This was one of several Music At Oxford events that my old firm, BDO Consulting (aka Binder Hamlyn Management Consultants) sponsored between 1989 and 1992.
The first of them included an action-packed, cartoon-like journey to Oxford – click here or below.
The 1991 edition was a far more sedate affair – at least it was for me – as the fireworks were part of the show on this occasion.
Annalisa de Mercur accompanied me on this occasion. I think we all stayed at The Moat House, as we had done in 1990 when Caroline Freeman accompanied me.
We heard:
George Frideric Handel – Water Music Suite No 2 in D major HWV 349
Johann Pachelbel – Canon
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Serenade No 13 in G K525 “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”
Johann Sebastian Bach – Brandenburg Concerto No 1 in F BWV 1046
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Horn Concerto No 4 in E Flat K495 3rd Movement
Malcolm Arnold – Sinfonietta No 1 for two oboes, two horns and strings
Samuel Barber – Adagio for Strings
George Frideric Handel – Music for the Royal Fireworks
Ah, in fact I have the running order from the programme:
It was quite a late evening affair, this one, with the second half not even starting until 9:45, so the fireworks must have been at what would now be deemed to be an antisocial hour.
I’m pretty sure we young consultants were discouraged from continuing our antisocial activities on our return to the hotel, so the boisterous singing |I remember from the first event I’m pretty sure simply didn’t happen this time around.
Drinking and chatting in the hotel bar almost certainly did happen, though.
I remember this one as a very pleasant and largely relaxing outing. I’m not sure I had any clients of my own there that night – perhaps one – and the relative popularity of the programme meant that my musical knowledge (such as it is) was little called-upon.
Postscript: Annalisa recalls…
Is this the one with chandeliers in the marquee and a view across the lake? If so, I remember it. Clearly, the chandeliers made more of an impression than either the music or the fireworks! Chandeliers in marquees have become pretty commonplace now, but at the time I had never seen anything like it!
To the Royal Festival Hall in deep midwinter with Bobbie, as part of the BBC Symphony Orchestra 60th Anniversary festival. We went to a couple of these concerts; this was the second of them.
Stephen Bishop-Kovacevich waved the stick and David Butt played the flute. We heard three great works by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
Symphony No 39 in E Flat Major
Flute Concerto in G Major, K313/KE285c
Symphony No 40 in G Minor, K550
I’m not sure this was a perfect fit of conductor and orchestra for these works, but it was lovely to hear these familiar pieces in the Royal Festival Hall. I cannot find any newspaper archive reviews for this one, so my one-line review based on a memory of an event from nearly 34 years ago (as I write) will have to do.
Bobbie and I went to a couple of Friday evening concerts at The Royal Festival Hall as part of the BBC Symphony Orchestra’s 60th Anniversary festival.
We were supposed to see the great Günter Wand performing a couple of Beethoven Symphonies, but Günter pulled out at the last minute so Andrew Davis decided to shake a stick at one of Günter’s signature pieces:
Anton Bruckner – Symphony No 8 in C Minor.
Hence, a one piece concert, this.
I did subsequently get to hear and see Günter perform this piece with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at what turned out to be his last BBC Prom hurrah – another occasion when we turned up to hear one set of pieces and got Bruckner 8 instead.
It’s just as well that I like Bruckner 8. I guess I have become mighty familiar with it over the years, collecting four Bruckner 8’s in 10 years between 1989 and 1999.
Malcolm Hayes in The Telegraph was unsure about this brave (but in his view, flawed) 1991 attempt:
Annalisa was due to join me at this concert, but had to pull out at the last minute for some reason. The reason is not captured in my log. It was a Sunday, so I expect it was a health reason rather than a work reason.
Anyway, I hobbled to the Albert Hall alone for this Prom. I think it was the first time I had been to the Proms alone and possibly was the only time I have done so to date (the date of writing this being late 2024).
I say hobbled, because the cursory “traction” approach to my multiple prolapse was obviously not working and I was still in a great deal of pain with my back after my injury in June that year. Indeed, I associate my evening alone at the Proms with Anton & Günter as the point at which I resolved that I would have to try something else, but that I was determined to try something other than major surgery before possibly submitting to that as a last resort.
This was a one piece concert:
Anton Bruckner – Symphony No 5 in B Flat Major, performed by the maestro Günter Wand conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra.
I suspect that Bruckner 5 is a good number for contemplative thought – it is certainly long enough. I do remember finding this performance especially moving and being really taken with it.
It was filmed and the film has been released on DVD – here is an extract:
If you look very carefully you might spot me sitting in the stalls on my tod.
This was a big concert with a massive cast. Two big works:
Ludwig van Beethoven – Symphony No. 3 in E flat major, ‘Eroica’
Leos Janáček – Glagolitic Mass
One heck of a lot of musicians: The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir & BBC Symphony Chorus, The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra & the (now) late, great Czech conductor Libor Pešek. Not to forget soloists John Mitchinson, Michael George, Jane Eaglen, Ameral Gunson and Ian Tracey.
Jilly accompanied me on this occasion, according to my log, which is usually pretty reliable, as long as I wrote the details down at or near the time, which on this occasion I guess I did.
However, I returned to the scene of the crime, for a different rendition of the Glagolitic Mass, a couple of years later and did not log the name of my companion, which has resulted in one of the greatest mysteries in the entire history of Ogblog postings about 1992 classical concerts – click here or below.
The prime suspect for the 1992 evening is now Bobbie, who has gone very quite on that topic.
Jilly wrote to say:
With regards to the concert in 1992, I must admit that my memory does somewhat fail me. I can hardly remember what I did yesterday, let alone 30 years ago, but all I can say is that I don’t remember ever seeing the Glagolitic Mass performed, and I’m not sure that I’ve actually ever seen Simon Rattle conducting in person, but if it’s helpful for you to put me down as having been at the concert with you I won’t object!
Well, Jilly, what do you have to say now that the log has fingered you for a different performance of the Glagolitic Mass? I’m expecting a confession. No need for an apology.
To be fair, Jilly also says:
Thank you for attaching the review at the bottom; how that choir managed to sing a Slavonic piece without the score just baffles me. Reading and pronouncing the transliterated version of Rachmaninov Vespers utterly did my head in, and that was with a good number of rehearsals.
Bobbie joined me on my birthday in 1990 for this Prom. I seem to recall it was a goody.
James Conlon conducting the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra in the following works:
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – Violin Concerto No 4 in D major, K 218
Gustav Mahler – Symphony No. 6 in A minor
Isabelle van Keulen was the soloist for the Mozart. She was a young star back then, as was Mozart when he wrote his violin concertos.
Here are YouTubes of Isabelle’s recording of the Mozart 4 Violin Concerto. With the Concertgebouw Chamber Orchestra rather than the Rotterdam Philharmonic, but you can’t have everything. The girl can play.
There’s not much out there to illustrate James Conlon conducting the Rotterdam Philharmonic, but this section from Liszt’s Faust Symphony is rather charming:
While here is the Rotterdam Philharmonic more recently, with current Principle Conductor Lahav Shani, performing a short snatch from Mahler 6:
Meanwhile, back to that 1990 concert, Robert Henderson in The Telegraph seemed satisfied but not ecstatic:
Edward Greenfield in the Guardian waxed lyrical about the Mahler but not so about the Mozart. Comparing a 24-year-old prize winner debuting at the Proms with Pinchas Zuckerman seems a tad unfair, though.
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:
