Yesterday, Martyn spotted in passing a reference to a concert in which the wonderful Nicola Benedetti was to be performing. On checking further, it turned out to be that very evening, and, after a mighty struggle with the Disgustedville Council's awful website, he managed to get us a couple of tickets. (I, meanwhile, in a fraction of the time, had booked us a table at a nearby restaurant for an early supper, and then gone back and adjusted the timing to be on the safe side.)
The concert was of Elgar's violin concerto and Brahms's second symphony. The first I knew not at all, and the latter very well. Benedetti's performance was stunning. It seems a demanding virtuoso piece, and she handled it extremely well. I'm afraid that, after the first movement, I whispered to Martyn 'She's wasted on Elgar!. I always get the feeling that, with Elgar, it's like eating in a run of the mill Indian restaurant: there are some nice twists here and there, but underlying everything is the same old gravy. The trouble with the Brahms was me. I'm used to a couple of familiar interpretations, and yesterday's was rather farther from either of them than was comfortable. The funereal pace of the first two movements left me wondering whether the conductor was being paid by the hour. The third - and particularly the fourth - movements made we wonder whether he'd suddenly realised he had a train to catch. Granted, the fourth movement was taken at exactly the tempo I like.
For all this ungracious carping, I have to say that the overall experience was very positive. It's always good to hear good live performances, and the little English Symphony Orchestra acquitted itself well. Sure, it lacked the polish and crispness of some of the big-name orchestras, but it's entitled to be proud of its performance.
I think I've harvested and packed all the seeds I'm going to. The process has wrought havoc on the hay fever, so I'm currently sneezing and runny-eyed. Still, all will be well when we're out on the ocean again. Next May...
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