The good, the bad and the ugly in books, exhibitions, cinema, TV, dance, music, podcasts and theatre.
It has to be Glen Campbell this week what with the announcement that, on account of Alzheimer's, his forthcoming tour will be his last. So here he is with a lovely stripped-down (no bloody strings!) version of Wichita Lineman.
It’s so rare I want to shout about anything from the rooftops but I do want to shout from the rooftops about The Ruby Dolls and their latest show, Rubies in the Attic, which takes cabaret and shapes it into something so original that if you can catch it you must. It’s so rare I want to shout about anything from the rooftops but I do want to shout from the rooftops about The Ruby Dolls and their latest show, Rubies in the Attic, which takes cabaret and shapes it into something so original that if you can catch it you must. The Dolls, whom I caught at the Riverside Studios in Hammersmith, are four women — Jessica Sedler, Tara Siddall, Jenny Grove and Susanna Fiore — who dress glamorously in the Forties style (oh, if only I could wear red lipstick like that!
If the atmosphere in Tokyo at the moment is relatively radiation-free — it is said to be less than in the cabin of the aircraft which flew us here — the mood among the local population is one of getting on with life. If the atmosphere in Tokyo at the moment is relatively radiation-free — it is said to be less than in the cabin of the aircraft which flew us here — the mood among the local population is one of getting on with life. Apparently, they collectively held their breaths (and stopped drinking the water) for about 24 hours at the time of the earthquake, and then turned what was left of their attention to abusing the Tokyo Electric Power Company. One of the things they have got on with is attending concerts of Western music.
DAC has written some dreadful and awful songs but also some mighty fine ones.
Been a while since we saw some Merle around here. Too long.
James MacMillan has a string of large-scale choral and orchestral works to his name, and last month saw the première of his chamber opera Clemency at Covent Garden. One wonders, then, how he makes time to write a new, small-scale choral piece for the re-opening of St Patrick’s Church in Soho Square. James MacMillan has a string of large-scale choral and orchestral works to his name, and last month saw the première of his chamber opera Clemency at Covent Garden. One wonders, then, how he makes time to write a new, small-scale choral piece for the re-opening of St Patrick’s Church in Soho Square.
Here’s a strange thing about Johann Sebastian Bach. Here’s a strange thing about Johann Sebastian Bach. You can be devoted to his work, love it more intensely than any other music, yet never get round to hearing some of his most awe-inspiring compositions, or even know what you’re missing. There are dozens — literally dozens — of pieces of 24-carat Bach whose names are known only to professional musicians and scholars and are barely represented in the recording catalogue: you might find two good digital performances of them, maybe three. Bach wrote at least 400 Church cantatas, of which half are missing.
Amidst all the Dylanmania this week it's worth recalling that Steve Earle once said, "Townes van Zandt is the best songwriter in the whole world and I'll stand on Bob Dylan's coffee table in my cowboy boots and say that." He may be forgiven his touch of hyperbole.
In ‘Poetry of Departures’, in which Philip Larkin imagines escaping his existence as a librarian for a life of wild daring and adventure, he writes: We all hate home And having to be there; I detest my room, It’s specially-chosen junk, the good books, the good bed. In ‘Poetry of Departures’, in which Philip Larkin imagines escaping his existence as a librarian for a life of wild daring and adventure, he writes: We all hate home And having to be there; I detest my room, It’s specially-chosen junk, the good books, the good bed. And my life, in perfect order. It is, he concludes, ‘reprehensibly perfect’. I wish I could say my life was so well organised.
You can't get much more country than Tonight the Bottle Let Me Down.
