Another milestone!
I'm not sure that, when I started this blog, I thought that I would be penning the 200th number while sitting on my sofa securely in Cardiff. I think that I had imagined that the writing of the blog would, by now, have become almost incoherent owing to (due to?) the excessive amounts of rioja and cava that would have been slipping down my gullet having been purchased as almost no cost in the local Catalan supermarket.
Instead, because God is nothing if not ironic, I sit typing to the accompanying tintinabulation of raindrops glancing musically off the roof of the conservatory.
As all the best moral stories say, "This too will pass." My wry smile is safe in the ambiguity of that sentiment!
The trouble with yesterday’s generation is that it lacks application. They pretend that they are au fait with the burgeoning technology which surrounds them but, when push comes to shove, they lack (as it were) the application.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I place myself in that generation. Going to London for just over a day I was accompanied by my PDA, my camera, my ipod, my DAB radio and a spare pair of glasses. I had my multipurpose solar power pack to feed any of the devices that were flagging. I was prepared: technology my servant!
It should not have been too difficult to pen (or pound) my blog. I was going to stay in a house hold were each house member had her own computer linked to the internet. It would have been a simple matter to log on and get writing. But I didn’t. Neither when I returned in the evening on Saturday nor when I rose upon the sunny Sunday morn. The lure of champagne and barbecued food with Pouille Fuisse was more than the temptation of logorrhoea in the ether. Weak, weak man!
Now the penance (or is it the reward) of making up for lost time.
The ostensible reason for visiting London was to take advantage of a rare opportunity to see a good production of Satyagraha by
Philip Glass. The reviewer in The Indie dismissed the music and argued that the Opera had had a better production than it deserved. I am used to people being dismissive about the operatic oeuvre of Glass, dismissing it as repetitive rubbish. And even those who should know better have spurned my enthusiasm and forced me to go alone to productions!
This time I had the company of Mary who was as appreciative as I could have wished: all things come to those who wait!
The overpriced programme (£4-50) indicated some of the production ideas which were going to be incorporated into the finished work and gave an outline of the ‘narrative’ of the opera. To put it mildly, the narrative of Satyagraha is not conventional and I think it would be difficult for anyone, without a prior knowledge of what was supposed to be happening on stage, to understand the ‘action’ of the piece. As I have come to know the music from CD and have not bothered to read very much of the unilluminating booklet which accompanied the discs, it was not much of a disadvantage to discover that the dramatic accompaniment to the singing was more of a suggestive gloss on some parts of the libretto rather than a literal interpretation of the words.
ENO has collaborated with Improbable to produce this version of the opera. Improbable added a dramatic content which used stilt walkers, giant puppets, flying, fire, and a mass of newspaper to produce some set pieces which were genuinely moving and emotionally uplifting.
I was particularly impressed with the ‘fantastic’ appearance of Krishna with paper clouds of glory and wands used as manifestations of his refulgence. Paper was constantly employed in the visual and audio dynamic of the piece. The production of the Indian newspaper was simple and effective with sheets being handed from one person to another and pushed across the stage as if in a printing press. The transmogrification of the individual pages of newsprint into a continuous unwinding roll of paper eventually enabled the creation and breaking of barriers and a particularly effective maelstrom effect of thrashing lengths of paper which engulfed and disengorged the central character.
The singing (with the exception of Jean Rigby playing Mrs Alexander who was woefully underpowered) was uniformly excellent with Alan Oke being outstanding as Gandhi.
The music, inventive and engaging, constantly delighted with the intricacy of melodic style and for the first two acts the hypnotic power of the score gripped the listener’s attention. The last act is not as strong as the first two and, although powerful in its own way, it lacks the immediacy of the rest of the opera. Or perhaps it was the eventual effect of the wine in the intervals!
I am delighted that I made the effort to go to London to see this opera, well worth the effort. I have not changed in my opinion that Akhnaten is the stronger piece, but I am enthused enough to search out the final part of the trilogy that I do not have, Einstein on the Beach. More expense!
Clarrie and Mary’s house continues to impress, though the amount of money which is needed to bring this delightful residence to its full glory is daunting. The garden is glowing with colour and potential; the resident bluebells provide a colour base which will be augmented in the forthcoming months with the hidden riches that Clarrie has painstakingly planted as they burst through the chicken-shit enhanced earth which graces the garden (bindweed allowing!)
The lawn that Clarrie has laid is eventful in its topography, but, as they say in the older Oxford colleges, it only takes a little watering and rolling to make the perfect billiard table sward – as long as you are prepared to do it for a couple of hundred years! I am in no real position to speak as I am a devout follower of the Way of the Small Stone approach to flat areas of garden. And it makes weeding a doddle!
