I’ve had an inkling of what it’s like to be a political journalist this week. Or at least what i think it might be like, starting the week thinking the angle on live performance was documenting the first tentative post-COVID steps and the hope that emanates from attending DCMS ‘pilot events’ at St John’s Smith…
They are broadcast moments – so far – that remind me of the only thing which appears to make sense to me right now: someone’s musical intent articulated by a team of musicians who themselves create a spectacle that moves not only me but a whole crowd of other people I don’t know.
Finally. Amid a global pandemic, the audience gets the credit it deserves.
I was at Henry Wood Hall this afternoon to interview brass players and percussionists at the LPO rehearsing and recording for the band’s Summer Sessions available on YouTube next week, many of whom hadn’t seen each other in real life for four months. Also weird to see actual people in real life doing ‘work things’.…
This weekend feels like one of those important transition times. This partly down to the government eagerness getting us back to the good-old-British-pub, the busy-ness of the nearby South Circular, and the comfort our neighbours display welcoming a considerable number of pals into their garden this afternoon, people who are quite happy hugging and stroking…
A summer of concert broadcasts to listen to. It’s basically how I consume the Proms anyway.
An unexpected delivery today through the letterbox. A spongy brown envelope in which was a tote bag and a face mask. Inventive marketing I thought. Arresting communications, as I retrieved the Borlotti Buitoni Trust branded mask and bag. I’ll admit that I still don’t like wearing a mask. It’s dehumanising. I hate not seeing other…