WIN A JOSEPH CALLEJA CD!

JDCMB has a new motto: "Chacun à son gout," which translates roughly as "to each his/her own" (though I have a slight preference for "chacun à son goo".)

To celebrate, we're having a competition. Universal Classics is kindly offering as a prize the new CD The Maltese Tenor by rising superstar Joseph Calleja. For a chance to win, answer these two questions by email to jessica.duchen@yahoo.com (NB - please email, don't post the answer in the comments box!):

1. In which opera does the phrase "Chacun à son gout" feature?
2. Which character sings it?

The names of those who answer correctly will be popped into the one hat in the JDCMB household that remains uneaten, and the winner will be drawn by a mystery musical celebrity on Tuesday evening, 26 July. The draw will take place at the London Philharmonic Orchestra Prom. We'll announce the winner on Wednesday morning, 27 July, & the winner will also be notified by email. Answers must be received by 1pm UK time on Tuesday 26 July.

About time too...

Small-scale live music in Britain has been hobbled in the Helf'n'Safeteh Years by regulatory tourniquets that have seemed determined to prevent any blood flowing into what should be a vibrant scene and a valuable testing ground. Good news arrives from the Incorporated Society of Musicians this morning: parliament is progressing well towards passing laws that seek to stop the hamstringing. (Assuming, that is, that there'll be any parliament left after Rupertgate.)

Here's the ISM's statement - but first, a nice little example of what's possible with just two instruments, courtesy of Jascha Heifetz and William Primrose. I have this piece on the brain after the delectable Capucon brothers gave it some serious welly in their Proms encore yesterday. Yes, I know, I know - that's not at all what the bill means by 'small-scale', but I'm happily clutching at musical straws in the hope of bringing you something beautiful to brighten your day.

ISM welcomes continued progress of Live Music Bill
Government confirms entertainment de-regulation plans

Proposals to de-regulate small scale live music events could become law in 2012 after the Live Music Bill made it through its committee stage in the House of Lords.

Speaking in support of his own Bill, Lord Clement-Jones highlighted the ‘great encouragement’ it would give to young musicians ‘performing in all kinds of venues, who will be able to take advantage of these provisions.’

The Bill has just two readings left (usually carried out together) before it reaches the House of Commons.

Deborah Annetts, Chief Executive of the Incorporated Society of Musicians (ISM) said:

‘With Lord Clement-Jones winning further support for his Bill the continued progress is fantastic news, and the Government’s continued support – given the concession made – is also welcome.

‘This Bill will provide real help to musicians and make it far easier to put on live performances. We now hope to see the Bill make rapid progress through parliament and if successful it will reverse much of the devastating impact of the 2003 Licensing Act.’

Baroness Garden of Frognal re-iterated the Government’s support of the Bill in the Lords in light of a concession to change the time limit from midnight to 11pm and announced that the Government was ‘planning to consult shortly on wider reforms to live entertainment’.

Deborah Annetts added:

‘We welcome this news, and urge the Government to bring forward its planned consultation on the de-regulation of entertainment as swiftly as possible.’

Lord Stevenson of Balmacara backed the Bill on behalf of the Labour Party.

Piano Files for pianophiles

A pianistically megabrained pal has pointed me in the direction of a website that should go straight into the bookmark menu of anyone who aspires to be similarly pianistically megabrained. The Piano Files is run by Mark Ainley, an authority on historical recordings, especially, but by no means only, those of the Golden Age piano greats. The site's mission statement is simple: "The Piano Files is dedicated to the best recorded piano performances ever made."

Anyone dazzled by Benjamin Grosvenor will enjoy reading Mark's substantial and extremely intelligent interview with him. A daily 'featured recording' is a prime attraction - at present it's a svelte, pastel-toned performance of Chopin's A flat major Etude Op.25 No.1 by Jakob Gimpel. Earlier posts include an extraordinary rare recording of Cortot playing the Berceuse from Faure's Dolly Suite in 1925, excerpts of Horowitz, Rachmaninov and Youri Egourov and much more. Mark offers additional gems on The Piano Files' Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Piano-Files-with-Mark-Ainley/100464539673.

Permanent link now available under Music Places in my sidebar.

Up close with Osipova and Vasiliev

My ultimate night off is a trip to the ballet. Yesterday I treated myself to a spot close to the front at the Coliseum to see Natalia Osipova and Ivan Vasiliev, the young supernovas of the Bolshoi Ballet, in Sir Frederick Ashton's Romeo and Juliet. I sat near enough to hear Osipova breathe and to watch the rippling of Vasiliev's impressive leg muscles.

I've always been curious about this ballet. Ashton is a big favourite and this is one of his that I've never seen before, since it's not often done in London. It was created for the Royal Danish Ballet and apparently was bequeathed  in Ashton's will to the dancer and director Peter Schaufuss, whose company was responsible for its nine-performance visit.

Here in the Big Smoke we're steeped in the Kenneth MacMillan version, and it's hard to forget about it while watching this very different, exceedingly condensed account. But while MacMillan's is a grand-scale company piece, full of dazzling solo spots and set pieces for the corps de ballet, Ashton extracts the essence of Shakespeare's poetry and focuses on nothing else - as if Romeo and Juliet has become a Shakespeare sonnet. The corps - or the few couples representing it - have little to do; the ballroom scene looks more like a preamble to a family dinner party; and the lovers are dead at 9.30pm, by which time (if I remember rightly) Covent Garden has usually just killed off Tybalt. Having so said, I've no idea whether or not this was precisely Ashton's original or if it has been further truncated for this run (other reviewers have suggested so).

It didn't strike me as the vintage Ashton of gems like La fille mal gardee and A Month in the Country. Yet it has many moments of poetic beauty in the several pas de deux that feature ecstatic, open-limbed lifts and lavish backbends; Juliet flourishes in intricate and skittering choreography, and there's fantastic character development for her that leaves the rest of the cast in the shade. Direct references to Shakespeare are enjoyable: the lovers, meeting for the first time, make much of their touching palms; Mercutio 'bites his thumb' at Tybalt; and of the relationships on stage, perhaps the most touching of all was that between Juliet and her nurse (who's feistier than MacMillan's equivalent and gives the importunate page boy a good thrashing). There's much gazing over shoulders while, unusually, the dancers are required to turn their backs on the audience. Generally, though - musical as it remains - it seemed to lack the degree of focused imagery and points of crystallisation in which so many of Ashton's other ballets excel.

Osipova and Vasiliev aren't natural Ashtonians, and the surrounding Danes proved interesting company in every sense: while it seemed that the Bolshoi pair were making a great effort to rein in their natural athleticism and immense technical prowess to suit Ashton's poetic restraint, the bouncy and lyrical Danes let rip. Alban Lendorf of the Royal Danish Ballet brought the house down as Mercutio: as in Shakespeare, it's more of a character role than the moony Romeo, and Lendorf's acting ability had the chance to exceed that of his star colleague. Dancing next to Vasiliev in purely technical terms must be a huge challenge, too, and Lendorf met it at literally every turn. Showpieces for Romeo, Mercutio and Benvolio found Vasiliev giving us those glorious leaps and his magically controlled spins that flower into slow motion at the end, but Lendorf's multiple whirls (wonderfully on-the-spot) would put many Odiles to shame; and Robin Bernardet as Benvolio offered seriously dazzling footwork.

Their Tybalt, Johan Christensen, was a renegade Goth type, a problem child with a major anger management problem; slightly hard to believe in Lady Capulet's passion for him, but his sword fights are magnetic and that roll down the steps when Romeo kills him must be jolly painful.  Super support, too, from Schaufuss himself as Friar Laurence; and his daughter, Tara, had a lively and tender solo spot as Mercutio's girlfriend.

But it was Osipova's show. She's an astounding dance actress, growing before our eyes from teasing child to awakening woman, from furious teenager to desperate and decisive suicide, making every high-set developee and every last pas de bourree into an expression of character. At times I nearly feared for Vasiliev, since his Juliet outacted him and his Mercutio nearly stole his limelight.

On balance, though (pun unintended), I don't think he needs to worry. What a gorgeous pair they are, these two real-life lovers: magnetic, flexible, passionate, all-giving artists in the grand sense of which the Bolshoi tradition has never lost sight, and imbued with a charisma that makes it physically impossible to glance away while they're on stage. Never mind the production's shortcomings in terms of lighting/sets/costumes: this was a night to remember.

More previews from the Peter Schaufuss Ballet's run-up to the run here:

Bravissimo to Benjamin at the Prummm....

I don't think I'll ever forget hearing Benjamin Grosvenor's Proms debut last night. Especially his encore - of all things, a transcription by Cziffra of the Brahms Hungarian Dance No.5.

What is it with that lad? How does he do it? How does he know? Where does it all come from? I'm not usually a great subscriber to the notion of reincarnation, but if the soul of either Benno Moiseiwitsch or Ignaz Friedman decided to do a re-run in Britain about 19 years ago, it's very obvious where he landed. Just listen to this.



Alas, the rest of the concert didn't live up to its soloist, and I've said as much in today's Independent. The best - Benjamin - proved the enemy of the workaday. Honest to goodness, with the other major UK orchestras in their best-ever form from the Barbican and Festival Hall to Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham and Newcastle, with hungry, ambitious conductors turning up the electric heat, workaday is just not good enough. It never occurred to me before that Janacek's Glagolitic Mass could be as boring as that. It shouldn't be. Janacek is portraying a marvellous dream of marrying Kamila Stosslova. We got Czech dumplings. I'm pleased to see that the Last Night of the Proms is being conducted by Ed Gardner. Wish he'd conducted opening night too.

Restive for the festive?

OK, so I didn't make it to Tosca and I'm not getting over to Verbier this time, but so what? I mean, with the Proms about to begin and a dazzling line-up of overseas festival webcasts available to view from the comfort of my own computer, there's plenty to occupy me right here in sunny London. No, I'm not turning green in the face...I'm not, I'm not, I'm not...

First of all, here is my round-up from today's Independent of the best webcasts from the elite (in the best sense) festivals of Europe.

Next, the Proms kick off tonight: a Judith Weir premiere, then Brahms and Liszt, the latter's Second Piano Concerto featuring Benjamin Grosvenor in his Proms debut; finally nothing less than Janacek's Glagolitic Mass. More good news is that it's not raining yet also it is not too hot. I don't fancy a re-run of my Meistersinger debacle last summer. If you can't go along, the First Night is on the TV: details here.

Here's Benjamin playing Liszt's arrangement of Chopin's song 'The Maiden's Wish', filmed out in Kensington Gardens on a very wet, very cold morning in April. We're promised that tonight both piano and pianist will be let into the hall.

They're queuing overnight at Covent Garden

Yeah, classical music is really dying...not. Tonight at the Royal Opera House there's the first of two all-star performances of Tosca. Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann and Bryn Terfel are Tosca, Cavaradossi and Scarpia and we've learned that people have been queuing overnight outside the theatre for day seats that go on sale this morning. Don't despair if you can't get in: the thing is being filmed, along with the second performance by said megastars on Sunday, and it will be broadcast and (I think) cinecast later this year.

Last night the ROH beamed Massenet's Cendrillon into Trafalgar Square where a huge crowd listened to those mellifluous mezzos Joyce DiDonato and Alice Coote in rapt respect. What's that? Massenet's Cendrillon? No, we'd never heard it before either, but the ROH, the performers and the doughty director Laurent Pelly have apparently done it proud: thus Massenet has claimed his moment in the moonlight alongside the much more predictable Puccini. Last week's Trafalgarcast of Madama Butterfly attracted a crowd of 8000 - with another 2000 spectators turned away because there wasn't enough room for everyone in the UK capital's largest square.

Such is the popularity of opera that's it's outgrown its theatres. At Bayreuth, with about 1800 seats, it's almost impossible to get tickets, even if you can afford it. Glyndebourne, with around 1200, is probably not truly untouched by the financial crisis, but it can certainly look that way. Those are, admittedly, the slenderer-sized jobs, but even so Covent Garden, as we just noted, is packed out.

ENO has the biggest theatre in London and fewer appearances by the DiDonatos and Kaufmanns that draw the hordes; ergo, it's easier to get in. As for its ballet runs, I've managed to get hold of a good seat to see Osipova and Vasiliev. But when the reviews came out yesterday it seemed apposite to book in as PDQ as possible. The Coliseum, too, can sell out - witness the visit of Terry Gilliam to Berlioz.


So is it just the star names that sell? They don't hurt, that's for sure. Yet Madama Butterfly didn't involve megastars at all; instead it featured a comparatively little-known Latvian soprano, Kristine Opolais, who stepped into the role at very short notice after the scheduled singer fell ill. The budding diva is no longer so little-known. With Cendrillon, it was the other way round: a virtually unknown opera that, with Joyce and Alice aboard, and a production by the director who worked wonders with La fille du regiment a few years ago, was able to pull and get its coat.

As you'll know if you read my piece in the Independent a few weeks ago, I've some reservations about live opera on the big screen. For the audience it's not truly live; and because the stage demands one approach and film another, you see all manner of things that you'd prefer not to, while the sound can be flattened, or simply made too loud. I'm reliably informed, incidentally, that opera houses risk losing rather than making money on cinecasts - but in this day and age, it's expected of them for "access" etc. Still, what's the alternative?

Bigger opera houses? The chances of a Met-sized theatre being built in the UK are zilch: no money and no space. And huge theatres have their drawbacks; after seeing Eugene Onegin some years ago from the back row of the Met's balcony and finding I needed a NASA-sized telescope, I've never wished to try the place again; I'd rather go to the cinema. For similar reasons I avoided the Royal Ballet's Romeo and Juliet at the O2...OK, maybe I need a visit to the optician. I  hope I'm less short-sighted in observing that these performances and screenings are going down very, very well. Now that they've 'bedded down' in public consciousness, there's a real and increasing demand. If you build it, they will turn up with their sandwiches and a bottle and have an excellent evening.

I'm not going to risk pre-judging the forthcoming appearance of Placido Domingo and Angela Gheorghiu at the O2 on 29 July. I'm not a fan of either the place or the concept, but if it works, it works. Everyone deserves a chance to hear them and this is probably the only way to do it.

I've always maintained that we, the public, are not as stupid as some people like to think. When there's an artist of genuine star quality around, and when music truly speaks to us - no matter its genre - we go and enjoy. You can manufacture artists all you like, with sexy photos, fake-fur marketing and so forth, but ultimately that will be futile if the talent is not there to support it. The star has to be able to cut the mustard on stage, because there you can fake nothing.

Nothing is more exposing than to step forward and perform. Yes, I've witnessed some total charlatans receive standing ovations from time to time - but these are not the musicians whose performances are being beamed around the world to six or seven-figure audiences, or for whom Londoners are ready to camp out overnight on a cold Covent Garden pavement. You can't fake a Kaufmann. And people whose artistry is of that level are in short supply. They always were and they always will be. There is such a thing as magic.

The picture at the top, of Angela (credit: Jason Bell), is from the ROH's 2012 Olympics campaign and says it all.

"Always in love": Great Dane bounds into the BBC

The BBC National Orchestra of Wales has just announced that its new principal conductor from September 2012 will be the young Danish maestro Thomas Søndergård. He has an impressive track record, having been principal conductor of the Norwegian Radio Orchestra - and by all accounts the heat is on. Forget Nordic cool with this guy around. Critics have already spoken of his "piercing intelligence and intense passion" and called him "a sensation". I'm looking forward to seeing him in action - and another Thomas not many miles from here, being a fluent Danish speaker, will no doubt bound in at the first possible opportunity for a man-to-man conversation that the rest of us can't understand. In the picture: Søndergård with some of the BBCNOW principal players. Meanwhile, here's a little Q&A from the orchestra, in which their new top man says he is always in love...

Q: What are you most looking forward to about your new role with BBC National Orchestra of Wales?

TS: I am really look forward to getting to know the orchestra better and exploring new music as well as the great standard repertoire with them.

Q: Who are your favourite composers and why?

TS: It varies, of course, but I have always greatly admired Sibelius.  His symphonies give me such pleasure to work with - especially the final two; 6 and 7. Number 7 will always have a special place in my heart; to be able to describe the array of life's emotions - magic, sorrow, joy etc. - in just 20 minutes is quite extraordinary, and what's more he does it in such a personal way. I recently discovered that he finishes the symphony with a harmonic reference to his own "Valse triste". I am also interested in the contemporary repertoire and that of B. Tommy Andersson and Magnus Lindberg are among my absolute favourites.

Q: What is your favourite moment in your career so far?

TS: In my former years as a percussionist, I performed Mahler's Symphony No.9 twice with EUYO and Haitink in the Concertgebouw, where I stepped in for a player with a broken leg. I was there visiting my friends and Haitink saw me in the rehearsal studying the score, and asked me to step in. I only had a small part to play but this worked out better for me - as it meant I could watch Haitink all the more closely. There was an incredible contact between him and the orchestra. It was the last project for many of the players and the music-making from all was just so touching; we all knew that we would never experience anything like it again in our lives.

Q: Do you enjoy any other styles of music other than classical and if so, what?

TS: I grew up listening to Modern Jazz which I love, and I started listening to Salsa 20 years ago - it's great at parties!

Q: What are your hobbies and interests?

TS: I can quite easily travel long distances just to eat good food. I also love to swim in the sea all year round - and if I can combine the two of them... heaven!

Q: Who in the classical music world do you most admire?

TS: Paavo Berglund means a lot to me - he's conducted me many times. I've learnt so much from watching him working, particularly with string sound and phrasing.

Q: Which six words best describe you?

TS: Passionate, enthusiastic, happy, curious, communicative and…always in love!

And now it's farewell to Roland Petit

My friends at The Ballet Bag have just tweeted news from Le Figaro of the death of the great French choreographer Roland Petit, at the age of 87. Here is his full obituary (in French), also from Le Figaro. UPDATE: And here is Ismene Brown's, in English at The Arts Desk.

Chic yet daring, classic yet acrobatic, cool yet sometimes emotionally devastating, Petit's work achieved both notoriety and immortality. Though it's sad to report yet another death this week, it's a good reason to watch Rudolf Nureyev and Zizi Jeanmaire in Petit's iconic ballet Le jeune homme et la mort, choreographed to Bach's Passacaglia in C minor and based on a libretto by Jean Cocteau. Meanwhile, speaking of French playwrights, I'm half dreaming of the conversation my father-in-law's spirit could be having with those of Josef Suk and Roland Petit up in the waiting room...

Bravo, Benjamin

Benjamin Grosvenor's first CD for Decca is out on Monday. It consists of a Chopin selection, some unusual Liszt and Ravel's Gaspard de la nuit. And it's to die for.

Benjamin's 'Ondine' is the most tender, gorgeous and underwatery account imaginable; his Chopin Scherzi turn up all manner of unexpected, glittery-dark facets and deep-buried stores of gunpowder; the limpid Liszt and the Chopin nocturnes invite you to sink into their silky textures. The magic is partly a mixture of Benjamin's touch, his sensitivity and intelligence and his sheer intuition for how to point a detail, curl a phrase, finish the garnishing with flare; and partly it's the fact that he has a sonic imagination that is absolutely instinctual, way beyond his years, one that knocks the spots off many aspiring artists who are older than he is and have won prizes that he doesn't need. It's playing that can make you hold your breath, smile, laugh and cry, each within moments of the last. It's playing of which you might declare "Ah, they don't make 'em like this any more..." if the pianist in question weren't just 19 (and he was still 18 at the time of recording).

Are we talking about someone who could, if fate allows, in future reach even the level of a Zimerman or an Uchida? I don't know, but it's not impossible. Though of course he is nothing like either of them. He's already his own man, with a sound that speaks with a unique voice.

Here's Decca's preview. The black and white filming is apposite, as is Benjamin's backward glance at the end; these features echo the Golden Age influence in his approach, the inspiration of pianists from another era. Roll over, British tennis and its losers - let's start celebrating instead the fact that the next truly great artist of the piano might just be a lad from Southend-on-Sea.

If Chopin had had Skype...

Nohant, deep in the countryside of the Loire region of France, used to be home to George Sand and, at select moments, also her lover, Frederic Chopin. Guests would have included the leading artists, writers and musicians of their day - not least (of special interest to me) Ivan Turgenev and Pauline Viardot. But today Nohant is home to a music festival and welcomes a whole raft of 21st-century musical luminaries instead.

Last Monday the Nohant Festival was planning to honour the great American pianist Byron Janis, who made some of the most stunning recordings I've had the good fortune to hear of repertoire including Chopin and Rachmaninov. Tragically he had to stop performing after developing psoriatic arthritis in both hands in the 1970s, though he kept on as long as the condition would allow. Now he is 83.

He couldn't go to Nohant after all, stricken with inflammation in a sciatic nerve. Cue wonders of modern technology. They hooked Janis up via Skype instead for an interview with the festival president, Yves Henry. The occasion was a screening of a new film by the award-winning director Peter Rosen, The Byron Janis Story.

And that should be quite a story: for one thing, Janis studied with Horowitz for four years; for another, among the accolades that have come his way include being the first American artist to be sent to the USSR in 1960, opening the first cultural exchange between the two Cold War adversaries. Incidentally, his wife, Maria, is the daughter of the actor Gary Cooper.

Even more intriguing, though, is the news that Janis has recently published his autobiography. The title?  CHOPIN AND BEYOND: MY EXTRAORDINARY LIFE IN MUSIC AND THE PARANORMAL. Investigate book and CD further, right here. 

I can't help wondering what Chopin would be doing if he were alive today and had access to Skype, film-making, et al. I suspect he would shun the lot of them. While Liszt would take copious advantage of it all, would be tweeting happily ("@SandAuthor thx 4 glorious w/end chez vous, how goes w Little ChipChip, hugz, Fxx") and would probably have a TV series to himself, Chopin would be one of those artists who'd pitch up out of the blue from time to time to give a recital unannounced in some out-of-the-way spot to which his aficionados would flock, alerted by word of mouth only.
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The festival winds up on Sunday with a recital by Helene Tysman.

Stars, Night, Music and Light...

That's the title of the new piece by Judith Weir that will open the Proms next Friday. Today's Arts & Books cover feature in the Independent is my take on this year's Proms, rounding up some highlights and asking Roger Wright about a few of the hows and whys.

It's also vital to point out that as there's a real risk the Proms will be heavily slashed, along with the rest of the BBC, a few years down the line, this year is the time to get down to South Kensington and show our love and support. Happy to say that at time of blogging we're on the website's front page. Enjoy.

Today the paper also carries a comment piece I wrote the other day about the Opera North and Beached controversy. Yesterday morning, of course, we got the news that it's all been sorted and the opera is going ahead, if a tad tweaked, but this arrived too late for the print deadline. It's jolly nice to know that the story has a happy ending. (Just so you know I know, and I know you know I know.) Opera North has asked me to point out additionally that the mentioned £100,000 does not relate solely to Beached, but to the company's entire two-year residency in Bridlington.

Josef Suk dies at 81

Very sad to hear of the death of Josef Suk, the great Czech violinist who was the grandson of Josef Suk the composer and the great-grandson of Antonin Dvorak. He returned to the recording studio after his supposed retirement to record music by certain family members - discs which are among the most treasured in my not-insubstantial collection. His sound was filled with personality and his feel for his native Czech music not only flowed in the blood but could almost convince you, listening, that you knew the steps to the folkdances when you didn't. He was the violinist of the Suk Trio in the 1950s and from 1992 to 2000 was manager and conductor of the Suk Chamber Orchestra. His recordings won numerous awards. More here from Ceske Noviny (Czech News).

It was one of my little dreams to go to Prague and bring him here to play Dvorak at the Royal Festival Hall, but that must now remain a dream.

UPDATE: Suk's obituary from The Telegraph.

Here he is playing extracts from the Four Pieces Op.17 by his grandfather, with pianist Jan Panenka, recorded for Supraphon in 1954

The truth in cement, plus ice

A couple of weeks ago the Indy sent me along to Garsington Opera's new home at Wormsley to sample the doughty festival's latest unearthed rarity: Vivaldi's La verita in cimento. The experience as a whole reminded me of a Wigmore Hall for summer opera: the size is similar, the musical standard astronomic and the audience consists of absolute cognoscenti: those we chatted to all turned out to be confirmed opera addicts, immensely knowledgeable and devoted. The new pavilion is glassy and airy; you can watch the sunset through the trees while the opera plays out.

Admittedly, the night we went was so cold and wet that it could have almost have been February; the pavilion is a little too open for comfort in such conditions. We all sat in our coats shivering through the Vivaldi and wondering how the Red Priest himself would have depicted such a season in music.

Having so said, I found myself in the extraordinary position of adoring every minute of the performance. This sphere of repertoire has never been my thang, especially not since 24 compulsory lectures on Italian baroque opera were rammed down our throats at Cambridge, leaving me with a Clockwork Orange response to most of it, other than my arch-beloved Monteverdi (whom I adored before even setting foot in the City of Perspiring Dreams). And so I wrote a five-star review while many of my fellow critics, who are normally much more enthusiastic about all this, were a bit more 'meh' about it. All credit to Laurence Cummings, whose conducting was as light and airy as the pavilion itself.

In case you missed it, here's my review.

Five stars

La verita in cimento

Garsington Opera, Wormsley, 20 June 2011

Review by Jessica Duchen

Not much is black and white in Vivaldi’s opera La verita in cimento - “Truth put to the test”. But the colour-coded designs (by Duncan Hayler) do help, so muddled is the situation in which the unfortunate Sultan Mamud finds himself. It’s all his own fault. Twenty-five years before curtain-up he switched round the babies of his wife and his mistress – who conveniently gave birth on the same day – so that the son of the woman he loved would be his heir. Now he’s decided to own up, throwing both his families into meltdown. It would be easy to show this story as an 18^th-century morality tale: the ‘official’ son, Zelim (colour-code white), unravels the mess through personal renunciation. But David Freeman stages it as family drama à la Dynasty and it mostly works a treat.

Garsington Opera, famous for championing little-known repertoire, has struck musical gold with Vivaldi’s 1720 smash hit, here enjoying its UK premiere. The compact cast in this sensibly condensed version – six very busy singers – is perfect for the company’s new home, a glassy, light-filled pavilion theatre which achieves an intimacy rarely possible at any other performance of such world-class calibre.

Vivaldi’s genius presented all the warmth that was missing out in the soggy gardens. There’s always a surprise up his sleeve: a love-triangle ensemble sung by soprano and two counter-tenors garnished with sensual trills; some stunning musical bling for Melindo, the unofficial son (colour-code black), duetting hair-raisingly with the trumpets; or the lamenting wife, Rustena, propped up not only by Pimms but also by an ironically twittering recorder obbligato.

This cast could scarcely be bettered. Paul Nilon, a tenor and the lowest voice on stage, portrays Mamud as a weak, despotic ruler caught between two strong and marvellous women, respectively Jean Rigby as the tippling Rustena and Diana Montague as the self-possessed, flame-haired mistress Damira. The too-pragmatic princess Rosane is an icy, crystalline Ida Falk Winland, betrothed to crown rather than prince and hedging her bets (colour-code one black boot and one white). Both lads are counter-tenors: James Laing a magically poetic Zelim and Yaniv d’Or a Melindo who grew better the more bitter and furious the character became. The Garsington Opera Orchestra, under the inspired conducting of Laurence Cummings, shone as much as the singers: perfect tempi, radiant textures and wall-to-wall virtuosity, the mingling of harpsichord, theorbo and harp cladding the sounds in Vivaldian sunbeams. Glorious stuff.

Site stats...

As you know, I'm a confirmed technotwit and my understanding of how various blog rankings are worked out amounts to 000. Still, I'm pleased to see that on the Invesp.com list of the top 25 classical music blogs, JDCMB has pulled in at no.8 on the "ultimate rank". Alex Ross's The Rest is Noise is no.1. JDCMB is missing, though, from Invesp's ranking according to 'monthly visitors', despite last month having clocked up more than 3000 above the total of that particular no.1. Could be as simple as my site being implanted with a counting device that doesn't match theirs.

If Tosca survived, what about Brunnhilde?

Alex Ross has been to Rome and checked out the Castel Sant'Angelo, from the ramparts of which Tosca leaps to her death at the end of Puccini's opera. His reasonable conclusion is that the diva could well have survived, as there's a ledge just a few feet beneath. 

Could we face unexpected sequels to a range of operas in which the lead character's death mightn't be all it's cracked up to be? Just imagine...

Don Giovanni: the Commendatore drags the Don away ostensibly to hell - but once they're at a safe distance from the house he unmasks and turns out to be Giovanni's brother Giorgio in disguise, come to rescue baby bro from all those harpies. The boys run off and set themselves up with false papers on a yacht in Marbella.

Götterdämmerung: Brunnhilde utters her Immolation Scene, rides into the flames...and out the other side. She and her trusty Grane escape the apocalypse on the Rhine and cross the sea to a green and pleasant land, where they live quietly in the countryside before winning both the Derby and the Grand National. Brunnhilde becomes a famous equestrian champion and marries an aristocrat; Grane, on his retirement, sires a new generation of British racehorses with apparently magical powers.

Got any more?

(PS - have been writing my official response to the Opera North/Lee Hall situation, so watch that space...)

Picker the best

Here's my interview with the composer Tobias Picker about Tourette's Syndrome, how his Jewish background affects his music, and why Rita the Rat is a Jewish hippy in his Fantastic Mr Fox... (From this week's JC.)

Glyndebourne: big job for Ticciati

Robin Ticciati, the 28-year-old British conductor, has been announced as Glyndebourne Festival Opera's next music director, starting from January 2014. I'd have eaten my sole surviving hat if they'd picked anyone else. Glynditz is one big, delectable cake to take, and comes accompanied by champers. All jolly well deserved, too.

It seems just the other day that Nicholas Snowman, in his short tenure as general manager of Glyndebourne, announced the appointment of an unknown twentysomething Russian as music director. "Vladimir Jurowski? Who?" said everyone. Clever move - just look at him now. But that was ten years ago.

The big question now is: what will Vladimir do next?

Of course you know all about Ticciati's new job already...I'm not going to start wittering on about "embargoes", Twitter or why we referred to Robin as XXXX for 18 1/2 hours. Instead, here are some vital statistics from the press release explaining how Robin, who's currently music director of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and used to be music director of Glyndebourne's touring opera, will go bob bob bobbing along to the Sussex opera house.

• When Robin Ticciati takes up his new position in 2014 it will mark the 80^th anniversary of the Festival and the 10^th anniversary of Robin’s professional operatic debut, made at Glyndebourne in 2004.

• Robin is only the seventh Music Director in Glyndebourne’s 77-year history, following on from Fritz Busch, Vittorio Gui, John Pritchard, Bernard Haitink, Andrew Davis and Vladimir Jurowski (2001 – 2013).

• Robin is one of a long list of illustrious conductors and singers who started their careers at Glyndebourne, attracted by its generous rehearsal conditions and the supportive environment in which artists can grow and develop.

• Robin’s first professional operatic engagement, as Assistant Conductor for performances of Die Zauberflöte for Glyndebourne on Tour (GOT) in 2004, immediately led to further invitations to conduct for both Glyndebourne on Tour and the Glyndebourne Festival (GFO).

• Since 2004, Robin’s collaboration with Glyndebourne has included four productions for GOT (Music Director of GOT from 2007 – 2009) and three productions for GFO, including performances ofHänsel und Gretel, Macbeth, Die Fledermaus and Don Giovanni in this year’s Festival.

• Robin will return to Glyndebourne in 2012 to conduct Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro in a new production for the Festival directed by Michael Grandage.

David Pickard, General Director of Glyndebourne said: “I am delighted that Robin has accepted our invitation to become Glyndebourne’s Music Director from 2014. I can think of nobody more appropriate to continue Glyndebourne’s long tradition of artistic excellence and innovation.

None of us will forget the excitement when, as a 21-year-old assistant conductor on Die Zauberflöte in 2004, Robin Ticciati stood in the pit at Glyndebourne for the first time and conducted the overture. Those who were present at this rehearsal were in no doubt of his exceptional talent. Over the past seven years, we have been privileged to enjoy many thrilling performances from Robin, both as Music Director of Glyndebourne on Tour, and as a regular conductor at the Glyndebourne Festival.”

Robin Ticciati said: “I am honoured to have been offered this wonderful opportunity and I look forward to Glyndebourne becoming my operatic home. From my very first experience of Glyndebourne, I was overwhelmed with the unrivalled opportunities that the environment offered. Creating opera with such talented artistic teams and world-class musicians in an organisation that places great emphasis on detailed musical preparation is a genuine privilege.”

Vladimir Jurowski, Glyndebourne Music Director said: “I am relishing my time at Glyndebourne as Music Director (2000 – 2013) and am very proud of the body of artistic work that we have produced together to date. The unparalleled rehearsal opportunities and detailed preparation dedicated to every aspect of the organisation has allowed me to realise many of my artistic dreams.  I am delighted that in 2014 the enormously talented conductor Robin Ticciati will take over this role. I have every confidence that he will cherish, as I have, the opportunity to create opera in the unique environment that Glyndebourne provides.”

RIP Herbert Eisner (23 June 1921 - 28 June 2011)

Tom's father passed away peacefully this morning, having made it to his 90th birthday a few days ago. He was a very remarkable man and I feel lucky to have been his daughter-in-law.

Herbert was a physicist whose field of expertise was explosions in confined spaces; he became head of the Safety in Mines Research Establishment in Derbyshire and was often to be seen on TV as a commentator on issues such as the King's Cross fire and trouble in the Channel Tunnel. He was born in Berlin and escaped the Nazis when he was sent to boarding school in Buxton at the age of 15 - little suspecting he'd spend most of his life in the same town - though not before attending the 1936 Olympic Games, where he and his family saw Jesse Owen win his race. Apparently the Nazis ceased persecution of the Jews for the Olympics' duration so that the world wouldn't see what was going on.

Herbert's aunt, Lotte Eisner, was a film historian who wrote a biography of Fritz Lang and in the 1920s was great friends with Leni Riefenstahl. One day around 1926 Leni called Lotte and invited her to tea, saying "There's someone very special I want you to meet - his name is Adolf Hitler." Lotte refused to go. Later she wrote in her autobiography that she regretted this decision. She wished she'd gone to tea, and taken along a revolver.

Despite his successful career as a scientist, Herbert was also an extremely fine writer. His mother was a close friend of Bertolt Brecht and as a child Herbert was dandled on the great author's knee. He wrote better in English than most native English speakers and was runner-up to Muriel Spark in a short story competition run by the Observer in the 1950s. The story was about Der Rosenkavalier. He later wrote several plays that were presented on Radio 4, a couple of children's books and a TV play in which Susan Hampshire starred - tragically the BBC did not keep the film...

Herbert's grandfather's used to play cards with Richard Strauss. So in Herbert's honour, here is the composer conducting his own Ein Heldenleben, with the Vienna Philharmonic in 1944. By the time this was recorded Herbert was 22: he'd been interned as an "enemy alien" in the Isle of Man, then joined the British army and been posted to India. Due to his German origins he changed his name to Evans while in the military, and his comrades used to call him Taffy. This despite the fact that he had a strong German accent right up to his birthday the other day, when we saw him for the last time.

In his own quiet way, he certainly had a hero's life.

Flashmob in the British Museum

What does a flashmob do when it gets inside the British Museum? Why, naturally they sing Thomas Tallis's 40-part motet Spem in alium. The British Renaissance masterpiece took BM visitors and staff by surprise yesterday around 5pm. Apparently the security guards did some frantic conferring, but enjoyed the music far too much to stop the importunate singers.

Conductor Katie Hawks, who masterminded the event, said: "It was amazing singing such an incredible piece in such a special place. Perhaps it might remind our silent museums that music is very much part of enlightenment... Lots of people were bowled over by the experience."

Here's what happened (sound quality's not brilliant, but you get the idea):

Khatia's Faustian Dream

"Listening to Khatia Buniatishvili is like watching a high-wire artist with no safety net. She divides audiences because she takes so many risks, sometimes choosing tempi which prove impossible or volumes that send the piano out of tune. But her more lyrical playing is peerless; increased discipline will make her into an extraordinary musician." (JD in the Indy, Jan 2011)

Buniatishvili, 23 and from Georgia, is currently on the Borlotti-Buitoni Trust's Young Artists programme plus BBC New Generation Artists and will be giving a solo lunchtime recital in this year's Proms.

Without further comment I'd like to offer you this short film she has made re the Liszt B minor Sonata. Discuss.

And in the news today...

* Glyndebourne is filming Die Meistersinger this afternoon and it will be webcast live and free on The Guardian's website. It's also to be shown in the Science Museum in South Kensington. Stephen Moss will be doing a live Meisterblog and tweets are invited, as on the first night, with the hashtag #diemeistertweeter. There's a treasure-trove of supporting articles and webcasts on the site. Details of the streaming, interview with Vlad etc, here.

* In similar vein, Norman Lebrecht makes the point in today's Telegraph that all of a sudden the issue of access, access, access is no longer relevant. We have access, thanks to webcasts, cinecasts and the Big Screens, and apparently this, our very own wet and soggy island, is where the future of opera is being carved. (Discuss...)

He also had a high old time at the ENO's new Nico Muhly opera Two Boys, which I had not initially planned to attend. Had it been sold as a "Susan Bickley is Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect" opera (as every man and his cat has been saying that it is since the premiere on Friday), I'd have booked in at once. But from the marketing it sounded like a niche thing that was fashioned for young gay blokes who live online; therefore it mightn't be interesting for married, female, 40-something technotwits... There shouldn't be a problem getting in, though. When I checked the website on Thursday to see if there were seats left for Monday, the place was less than half full. If all is well up north (we have difficult family issues at present), I may go. Alternatively I might catch up with DVDs of another wonderful woman detective: Brenda Blethyn as Vera in the ITV series based on the absolutely brilliant Geordie detective novels by Ann Cleeves, if said DVDs are yet available.

* This morning @MalteseTenor Joseph Calleja was on the Andrew Marr Show on BBC1, singing 'E lucevan le stelle'. Michael Gove, our education minister - currently trying to avert a strike by teachers this week - was listening from the sofa, where he'd been trying to say he wasn't really intending to exhort parents to strike-break. He applauded enthusiastically... Feel the power, Micks. Let the people hear the music. Let the people learn music, too, at school. Music for all, please: right here, right now.

