Sunday, August 31, 2003

Watty's in the queue

The queue for tonight's Prom, that is. It's absurdly long, which I really ought to have anticipated, and I'm by no means certain of getting in, but here I sit anyway. I feel I should catch up on what's been happening, but this is really not the right keyboard for all the typing required. So here I sit, while the people next to me play cards, and the man on my left (which is to say, ahead of me) gives up and tries the Gallery queue, and I just know it wi l be good one. If I get in, that is...

Friday, August 29, 2003

Watty's been away:

And busy - ridiculously busy. That's my excuse, anyway. More soon. Probably.

Monday, August 11, 2003

Watty didn't forget this:

Prom 26

The traditional, once-a-summer 'too hot to Prom' Prom.

Actually, in spite of an ill-advised rush to get there, caused by speed restrictions on the railways (in turn, due to the heat melting the rails), this was not the hottest I have ever been at a Prom. In fact, the whole thing was surprisingly bearable. Don't get me wrong, it was hot enough for the sweat to have been running down my spine. But I've been there and felt sweat running down my legs...

Anyway. Whilst in the queue, just at the bit on the steps where the new air conditioning dumps all its excess heat, I was accosted by a woman from BBC Scotland who wondered if I would like to be part of her documentary on tonight's conductor. Sadly, I had only a vague idea who he was, so I passed, but it seemed that a number of people were here specifically to see him, which was intriguing. Once safely inside, I scoured the programme to find out what all the fuss was about. It turns out that Ilian Volkov is in his first season at the BBC Scottish SO, and is only 7 years old.

OK, he's 27, but I still feel old. I can handle the performers being that young, even the composer, but this is really taking it too far. Conductors should be distinguished and grey. Or just grey, in the case of Sir Simon. He's going to have to be good, I thought.

Fortunately, he was good. He lived up to the hype comfortably, and is clearly going to be a star. We started with a new piece by Judith Weir (who is a friend of the man I queued next to. That's why I like the Proms) called The Welcome Arrival of Rain, which was pleasant and lively, and has almost entirely disappeared from my memory already, I'm afraid. There then followed the Schumann cello concerto, courtesy of Heinrich Schiff. I expected to kind of like it, but without any huge expectations, but Herr Schiff had other ideas. He attacked it with gusto, and not a little perspiration, and really brought it shining to life. In the conditions, it was a remarkable performance, and one I shall remember fondly for some time. Which is something I never expected to say about a Schumann concerto, to be frank. There then followed a short French farce involving the presentation of flowers to the soloist, who had just left the stage. After a few red faces, the flowers were united with their intended recipient, who promptly gave them to the lady cellist he was passing. She, deep in conversation, was somewhat startled, to say the least.

The second half began as the first had ended, with rumblings in the audience thanks to the fountain being left on, and an extraordinary hiccup, just as silence fell, but quickly setled down to an impressive and highly satisfactory rendition of Shostakovich 10. Volkov handled the orchestra impeccably, producing the requisite fire and brimstone in the second movement, followed by the quiet longing of the third. By the end, I was entirely caught up in his version of Shostakovich's world, the repeated DSCH motif seeming to come at us from everywhere at once, and if the ending seemed a little abrupt, then I'm afraid that's the way it was written, and doesn't reflect on the conductor at all. Of whom we will hear a great deal more, I'm certain. I have more ruminations on the whole Prom experience, but they'll have to wait, I'm afraid. I have a holiday to attend to.

Watty's been a bit hot:

Hm, August. I can honestly say that I don't remember ever being this hot in this country. Yesterday lunchtime even I was beaten inside by the ferocity of the sun; in the direct sunlight, the temperature must have broken 40o. It's been a remarkable summer all told - I was able to hike around in shorts before Easter, and although we are promised cooler weather, all that is going to happen is that tempertures will return to normal for this time of year. Which, if you were brought up in the north of Scotland, is still pretty hot. In fact, the temperature in the middle of the night at the moment still feels hot to me.

Still, we're heading for the north of Scotland tomorrow for a week. That should sort it out.