It is inevitable that a festival the size of the Proms should become a showcase not just for the artists taking part, but also for the way classical music is perceived more generally. There would be no point in a public services’ provider such as the BBC launching such an enterprise every year if it didn’t deliver what people wanted. And indeed it is clear that it matters very much to the BBC how many people do actually attend these concerts: the blurb is as full as ever of figures showing how last year was a ‘record-breaking’ year; and now how this year there were ‘376 tickets sold every minute during the first hour of BBC Proms booking’. Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Thousands of years ago, in or about 1977, I remember reading the intemperate jazzer Benny Green writing about Genesis, whose years of commercial success were just beginning. Green was not impressed. ‘It’s all very loud bits and very quiet bits,’ he said, or words to that effect. You can just imagine his customary wasp-chewing grimace of lofty contempt. But then everyone over a certain age hated pop music in those days, and senior jazzers were often wheeled out to express the silent majority’s view. Green’s comment hit home with me partly because, at the time, I adored Genesis, and partly because he was right. It was all very loud bits and very quiet bits. That was the fun of it.
In the aftermath of an early-evening thunderstorm on a baked Easter weekend, Trembling Bells took the stage in a Lewisham pub. They seemed like visitors from another time. It wasn’t quite clear which, but the most evident contender is the early Seventies, and it’s no surprise that Joe Boyd, the celebrated producer of Nick Drake and Fairport Convention, referred to them as ‘my kind of band’. In the aftermath of an early-evening thunderstorm on a baked Easter weekend, Trembling Bells took the stage in a Lewisham pub. They seemed like visitors from another time.
Here are Lester and Earl with the boys and, bless 'em, a lovely little sales pitch to put everyone in the mood for some old time harmony. Since it's Easter this seems like a good time to sing I'm On My Way to Canaan's Land...
It seems to me that society can now be divided into three different types of people on principles that have nothing to do with class, wealth or status, and everything to do with one’s ease — or lack of it — with modern technology. It seems to me that society can now be divided into three different types of people on principles that have nothing to do with class, wealth or status, and everything to do with one’s ease — or lack of it — with modern technology. In this arrangement, my parents, who live comfortably in Surrey with two cars in the drive and a delightful garden, would belong to the underclass. They have no computer at home, would have little idea how to use one if they did and even struggle with mobile phones.
Like many music fans, I could spend months pondering a playlist and coming up with dozens of variations. Since I assume I was invited to participate in Spotify Sunday as co-founder of Africa Express, I wondered whether to do an all-African list, but in the end decided to do a random shuffle of a few of my favourite things – much like the madness of an Africa Express show. Je T’aime – Staff Benda Bilili I first came across this band in Kinshasa, when a group of homeless paraplegics were carried on to the stage in a tiny club and left us all totally stunned. A breathtaking moment. Since then they have become global stars with their incredible rumba-driven grooves, overlaid with the virtuoso playing of Roger Landau and his homemade one-string electric lute.
It's a beautfiul sunny* afternoon heralding the start of summer and so here, to celebrate that, is Maybelle Carter and the girls with one of their many classics, Wildwood Flower: *Sod's Law dictates it will pour with rain next Saturday since that's when our cricket season begins.
It rapidly became inevitable that my annual trip to Fukushima would be cancelled: I was due to go less than a week after the earthquake. No explanations were asked for and none was given. After all, every contract I have ever signed has included a standard clause about force majeure — it is always taken for granted and assumed it will never be invoked — and here suddenly I was presented with the most complete definition of that phrase I could ever expect to encounter. The job in question was to judge the all-Nippon Choral Competition, which I had done for the previous three years. In so doing I had got to know not only the town of Fukushima and its delights, but also the people who run the Symphony Hall there, including the prefect of the province.
From an appearance on the Porter Wagoner show way back in the day. You can see why and how Lefty was such an influence on Merle.
Silly but kinda fun too: Ooh for the win, of course. Here's how it went: [A]ssembling the video was about as tricky an undertaking as as one can imagine. First, Smith had to sell his colleagues on the joke--which wasn't as hard as he initially feared. Most of his fellow lawmakers--at the time, the legislature was split evenly, with 30 Democrats and 30 Republicans--knew of Astley's 1987 hit and understood the basic concept of a "Rick Roll," he insists. "I pitched the idea to a few members, and they liked it," he recalls. But Smith--who developed the concept with his wife, a few colleagues and several friends, one of whom is video editor--had a few rules about the joke.
I need something new to listen to, and I need it now. But for some reason the latest CDs I have bought are not casting the right spell, and all the old albums I return to out of desperation sound worn and weary to my ears. We all have these little phases. Maybe there’s something in the air. (Call out the instigator, because there’s something in the air.) Maybe love is in the air. (Everywhere I look around. Love is in the air, every sight and every sound.) At least I am not walking in the air. This is getting serious. (I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord.) What if you realised, one day, that there simply wasn’t any more music that the mind can take? What if you reached saturation point? I worry about this.
Emmylou again and not just because, as Norm reminds me, it's her birthday today. Here she is with the Hot Band promising to be your San Antone Rose...
Charlie Siem, the half-British, half-Norwegian violinist, only came to the virtuosic style late in his development (‘probably because I was lazy’, he explains, not convincing me for a moment); but when he did he was hooked. His new, self-titled album (Warner Classics) is, ostensibly, a homage to the virtuosic tradition established in the early-19th century by Paganini, who once proclaimed, ‘I am not handsome, but when women hear me play, they come crawling to my feet.’ Siem, who is currently the global face of Dunhill, does not have that problem.
Last Friday I popped into Gramex, the world’s best second-hand classical CD and record shop, just behind Waterloo Station. Last Friday I popped into Gramex, the world’s best second-hand classical CD and record shop, just behind Waterloo Station. The owner took one look at me and declared, ‘This gentleman is tired. He needs a cup of tea and a Belgian bun.’ Before I had time to reply he dashed into the bakery opposite. Two minutes later I sat there, sticky bun in hand, while he put the kettle on. They wouldn’t do that in HMV. Actually, I suspect they won’t be doing anything in HMV by this time next year.
Why, despite his devoted fans, Grigory Sokolov won’t play live in Britain Grigory Sokolov is a pianist in his fifties; he is overweight, Russian, sleeps only three or four hours a night, is a strict vegan and is obsessed with the occult. He can calculate with one glance the number of seats in an empty concert hall and remembers instantly, to within an inch, where a piano used to be on a stage he hasn’t played on for years. Sokolov is also the reason we must overhaul, right now, the ridiculous visa system that prevents so many foreign artists from performing in the UK. Lord Clancarty started a debate on the matter in the Lords this week, and cited Sokolov as a reason. Clancarty was right.
The drugs don’t work sung the Verve on one of their best songs, and I’m feeling the same myself at the moment. The drugs don’t work sung the Verve on one of their best songs, and I’m feeling the same myself at the moment. The stash in my bedside cabinet aren’t drugs of the recreational variety but anti-depressants that I have been taking, on and off, but mostly on, for 30 years now. Depression for me always starts with acute anxiety and sudden rushes of panic.
He's only been singing about how Loving Her Was Easier for 40 years now, but here's Kris Kristofferson with an early version of the song from the Old Grey Whistle Test way back in 1972:.
In December 1956, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley and Carl Perkins met at the recording studios of Sun Records in Memphis, Tennessee. And Million Dollar Quartet, at the Noël Coward Theatre (booking until 1 October), charts this memorable get-together with 90 minutes of rock’n’roll played and sung by a not-exactly lookalike group of four — plus a few extras. In December 1956, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley and Carl Perkins met at the recording studios of Sun Records in Memphis, Tennessee. And Million Dollar Quartet, at the Noël Coward Theatre (booking until 1 October), charts this memorable get-together with 90 minutes of rock’n’roll played and sung by a not-exactly lookalike group of four — plus a few extras.
She's the broad of all broads and still terrific. If you doubt that then you probably lack heart and soul.