At
Daniel Swain's suggestion, I'd like to bring more of a journal feel to the weblog, to give you a little more insight into what goes on here behind the scenes. We'd love to know what you think, so please feel free to leave a comment for us!
The two of us just returned from our first proper recital tour, to South Wales, organized by Live Music Now. It was a great success (if I say so myself!).
Land Of Music
First stop was Newport, where we played to a near sold-out local audience. Like our Edinburgh Fringe 2004 efforts, the stage was beautifully lit, as might be expected from a theatre-style venue, with spots, coloured rays of light, and a live digital reflection of us projected onto a backdrop. It's always fascinating to hear people debate the virtues of visual effects during concerts, and people come to vastly different conclusions. But performing in a packed auditorium in a pocket of light surrounded by virtual darkness is something I relish. Perhaps it gives more focus and concentration to the situation, I don't know. But something makes it seem more electric.
Two days later we found ourselves in Cardiff, at the
Wales Millennium Centre. A magnificent, monstrous structure - frightening in its size and scope - it is a monument in itself, a vast expanse of wood and slate (or were they slate-covered breezeblocks?), and not dissimilar to an international airport. Any bags to check in? Nope - that's the box office! Enthusiastic audience members abound, and the setting is a fascinating one. It's challenging to perform soft pieces in a noisy environment, because done badly they will seem fractured and broken; the melodies are shattered beneath a clatter of noise. But get it right, and they will seem to float above on a separate level, like a chemical rising to the surface of water. Such separation means that, despite the distractions around, the intensity of the moment is maintained. Perhaps, by playing in such an environment, performers are to some extent forcing, or at least helping people to make the transition from hearing music as background sound, to actively listening to it. Despite the surroundings, the music becomes considered, processed, and hopefully understood. It's magical to watch some of the best street artists in London's
Covent Garden district; they do this consummately. I think, and hope, we managed it here.
Stuff Going Wrong? That's All Part Of The Fun!The most extraordinary experiences often come from the most unexpected places. Between these two concerts lay a handful of more local, community-based recitals that produced a
kaleidoscopic range of characters and situations that left us both shocked, exhausted, and excited for more.
In the
tragic yet tranquil valleys, autumn was turning and there were many wonderful reds and browns and greens. Past Aberfan and beyond, where once was slag lay now a postcard-view of trees and falling leaves.
Sure, I can't write in detail about the people we met and played to, but suffice it to say that it is humbling to play for people who live out their lives in a daily struggle with adverse circumstances, yet who don't see those struggles as obstacles.
The most wonderful thing that comes from this kind of acceptance is that even the most trival things become massively significant... and fun! Immediately, the smallest events seem totally hilarious.
Blow Me Down - Notes From A Small Concert TourOf the many little moments, some stand out.
- Our first concert is accompanied by alarms, blaring out throughout most of the programme. But that's nothing to the Cockateel in the other room.
- Minutes before we begin another concert, my belt snaps. As the waiting audience munches on hot buttered toast, George the volunteer rushes to my aid with an assortment of safety pins. My modesty is restored :)
- Another small welsh village is gripped by a fearsome storm when we arrive. The elderly audience braves the wind and rain to make it to the hall, but the concert's start is delayed when one of the village elders is ...blown over. A friendly continental lady is deeply moved by the music of her homeland. She buried her husband last week, she says. This is her second afternoon out.
- Arriving in Cardiff, we are whisked instantly back to the 1950s. B&B apparently stands for Beige and Beautiful. We go to eat in an anachronistic cafe where decor, service and clientele seem an eternal 60 years young. Solitary eaters stare contentedly at their peas and Smash, comforted by the passing conversation of the dashing young food server. This is true community, and it's beautiful.
Here We Go Round The Roundabout
Daniel and I faithfully maintained our own little comedy of errors too, and between my map-reading and his navigation we managed to take miscomprehension of roundabouts to a hereforto unsurpassed level. If ever you travel the wildest depths of the A470, please do look out for my sense of direction. I think I left it there.
I get the feeling that these Live Music Now concerts are going to be a whole lot of fun. And not just for us...
The final recital of our Autumn tour was a private recital at the house of one of the Royal Academy's financial supporters. And what a great place to give a concert! The owner of the house was an art dealer, and this was reflected in the unfeasibly beautiful artwork adorning the walls. The performance space, intimate and warm, was decked out in indian-themed finery, and just that day, a new painting had been hung on the wall - new in the sense that it had been newly restored after lying undiscovered in a dutch attic for over 150 years! The butler (yes, a genuine English butler!) showed us the extraordinary roof gardens that wound their way around and above our performance space. Just for a moment I imagined what it would be like to be a magpie... So many shiny things! So thrilling! But in retrospect, it was the simplest things - a single vine winding its way up some brickwork, for instance - that were the most beautiful.