Speaking of opera and the internet, Calleja shared my blog on his Facebook fan page the other day. Aw shuks. Can you imagine a world in which Richard Tauber had internet access?

Psst - want a legal high?

If so, sit back and turn up the volume. Listen to Joseph Calleja singing 'E lucevan le stelle' from Tosca (on Youtube, below). Then imagine being just four metres away from him as he does so. That, dear reader, is how I was privileged to spend my lunchtime. If they're going to crack down on 'legal highs', as some newspapers are reporting today, then what are they going to do about tenors?



Calleja has grown up: the Maltese falcon is flying. I heard his first CD some years ago - bel canto arias in what seemed a pleasing, light, precise voice. So I wasn't prepared for what hit us today when Decca put on a showcase half-hour performance by him in the Royal Opera House's crush room, to preview his new album 'The Maltese Tenor'. At about 32, he's not a slender, tender tenor type, but instead a big, bullish, walking soundbox imbued with roaring charisma. By the time he'd finished his programme, mostly Verdi and Puccini, I reckon the entire gathering was head over heels in love. Afterwards the chat was mostly about how unbelievably lucky we felt to be there to hear such an artist at all, let alone at such close quarters. And we all want to go and see him in Malta, his homeland, where he has just founded a new festival.

This is a major, major star in the making. If he's coming to a stage near you soon, you don't just want a ticket; you need one, fast. And you can follow him on Twitter at @MalteseTenor. Hope you love him as much as we did.

SOLIDARITY - and why Hans Sachs was right

The LPO and Vladimir Jurowski, filmed at Glyndebourne and introduced by Martin the Chairman, play 'Solider of Orange' in solidarity with our arts friends in the Netherlands, where culture is being threatened with excision by a government that's crucially propped up by Geert Wilders and his far-right "Freedom Party". Orchestras around the world are moving to show their solidarity. The anthem is an underground song from the Second World War. On the stage you can glimpse the Meistersinger set.

It's time to ditch the universal shudder, by the way, at the words of Hans Sachs about the vitality of German art. He is not prefiguring the Nazis when he declares that even if Germany were to be under foreign rule, the German people will still have their great art. He is saying that art is what keeps a nation's sense of identity alive. He is right. The opera is set in Germany and Sachs was a German poet - so of course he's talking about German art. But it is true for every nation and every culture and it is something we forget at our peril. An artistic output of which a country can be proud - great art that shows individuals giving the best of their own spirits to everyone else - takes years, decades, centuries to build. But it can be destroyed overnight. Shame on Wilders and those philistine thugs.

Meeting some Prince Charmings

I had a merry old time meeting Prince Charming last week. Actually, two Prince Charmings. First, the ace British mezzo Alice Coote, who plays the P.C. in Massenet's Cendrillon to the Cinderella of Joyce DiDonato at the Royal Opera House, opening next week. In today's Independent, she talks to me about duetting with another mezzo, how the great Brigitte Fassbaender helped her to get up and running, and why singing is a matter of ups and downs. Sometimes both at once.

My other P.C. is the American tenor James Valenti, who has sung with Gheorghiu and Netrebko and is soon to be plastered all over the world's cinemas in 3D as Pinkerton in the ROH's Madama Butterfly - not the most princely or charming of roles, admittedly. Here's the short-and-sweet interview in the Observations section of the Indy's Arts & Books today. The show opens tomorrow. (Apologies to the wonderful couple at Garsington the other day who gently corrected us over our picnic. "It's not a show. It's an opera...")

But a nice little addendum is that when I dropped in after the rehearsal, James was still feeling astonished to find himself in the same dressing room at the ROH used by such luminaries as Ben Heppner, Jonas Kaufmann and Simon Keenlyside. He says he took a photo of the list on the door and put it on Facebook: "Part of me’s still this kid from New Jersey! What am I doing here?" 

It turns out, too, that the soprano stepping in at short notice for the ailing Patricia Racette, who would have been Butterfly, is Kristine Opolais - aka Mrs Andris Nelsons as of 29 April. 

 

Roll over, Amadeus?

Is this how Mozart really died? A musical thriller landed on my desk the other week. In Mozart's Last Aria, by Matt Rees, the sleuth is Nannerl Mozart; the death she's investigating is that of her beloved brother. It's a cracking read. Matt, based in Jerusalem, is a well-established crime fiction author and a former foreign correspondent who covered, amongst other things, the second Intifada on location. Why, then, did he want to write a detective story on ground that had already been so powerfully claimed by Peter Shaffer? I asked him for an e-interview... First, here's the trailer:

JD: Matt, what made you want to write a detective story about Mozart's death? Especially after 'Amadeus' has had the market cornered for so many years?

MR: Peter Schaffer’s great play was written in the late Seventies. Milos Forman filmed it in the early Eighties. Which is getting to be rather a long time ago (though as I prepare to turn 44, I’d rather not admit that…) In turn, Schaffer’s play was a reworking of an old piece by Pushkin, which Mussorgsky later used as the basis for an opera. Yet there’s a great deal of new historical research on Mozart which gives tantalizing hints about his possible death and the reasons behind it – including the secret police infiltration of the Masons, of which Wolfgang was a leading member, and even his involvement in espionage. The Pushkin-Schaffer idea is based on a single confession of murder Salieri made – and later recanted – in a madhouse. I wanted to use this new historical research to come up with a new story about Mozart’s death. I certainly think readers have a deep fascination with Mozart which will make them open to a reexamination of the story of his demise. Most of all, I wanted to put his relationship with his sister Nannerl – the narrator of my novel – at the heart of the story. It was she who gave me the idea for the book, when I visited St. Gilgen, her little village in the Salzkammergut, the mountains near Salzburg. I saw an image of her in which she looked exactly like her brother. Naturally, that got my crime fiction juices bubbling…

JD: Do you think this really is what happened to Mozart?

MR: I do. When I put together all the latest historical research, I found it pointed toward the very thing that happens in my novel. Even research which at first contravenes my theory – such as the medical evidence that Mozart died of progressive kidney failure – turns out to be consistent with the effects of the way I have him dying. Certainly my reading of The Magic Flute adds, for me, another element of evidence which, when you put it together with the philosophy Mozart espoused in his letters, is very compelling. Of course, my novel is fiction and it’s my theory – not my absolute contention – that Mozart died this way. I hope that readers will find the novel generates their own ideas about what might truly have happened and that it’ll also make them look again at the music Mozart wrote in the shadow of sudden death. I heard all that great music – The Magic Flute, the Requiem, etc. – as if for the first time once I looked into the new historical research. I hope readers will have that experience too.

JD: How do you feel about taking liberties with real historical figures - eg (without giving the plot away) one character who is dramatically murdered in the course of the story, but in reality lived a long and distinguished life?

MR: I made sure that all the major characters – figures like Nannerl, Wolfgang’s wife Constanze, Baron Swieten, Police Minister Pergen – conformed to historical fact in the way the novel plays out. But I decided I could play with some of the minor characters, given that this is a novel. In the case of the fellow to which you refer, he did end up with a distinguished position, but as far as I can tell he remained a perpetual rogue (for which I rather admire him) and would entirely have approved of my misusing him.

JD: You decided to base the book's structure on the Mozart Piano Sonata in A minor - can you tell us a little more about why and how you did this? How problematic was it? Did it bother you that it might interfere with the genre's structural demands? How well do you feel it works?

MR: The A minor sonata is a response to a death. Mozart was in Paris on tour with his mother when she died. He wrote the sonata there. It has the disturbance of loss in its opening movement, then it examines that loss in the second, contemplative movement, and it resolves the loss in the final movement. That very much mirrors the structure of a crime novel. The “murder” followed by the investigation, and finally the revelation of what truly lay behind the killing. The primary function of using this sonata for the book, in terms of the writing, was that I was able to create a mood in my head as a I wrote. When I was writing the early part of the book, the jarring first movement was running in my head. The same with the other movements as the book progressed. It gave an energy to the writing with which I believe I was able to imbue the story. I got the idea from a concert pianist friend who said she visualizes a particular colour when she plays a particular piece of music, thus bringing herself to an emotional state matching the music. She isn’t just tapping on the right keys. So I tried it and I found it gave me a strong emotional connection to what I was writing – and maintaining that connection is much of the battle for a novelist, who has to write every day for months. It can’t just be inspiration; you need a repeatable technique you can tap into every day.

JD: Please tell us something about how you researched the book? And did you encounter resistance/skepticism/snobbery towards the idea from any quarters while so doing?

MR: As a writer of four previous crime novels, I’m accustomed to the snobbery of people who think (without ever reading any crime novels) that this isn’t literature. But I did wonder if there’d be an additional element here, in that classical musicians might doubt the project’s ability to represent the complexity of the music. However, the musicians I approached to help me write about the music allowed me to examine their performance process and to discuss performance during Mozart’s period. Now I like to think that’s because I’m such a winning, intelligent fellow, but I also expect that it’s because Mozart is such an absorbing subject for anyone with an interest in music or history that any doubts about the book’s supposed genre were immediately overcome.

My research also included learning the piano, which helped me get inside the structure of Wolfgang’s music, and listening to Mozart, Mozart, Mozart. Neither of these things was a hardship. Nor was repeated visits to Vienna, Salzburg, and the mountains nearby, where Mozart’s sister lived her married life.

As for potential resistance: researching my Palestinian novels was much more troublesome. People used to threaten me and hold guns on me in Nablus and Gaza. Classical music historians are softies in comparison.

JD: Do you have a musical background yourself? And do you think you'll return to the world of music for future novels?

MR: I play very little classical music, though I did re-learn piano to write this novel. I had lessons as a child, but I gave up the piano in favour of guitar as a teenager. I’ve played in a number of rock and alternative bands. When I lived in New York, I was a regular at CBGB’s, where I trod the same boards as The Police, Blondie and Elvis Costello. This has proved to me that I’m rather a mediocre musician, which only makes me more fascinated with Mozart who….wasn’t. The book I just delivered to my publisher is about the mysterious end of the great Italian artist Caravaggio, so I’m staying with the idea of historical mysteries about artists. I do think there’ll be more music in my forthcoming novels and I have a couple of mysterious stories concerning great composers in mind. They were fairly unpredictable types, and that makes them just right for crime fiction.

JD: Last, just one little thing that confused me: the title! I kept waiting for there to be a 'last aria', but the crucial piece is a piano sonata...did someone change your title for you?

MR: Aha, but the Mozart of the book’s title isn’t Wolfgang! It’s Nannerl, his sister – although we don’t know that at first. And so, without giving away the ending, I’ll say that the aria that’s heard in the Epilogue is the one to which the book’s title refers. You’re right that publishers do like to change titles and several of my books have been published under titles I didn’t initially choose. But in this case Mozart’s Last Aria is the title I used almost from the start.

"Mitsuko Uchida played for this milk"

 In this weekend's news:

Valentina Nafornita from Moldova won BBC Cardiff Singer of the World, though there was much stronger support on Twitter for Olesya Petrova and Andrei Bondarenko ("the name's Bond...arenko, Andrei Bondarenko...") for the performances yesterday. Valentina may have excelled in earlier rounds, and scooped the audience prize as well. But in the final she showed a lack of stamina and uncertain intonation. Nevertheless, she is thin, pretty, young and saleable. We wonder why anyone bothered with the singing.

'Max', aka Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, Master of the Queen's Music, has called for fines to be imposed on audience members whose phones go off during performances. As I can report that the LPO fines its players £5 a pop if a phone rings in rehearsal and £20 in a concert, we don't see why the audience should be exempt. It works. In 15 years I've only heard one orchestral phone jangle during full flood. Go get 'em, Max!

In Moscow, the Tchaikovsky Competition is in full swing. Barry Douglas, piano supremo and jury boss - himself a former winner - is tweeting updates. Follow him at @wbarrydouglas.

Here, I'm off for my first visit to Garsington Opera's new home at Wormsley near High Wycombe this afternoon. Yes, dear reader, I am attending a real, live baroque opera - a little-known job by good old Vivaldi. More of that anon.

And finally... welcome to Konzertmilch Dortmund. Perhaps this could only happen in Germany, where classical music is still daily bread...

Brahms for Father's Day

Father's Day is sad for those of us who've lost our dads. But it's also a beautiful reason to play you, in my Dad's memory, part of his favourite symphony. Dad, who died of cancer in 1996 aged 67, used to spend many happy hours in his armchair on Sunday afternoons listening to different recordings of this work and comparing them. If anyone in the family should have been a music critic, it was him. So here are Wilhelm Furtwangler and the Vienna Philharmonic in 1945 in Brahms's Symphony No.2. This is the first installment - for the rest, click through to Youtube and follow the links. I'm off to find my hanky.