Fraught memories

Time for some homework for this month's BBC Music Magazine podcast. Top of the list is a fabulous new recording of Beethoven and Berg Violin Concertos from violinist Isabelle Faust, the Orchestra Mozart and conductor Claudio Abbado. Berg's luscious, hyper-Romantic piece was written in 'The Memory of an Angel'. Commissioned by the violinist Louis Krasner, its emotional world has a tragic inspiration, the death of an 18-year-old friend of Berg's, Manon Gropius. Berg himself died just eight months after finishing it; he wasn't alive for the premiere, in Barcelona with Krasner. Here's an old recording of Krasner with Anton Webern conducting:

My other blog...

Sometimes, when I'm not blogging here, I'm bundling up my thoughts for a blog with a different purpose - work. Writing about music is of course a pleasure, although it can be pretty hard work too. Here are links to a few of the posts I've written for BBC Music Magazine.

Violinist Alina Ibragimova made a wonderful impression with her Js Bach/Vivaldi/Biber concert in Bath; The Plight of the Page Turner: one of the most nerve-racking tasks in music?; My top nine symphonies; a review of Mozart's Don Giovanni from the Met; the glorious Gould Piano Trio at St George's Bristol; Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito from Aix-en-Provence; Natalie Dessay stars as Violetta in Verdi's La traviata; the First Night of the Proms; Stephen Hough's strange sonatas recital; Beethoven from the Budapest Festival Orchestra; Cellophony: what do you call a group of eight cellists?

That's all for now folks!

I wish it were me…

A hammock on a balcony; a woman with long brown hair lounges in February sun of genuine warmth, reading her book, listening to the strains of music playing inside, every so often gazing at the panoramic view from Royal York Crescent over Bristol. A little moment of contentment.

The Transfiguration Window

What does a window do? It keeps us warm. It lets us see. It shows us what would otherwise be hidden. It lets in the light.

I’m not religious, but even to me the sacred metaphors seem to echo pretty loudly. And I also know that the stained glass of churches and cathedrals are some of the most beautiful windows around, mesmerising creations in glowing colours. Think of the breathtaking medieval glass at King’s Chapel in Cambridge, the Rose window in Notre Dame. Or, my new favourite, the stunning arch window in Durham Cathedral unveiled just over a year and a half ago, made by Thomas Denny.

The first thing that hits you is a bright burst of white light, a brilliant strip that runs down the centre of the window. Glass in orangey amber hues edges it, with purple-blue at the edges. Peer a bit closer, and you see people. Small figures with delicately edged faces populate the window, scenes from the Bible played out in flickering light.

Like Van Gogh's paintings, The Transfiguration Window has a compelling power that comes into its own when you're standing there in front of it – it's a piece of art that's full of vivid life. Perhaps it's because the confluence of religious meaning and artistic means couldn't be more apt. This window depicts Christ becoming radiant; it quite literally transfigures the light.

Park Street, Bristol

The Artist

*Smiles*, *waves*, *winks*. *Thumbs up* for The Artist!

The Birthday Boys

Where and when is it set? The chilly climes of Antarctica, 1910-12.
Who is in it? The five main characters are the real men who lost their lives on the fateful expedition to the South Pole: Petty Officer Edgar (Taff) Evans; Dr Edward (Uncle Bill) Wilson; The Owner: Capt. Robert Falcon (Con) Scott; Lt. Henry Robertson (Birdie) Bowers; Capt. Lawrence Edward (Titus) Oates
What happens? You already know the ending:  the trek was doomed, the Norwegians beat the Brits to it, Oates goes outside 'and may be some time'. The magic of this book lies in the telling.
So how is it told? Five narratives, each from a different perspective, each compelling in its own way. We don't know which is the most accurate, but then when do we in life?
What are the best bits? Apart from its wonderful blend of fact and fiction (the imagining of the 'truth' behind some of the famous photographs from the voyage, for example), it is Bainbridge's gift for description, and her metaphors that are captivating.
Here's a touching, vivid moment, amid the slog of a three-man, 19-day trek to Cape Crozier. Undernourished, frostbitten, weary, the explorers still found time to appreciate the surroundings, writes Birdie:
'It wasn't all misery. On one of our halts we lay spread-eagled on the ice and stared up at a sky blazing with the glory of the most wonderful aurora I'd ever witnessed. I groaned beneath the splendour of those silken curtains, yellow, green, and orange, billowing at the window of the heavens.'