There are some crossings out in my diary, which might have led to the note:
?? Who came with me.
Again, lining up the usual suspects means Jilly, Annalisa and Bobbie. Again, the prime suspect is Bobbie. I think I had queried the name of my companion, because I thought I had crossed out the word “Bobs?”. But my now more sophisticated forensics (use of a magnifying glass) tells me that I crossed out the word “Box?” instead.
Whether or not we sat in a box for this one is another part of the mystery. I do recall occasionally grabbing a brace of box seats back then, although I did soon settle for preferring frontish stalls for Proms concerts.
Anyway…
…this one was a good, solid concert as I recall. We heard:
Carl Nielsen – Overture ‘Helios’
Sergey Rachmaninov – Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor
Jean Sibelius – Symphony No. 2 in D major
Stephen Hough tinkling the ivories, with the BBC Symphony Orchestra under Andrew Davis doing the rest.
If you don’t know what the Helios overture looks and sounds like, dig this version by the Danish National Orchestra:
Malcolm Hayes in The Telegraph spent about 60% of his word allocation slagging off perceived compositional flaws in Nielsen’s little Helios piece, while praising to the hilt the evening’s performances of monumental Rachmaninov and Sibelius pieces, which comprised some 85% of the concert. A wasted opportunity to write an incisive review of the Prom by Mr Hayes, in my view.
This was the second go that BDO Consulting (Binder Hamlyn’s management consultancy) had at sponsoring a Music At Oxford gig. I wrote up the frenetic first year of this exercise some while ago – click here and below:
Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] came along… We all stayed at the Moat House which was less fun than the Randolf.
The programme summarises the musical element of the gig neatly on one page:
If you want to hear the music, I have saved The English Concert’s recording of the version they performed in that Oxford concert as a playlist on YouTube Music. Click here. Don’t be put off if the link is crossed out. You can hear the music regardless of whether you have a YouTube Music account or not. You’ll just get adverts if you don’t.
As for the event itself, one of my main memories of it is connected to my agonising back injury at the time, which had only slightly lessened in pain level in the weeks between the injury and this event. I was going through one of my “soldiering on” phases in July.
Caroline no doubt tolerated my pained mood with grace but I don’t suppose I was at my best in terms of being good company.
We stayed at the Moat House that year, as indeed we did in 1991 as well. It felt like a bit of a come down from the Randolph from 1989, not least because the Moat House seemed less accommodating to us partying for much of the night.
The other thing I remember about the corporate entertaining aspect of the event itself was feeling that I fell short in terms of being the in-house know-all in the matter of the work we were going to hear. Trevor Pinnock and The English Concert – no problem at all. I could talk about them without difficulty. But the piece itself, Belshazzar, which colleagues felt was, on the surface, a story from a bit of the Bible that I was supposed to know about…I remember drawing a near blank.
Belshazzar’s feast…writing on the wall…Book of Daniel I think…not really my thing, the Bible…
Or you can instruct an AI to produce a suitably amusing, entertaining synopsis of the story. Here’s ChatGPT’s excellent effort produced with 30 seconds of instruction from me and fewer than 30 seconds of word spew by the software:
Handel’s oratorio Belshazzar is a richly dramatic retelling of the biblical story of the doomed Babylonian king who meets his fate amidst a whirlwind of prophecy, divine intervention, and questionable party etiquette. With a libretto by Charles Jennens, this musical spectacle features a colorful cast of characters and explores themes of hubris, faith, and the consequences of bad decisions—all wrapped up in Handel’s glorious score.
The curtain rises, metaphorically speaking, on the city of Babylon, which is under siege by the Persian king Cyrus. But Belshazzar, the Babylonian king, isn’t the sort to let a little thing like a military crisis cramp his style. As the besieging armies gather outside the city walls, Belshazzar is busy inside indulging in a grand banquet. This isn’t just any feast; it’s a celebration of excess, arrogance, and a bold defiance of the gods—a recipe for disaster if ever there was one.
Belshazzar’s mother, Nitocris, is the voice of reason in the chaos. Wise, devout, and thoroughly unimpressed by her son’s antics, she tries to persuade him to temper his arrogance and take the threat of Cyrus seriously. Naturally, Belshazzar ignores her sage advice, because what’s a good tragedy without someone doubling down on their hubris?
