To think I paid for it all!

There must have been a time (I can, after all remember it) when listening to Philip Glass was not a guilty sin.  Even in the generally dismissed world of Minimalist Music he was regarded as a pioneer and someone to be respected as a classical composer.

I say this because, having recently bought a new Naxos disc of his music including “Light” and the “Heroes Symphony” I think that he has descended to level of Muzak.

 

This reaction might come as a direct result of my experience of “Le Grand Macabre” on Tuesday.  Arriving in Barcelona at a reasonable hour, some two and a half hours before the start of the performance, I filled the time by dividing it by visiting El Corte Ingles and failing to find a reasonable restaurant to while away the spare minutes.

El Corte Ingles again offered me the tempting prospect of boxed sets of extremely desirable discs at almost give away prices.  Unfortunately, even at “give away” prices the number of discs in each box meant that the total was quite high.

In an uncharacteristic act of self-denial, I resorted to my sci-fi book technique of limiting purchases and decided on one composer and cheap prices and selected the work of Philip Glass and there, at a unit price which was much higher than the box set offer, but much less in total was a new disc.  I bought it quickly and left with indecent haste, lest I be tempted by anything more expensive.

I justified the expenditure on a few grounds: firstly because I have a growing collection of Glass music and I like it; secondly because Naxos disc are always worth buying and lastly, and most importantly, so there could be something to look forward to hearing in the car after staggering out of a performance of Le Grand Macabre if it was as dire as I expected it to be.

I have been listening to the discs of Ligeti’s opera religiously in the car to and from work.  I cannot believe there have been many doing their musical  “homework” as diligently as I – and failing signally to get to “know” the work they are listening to so much.

Le Grand Macabre is an unrewarding work to which to listen and I was relying on the much-vaunted visual effects to make up for the discordant and frankly messy sounds that accompanied me to work each morning and speeded my homecoming.

Apart from a brass fanfare-like interlude; a broken fragment of a string quartet; a chanted chorus which sounded like people were asking for a beer in Spanish; a cacophony of car horns and a very short interlude which sounded as though it could have developed into a real tune – there was not much in this farrago that took my fancy.

The pre-opera meal was in a café/restaurant on the corner of the block next to the opera house and for my €15 I got two tapas, some bread with tomato and a glass of fizzy water.  My last visit there I think!

The most impressive aspect of the performance musically was the orchestra who were superb, though I think that their sheer professionalism sometimes have a more polished sound to elements in the music which were deliberately (or at least at one time in the past) intended to be raucous.  But the overall effect was one of intense competence and they had the biggest cheer of all at the end of the performance.

The second star was the set, the giant crouching woman on a revolve.  During the course of the performance various parts of this giant figure opened and people or scenes were revealed.  Characters emerged from nipples, mouth and other parts while thighs opened to reveal sets within sets.  Lights and films played across the surface of this gigantic figure and the eyes lit up in a comically disturbing way.

The opera was sung in English, which was an unexpected bonus, though not all the singers were equally at home in the language.  I assume that Ligeti is not something that is every opera singer’s cup of tea and it must be a matter of horses for courses for his operas and I suppose that a lingua franca like English makes the assembling of a cast that much easier.  I imagine that Ligetti singers are rather like ondes Martenot players: a small group who know each other and meet up around the world when a performance calls for their skills.  I suppose that the ondes Martenot is demanded in something other than the Turangalîla-Symphonie – but I don’t know of it.  And I’m too lazy to look it up!

Yet again at the start of the second half of the opera, the seats were noticeably more empty than they were before the performance started – though I suspect that some of the patrons took advantage of empty seats to improve their view of proceedings!

My favourite singer was the lady who took the role of Venus and the Head of the Secret Police as she combined a strong, melodic and resourceful voice with a vibrant stage presence.  Otherwise, this is an opera that I will not be making huge efforts to see again – though having bought the discs I might well give it the benefit of another change with the images from the stage performance still clear in my mind.

The next opera is Linda of Chamounix by Donezetti – and I do have the month of December to get to know it, as the performance which is the next part of my season ticket is not until January.  I am not a great fan of Donezetti – but at least it will have tunes, ornamented tune possibly, but tunes certainly! 

The decision I have to make is which version I order and listen to.  I would like a version in English, but that probably will not be forthcoming, and I am not sure what I will gain from one of Donezetti’s opera from hearing the words in a language I can speak.  I fear that it might be the sort of opera where the melodramatic action might be best hidden behind the comforting cloak of Italian!

I don’t even know the famous bits in this opera, so I might start with the highlights and work from there!  If there are highlights.

Yesterday I was given on loan “Solar” by Martin Amis and it turned out to be a jolly, if predictable read.  My favourite extract occurred near the start of the novel when the anti-hero of the story was described as a person for whom, “The M4 demonstrated a passion for existence which he could not longer match.  He was for the B-road, a cart track, a footpath.”  A delightful description that the rest of the novel demonstrates both is and also is not true of the character!  This novel should come with a warning that it is not as determinedly depressing as his work usually is!  I even laughed out loud at one point!

I have also been given in a more permanent sense, a selection of three improving and authentically literary books to keep.  I have read all of them, but one of them, “Rebecca” is in a Folio Society edition with excellent paper, crisp print and obviously in hardback which is well worth keeping and I am more than prepared to throw away/give away my paperback version. 

“Rebecca” is by far my favourite of Du Maurier’s novels and the one which repays analysis most profitably.  The imagery is dense and deeply satisfying.  It will be a pleasure to re-read this novel in such a voluptuous edition.  Though I don’t like the illustrations!  Small point!