The barbecue was an (eventual) triumph with the fish kebabs being particularly fine. I must also admit that I am relieved that there is no branch of Waitrose enticingly near otherwise I fear that I would be living entirely on the micro dressed crab shells and the mini blinis with smoked salmon!
Now, don’t get me wrong; I place myself in that generation. Going to London for just over a day I was accompanied by my PDA, my camera, my ipod, my DAB radio and a spare pair of glasses. I had my multipurpose solar power pack to feed any of the devices that were flagging. I was prepared: technology my servant!
It should not have been too difficult to pen (or pound) my blog. I was going to stay in a house hold were each house member had her own computer linked to the internet. It would have been a simple matter to log on and get writing. But I didn’t. Neither when I returned in the evening on Saturday nor when I rose upon the sunny Sunday morn. The lure of champagne and barbecued food with Pouille Fuisse was more than the temptation of logorrhoea in the ether. Weak, weak man!
Now the penance (or is it the reward) of making up for lost time.
The ostensible reason for visiting London was to take advantage of a rare opportunity to see a good production of Satyagraha by
Philip Glass. The reviewer in The Indie dismissed the music and argued that the Opera had had a better production than it deserved. I am used to people being dismissive about the operatic oeuvre of Glass, dismissing it as repetitive rubbish. And even those who should know better have spurned my enthusiasm and forced me to go alone to productions!This time I had the company of Mary who was as appreciative as I could have wished: all things come to those who wait!
The overpriced programme (£4-50) indicated some of the production ideas which were going to be incorporated into the finished work and gave an outline of the ‘narrative’ of the opera. To put it mildly, the narrative of Satyagraha is not conventional and I think it would be difficult for anyone, without a prior knowledge of what was supposed to be happening on stage, to understand the ‘action’ of the piece. As I have come to know the music from CD and have not bothered to read very much of the unilluminating booklet which accompanied the discs, it was not much of a disadvantage to discover that the dramatic accompaniment to the singing was more of a suggestive gloss on some parts of the libretto rather than a literal interpretation of the words.
ENO has collaborated with Improbable to produce this version of the opera. Improbable added a dramatic content which used stilt walkers, giant puppets, flying, fire, and a mass of newspaper to produce some set pieces which were genuinely moving and emotionally uplifting.I was particularly impressed with the ‘fantastic’ appearance of Krishna with paper clouds of glory and wands used as manifestations of his refulgence. Paper was constantly employed in the visual and audio dynamic of the piece. The production of the Indian newspaper was simple and effective with sheets being handed from one person to another and pushed across the stage as if in a printing press. The transmogrification of the individual pages of newsprint into a continuous unwinding roll of paper eventually enabled the creation and breaking of barriers and a particularly effective maelstrom effect of thrashing lengths of paper which engulfed and disengorged the central character.
The singing (with the exception of Jean Rigby playing Mrs Alexander who was woefully underpowered) was uniformly excellent with Alan Oke being outstanding as Gandhi.
The music, inventive and engaging, constantly delighted with the intricacy of melodic style and for the first two acts the hypnotic power of the score gripped the listener’s attention. The last act is not as strong as the first two and, although powerful in its own way, it lacks the immediacy of the rest of the opera. Or perhaps it was the eventual effect of the wine in the intervals!
I am delighted that I made the effort to go to London to see this opera, well worth the effort. I have not changed in my opinion that Akhnaten is the stronger piece, but I am enthused enough to search out the final part of the trilogy that I do not have, Einstein on the Beach. More expense!
Clarrie and Mary’s house continues to impress, though the amount of money which is needed to bring this delightful residence to its full glory is daunting. The garden is glowing with colour and potential; the resident bluebells provide a colour base which will be augmented in the forthcoming months with the hidden riches that Clarrie has painstakingly planted as they burst through the chicken-shit enhanced earth which graces the garden (bindweed allowing!)
The lawn that Clarrie has laid is eventful in its topography, but, as they say in the older Oxford colleges, it only takes a little watering and rolling to make the perfect billiard table sward – as long as you are prepared to do it for a couple of hundred years! I am in no real position to speak as I am a devout follower of the Way of the Small Stone approach to flat areas of garden. And it makes weeding a doddle!The barbecue was an (eventual) triumph with the fish kebabs being particularly fine. I must also admit that I am relieved that there is no branch of Waitrose enticingly near otherwise I fear that I would be living entirely on the micro dressed crab shells and the mini blinis with smoked salmon!
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