Meanwhile, outside the city, Cyrus is not your average conqueror. He’s portrayed as a virtuous leader, guided by divine providence and a sense of justice. Alongside him is Gobrias, a Babylonian nobleman with a personal vendetta against Belshazzar, who had his son executed. Gobrias’s hatred burns hotter than the desert sun, and he’s all in on Cyrus’s plan to overthrow the Babylonian king.
Back in Babylon, Belshazzar’s party is in full swing, and things take a dramatic turn when he orders the sacred vessels plundered from the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem to be brought out and used as drinking cups. This act of sacrilege is the ancient equivalent of poking a very angry bear with a very short stick. As the wine flows and the revelry peaks, a mysterious, disembodied hand appears and begins writing on the wall. The text, cryptic and foreboding, sends the partygoers into a panic. Belshazzar, for all his bravado, is understandably shaken and calls for his wise men to interpret the writing.
Enter Daniel, the Hebrew prophet, who has a knack for decoding divine messages. He’s summoned to explain the ominous graffiti, and his interpretation is anything but reassuring. The writing—“Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin”—translates to a grim prophecy: Belshazzar’s reign is over, his deeds have been weighed and found wanting, and his kingdom will be divided between the Medes and the Persians. Not exactly party talk, but it’s a showstopper nonetheless.
While Belshazzar processes this bad news (or rather, doesn’t), Cyrus and his forces execute a cunning plan to enter the supposedly impenetrable city. They divert the Euphrates River, lowering the water level and enabling the Persian army to sneak into Babylon under the cover of night. It’s a heist worthy of an action film, complete with suspense, strategy, and a dramatic payoff.
The climax comes swiftly. Cyrus and his troops storm the city, and Gobrias, fueled by vengeance, confronts Belshazzar. The once-mighty king meets his end, and Babylon falls into Persian hands. Cyrus, magnanimous in victory, proclaims freedom for the Jewish exiles, allowing them to return to their homeland and rebuild their temple in Jerusalem. It’s a triumphant conclusion for some and a dire cautionary tale for others.
Handel’s Belshazzar is a feast for the ears and the imagination. The music captures every nuance of the story, from the swaggering arrogance of Belshazzar to the solemn wisdom of Daniel and the heroic resolve of Cyrus. The choruses are particularly noteworthy, ranging from the jubilant praise of the Persians to the somber lament of the Babylonians. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, with plenty of drama, divine justice, and a hint of schadenfreude as Belshazzar gets what’s coming to him.
In summary, Belshazzar is a tale of epic proportions, blending history, theology, and theatrical flair. It’s a story where the writing’s literally on the wall, hubris meets its match, and redemption shines through the rubble of a fallen empire. Handel’s music ensures that this timeless story continues to resonate, entertaining audiences with its grandeur, poignancy, and occasional moments of dark humor. So, the next time you’re tempted to throw a wild party in defiance of the gods, remember poor Belshazzar and perhaps reconsider the guest list.
That sounds well cool. I’ll give it another listen.
Trevor Pinnock and his gang did the show again at the Royal Albert Hall a couple of week’s later (Prom 3). Here are a few (mixed) reviews from that performance:
Fair Use of programme art for identification purposes – click here.
This was the third pf a trio of concert visits with “The West End Client” crowd. Again I am sure Rosemarie Whitely and Suan Yap would have been there – I think Rosemarie was a keen Anita fan. Stephen Lee probably organised it.
The other concerts we saw in that first half of 1990 were, in reverse sequence, Luther Vandross…
Anyway, I recall that this Anita Baker concert was very good indeed. Possibly, in truth, suffering from the same problem I nearly always felt at Wembley Arena – too big a venue for that act. I guess I got spoilt at Keele seeing great act in a venue for 1,000 people. Wembley Arena is more than 10 times that capacity.
Sadly this was the last concert I saw with that group, as I did my catastrophic back knack just a week later. But I wasn’t to know that while listening to the sweet tones of Anita Baker’s voice.
I cannot find any video of Anita performing live on that tour. But here is one of the tracks from her Compositions album which she did perform on that tour:
Here is a short clip of her performing live perhaps three or four years earlier:
Here is an excellent piece about Anita from the Observer a few days before the show:
I think this Luther one might have been Rosemarie Whiteley’s idea, although it might have been Stephen Lee. I think it was Stephen who acted as ringleader for gathering names and booking tickets for this sort of thing.
The diary merely says “Luther” which suggests that we met at Wembley and didn’t arrange any pre-concert gathering.
I do recall lots of chat, especially among the females in our group, as to whether we were going to get Fat Luther, Thin Luther or “Some Weight In-between” Luther. They were convinced that his weight was “a thing”. The Guardian review below from Luther’s previous visit in 1989 does suggest that his weight was very much “a thing”.
If I recall correctly we got “In-between” Luther.
I was not a huge fan of Wembley Arena for gigs – insufficiently intimate for my taste – but I remember that this concert worked really well there. Quite a big sound, Luther’s live act.
It was actually a very good concert. I remember thoroughly enjoying it. I had Luther’s Greatest Hits by that time so was familiar with most of the numbers we saw that night; it was pretty much the standard Luther fare I think. I believe his 1989 concerts had been vastly over-subscribed, hence the return in 1990 to do several more.
The video below shows you what he looked like at Wembley, but the live footage was shot the previous year, 1989, with Big Luther:
We saw a few things as a group around that time. Actually I think there was a somewhat enlarged crowd for the Paul McCartney. I think Stephen Lee was the ringleader for these gatherings and this one proved especially popular. I have a feeling Beatrice was there for this one and I think a good few other people.
I am glad that I have seen Paul McCartney perform live; of course this type of 20 to 30 years on concert covers a lot of classics, but in truth I don’t think this was a great gig. I didn’t think Wembley Arena suited this type of band/arrangement (insufficiently intimate – although you are unlikely to get an intimate gig with Paul McCartney).
Now we live in the internet era, I have quickly and easily found and embedded a recording of the whole gig and the Guardian review from the time – see below.
But while I lack a travel log for this holiday, I can fall back on my theatres and concerts log for the centrepiece of this day, the day after Thanksgiving – now known as Black Friday -was that “a thing” back then – I don’t recall hearing the term. Anyway, my log says:
Great gig on a Friday afternoon. Only 12 days after I met Rita. Moose had spent a couple of days schlepping around New York with me, so I treated her to this concert by way of a thank you.
I have also described Rita’s daughter, Mara Frank’s, informal New York tour guide role in the “Part One” piece linked above. All that remains to explain is that Mara was known as Moose back then. Possibly still is. I’ll try and find out, as I have managed to track her down and we are communicating over these pieces.
Anyway, point is…well, exactly the point I made on the log. I wanted to see stuff at the Lincoln Centre before I left New York and spotted that there was good availability of tickets over that holiday weekend.
The chance to see Zubin Mehta and the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in New York seemed too good to miss. I thought Mara (Moose) might enjoy seeing them too.
Here is a recording of Zubin Mehta & The New York Philharmonic Orchestra playing the very Vivaldi piece we heard in the very Lincoln Centre in which we heard it – albeit the recording has sightly more high falutin’ soloisti:
It was a super concert that afternoon and I think Moose enjoyed it. But possibly she didn’t – she’d have been far too polite to say if she hadn’t liked it. Mara, if by any chance you remember, you can tell me truthfully now.
Subsequently, when she came to live in London, I discovered that Mara was a keen fan of Dr Demento. Moose and I spent many happy, silly hours listening to her Dr Demento tapes. But Moose is probably blissfully unaware of my own massive novelty song canon, as I think she had returned to the USA before my NewsRevue writing career started, in 1992. NewsRevue is explained in the anniversary piece – click here or below:
But Dr Demento (and Newsrevue) stuff is a far cry from Zubin Mehta and the New York Phil…but then, I like all sorts of music – Moose might also like both. In fact, now I come to think of it, John Random is a doyen of NewsRevue writers/lyricists and he is an avid fan of Zubin Mehta.
But back to Black Friday 1989: that was an afternoon concert and I’m pretty sure Mara and I spent at least the early part of the evening together too. This might have been the occasion when she insisted on buying me Godiva chocolates (mentioned in the Part One piece).
I also recall being scammed by a fast-talking sob-story merchant. It’s hard to imagine falling for one of those, but we didn’t have them in London back then (or at least young folk like me didn’t encounter them) so I fell for the “just need my train fare” story and gave him a couple of bucks.
He’ll be a junky and the bucks will be spent on drugs, not transport…
…said Mara.
I don’t fall for those any more.
I think Mara and I had a bite to eat together and I think this was the last I saw of her until she came to London for her placement the following year. But I’m happy to stand corrected if my memory has missed or confused these details.
As a musical aside, I remember thinking the concert an ideal choice for Moose, as it had some Sibelius in it and Sibelius had been the centre-piece of the concert at which I had met Rita.
I cannot find Zubin Mehta conducting Sibelius, but I have found one of the first ever filmed concerts at the Lincoln Centre, from the early 1960’s, with Leonard Bernstein conducting Finlandia, the very piece of Sibelius we heard. It is actually a very fine performance and also a rather splendid piece of historic concert filming:
Amazing evening – although the programme seems to be lost. Jilly had left two tickets for me at short notice. I gave away the spare ticket at the door, to Rita Frank. I drove her back to Marge’s place in Hackney via everywhere due to mega fog – I had just passed my driving test & didn’t even know where the fog lights were. Rita busied herself dancing in her seat to my hippy tape. Friendship founded.
All I can recall of the concert is that the centrepiece was a Sibelius symphony. I think Sibelius 5 but it might be 2. I’m struggling to find more details, although more details must be available somewhere if I search hard enough…
…update!
I have subscribed to a newspaper clipping service and found this:
London Symphony Orchestra with Paavo Berglund to provide authentic Finnish conducting. Barry Douglas tinkling the ivories. Thank you, Jilly!
Jilly was working at the Barbican at that time and would occasionally hand down tickets to me. Usually with a little more notice than on this occasion. I told Jilly that I’d struggle to find a date for a Sunday evening concert at such short notice but that I’d like to see that concert (whatever it was). Her view was that it was better to place one of the tickets than neither.
When I got to the Barbican and collected my tickets, there was a queue for returns; mostly couples and small groups. I announced that I had one spare ticket and was happy to give it away.
Two middle-aged women started bickering with each other, the first trying to refuse and the second telling the first that she really should take the ticket.
Seems that I’m your date…
…said the American woman, who I learnt was named Rita Frank and lived in New York. Her friend, Marge lived in Hackney and was (I think) an academic. Marge, being a generous soul, was happy that the expedition had at least ended up with her visitor/guest getting to see the concert. Marge went home.
Rita was charming company for an evening at the concert hall. She clearly was not very familiar with London, though, so I sensed she was a little daunted by the thought of travelling back to Hackney alone.
I had my car with me, having fairly recently (that summer) passed my driving test. I offered to take Rita back to Marge’s house, handing Rita my car copy of the L0ndon A-Z map book (remember those? No sensible Londoner drove without one.)
As we emerged from the Barbican Centre, I saw that a heavy fog had descended. Really heavy fog.
“Oh, London Fog”, said Rita, “I’ve heard all about these…”
Of course, I’d heard about them too, but by 1989 they were extremely rare, such that I don’t recall ever having seen quite so much fog in London before…or since.
“Oh wow”, said Rita, grabbing one of my cassettes from a pile, “The Happy Tape…that sounds great. Can we listen to The Happy Tape?”
“Actually, it’s called The Hippy Tape”, I said.
“Even better”, said Rita.
The Hippy Tape was a superb mix tape – or in the modern parlance and in its current incarnation – is a superb playlist. It comprises these beauties:
Turn Turn Turn, The Byrds Bluebird, Buffalo Springfield Nashville Cats, Lovin’ Spoonful Rock’n’Roll Woman, Buffalo Springfield Purple Haze, Jimi Hendrix Experience Let Us In, Speedy Keen Ballad of Easy Rider, The Byrds Keep On Truckin’, Donovan White Room, Cream For What It’s Worth, Buffalo Springfield I Feel Free, Cream May You Never, John Martyn Somebody To Love, Grace Slick Meet Me On the Corner, Lindisfarne Moonshadow, Cat Stevens Alabama, Neil Young The Needle and the Damage Done, Neil Young White Rabbit, Jefferson Airplane Magical Connection, John B Sebastian The First Cut is the Deepest, P P Arnold Crazy Love, Van Morrison
I most certainly hadn’t driven in fog before. I knew that there was such a thing as fog lights, but I had no idea what they were or how to operate them on my spanking new, first ever, car. (A red Renault 19, seeing as you asked).
My inadequacies in the fog lights department were exceeded by Rita’s inadequacies in the map reading department…
…in any case Rita seemed more interested in grooving to The Hippy Tape, which is great driving music in conditions where you can see and know where you are going…
…but not so great when you are trying to navigate neighbourhoods you don’t know as a recently qualified driver in dense fog.
My “sense of direction inadequacies” are a matter of legend. The sat nav could have been invented just for me, but in 1989, in the absence of knowing where you are going and in the absence of a helpful map reader and in the presence of dense fog…
…we simply drove around and around the mean streets of the East End for ages, until a mixture of borderline adequacy and luck got us to Marge’s house in one piece. A near miracle, frankly.
Marge turned out to be charming company too. Also a fairly practical sort (compared with me and Rita), who was able to fortify me with coffee and give me some sensible, simple directions to get back to somewhere I vaguely knew and from whence I could take a straight road in the direction of West London.
Meanwhile, it transpired that Rita was not just a New Yorker, but lived on the Upper West Side, very close to the apartment I was, coincidentally, being lent for a week, just over a week hence. Rita was most insistent that I get in touch when I got to New York. Her daughter, Mara, would be off college that week (Thanksgiving week) and would be delighted to act as my informal guide to New York.
At the time, I thought Rita was simply being super polite and that I would probably just “touch base” with her when I got to New York…
…besides, I imagined that 20-year-old Mara might have other ideas about the joys (or otherwise) of showing a random Londoner around New York…
My client was hugely apologetic. The only way they could arrange the three days of meetings in Amsterdam required at a delicate stage of the project I was managing was to schedule a Thursday, Friday and then Monday. They realised that this would be inconvenient for me and of course they were happy to fly me backwards and forwards to London if I wanted to spend the weekend at home or they were happy to put me up and feed me at their expense for the duration, including the weekend.
Young, free and single in September 1989, I was delighted to go for the “stay in Amsterdam at their expense” option.
Please stay at the Kras on our corporate account if you are going to stay that long…
…they said. It would have been rude to say no. I usually stayed for my short stopovers at a more modest place, the Rembrandt Classic I think, preferring the less formal and low key atmosphere.
Once work was done on the Friday evening, the weekend was my own. I didn’t keep a log of this visit but I remember most of the things I did:
an Indonesian rijsttafel meal on the Friday evening. A rijsttafel for one is a bit of an oxymoron, but the restaurant came highly recommended by my Dutch clients, for good reason;
Van Gogh Museum;
Rijksmuseum;
Rembrandt House;
Concertgebouw on Saturday evening (see below);
Anne Frank House (on the Sunday if I remember correctly);
Lots of strolling around the canals, sitting in coffee bars (the proper posh ones that serve coffee and play classical music), reading my book and feeling terribly sophisticated. I’m sure Mozart Violin Concertos weren’t playing all the time in every coffee shop, but I do remember hearing them more than once. I have, ever since, associated those concertos with this weekend in Amsterdam.
Concertgebouw, 23 September 1989
I was thrilled to be able to score a good ticket at the Concertgebouw “on a whim”. I guess it is that much easier to be lucky and get a single ticket at short notice. I liked the look of the concert and was not disappointed.
I heard/saw the house band (Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra aka Koninklijt Concertgebouworkest) conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch, with
Ludwig van Beethoven – Overture “Leonora” Op 72a
Richard Strauss – Horn Concerto No 2 in E Flat Major
Another CBSO with Simon Rattle concert and another note in my diary wondering who joined me for this one. My prime suspect this time is Bobbie. For sure she was around again by then, as she had been away for most of August that year but for sure was back by the end of the month when we saw the Merchant Of Venice:
Hough Prom Telegraph Hayes 06 Aug 1990, Mon The Daily Telegraph (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
