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:
Jilly is listed as having joined me for this one. Her work telephone number is strategically placed in my diary on the preceding day, so she might struggle to deny this one.
I’m not entirely sure why I chose it other than the fact that I was certainly into Richard Strauss and Sibelius at that time, so two pieces by those dudes that I hadn’t heard live before probably sealed the deal. It might have been Jilly saying “you’ve GOT to see this Heinz Holliger fellow”, as that was the sort of thing that Jilly would say.
No doubt about it – Bobbie joined me for this one. She was keen to see the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under the auspices of the great Czech conductor Libor Pešek. I was keen to see how he would deal with one of my favourite works, Smetana’s Má Vlast.
Strangely, although the national papers promoted this concert widely in advance, none chose to review it by the looks of it. Typical.
Here’s one of the sea interludes performed by the very outfit we saw:
Here’s Stephen Hough with the BBC Symphony from the first night of the Proms 2013 with the Rachmaninov Paganini:
Here’s Libor Pesek and The Royal Liverpool mob playing their four movements of Ma Vlast in Libor Prom order:
Alternatively, if you want to hear that recording in full in Smetana sequence, I have made it available on this playlist – click here. Do not be put off if you see a seemingly erased link – you can hear it whether or not you have a YouTube Music account – you just get adverts of you don’t.
In truth I couldn’t bring to mind Skocná – Dance of the Comedians, but James Levine & the Vienna lot brought it all back to me:
I’m really not at all sure that Entry of the Gladiators belonged with this concert, but that’s what they did. The piece was originally written as a serious piece of military marching music, although how anyone with that moustache composing that piece expected to be taken seriously, even back then, I cannot imagine.
On reflection, I think the use of that piece as a second encore was a mistake. When Libor Pesek suggested that they play a second encore, one of the scouse musicians loudly expressed his discontent with the traditional local expletive, but unfortunately Pesek thought the fellow said:
“Everyone drives on the pavement in Rio de Janeiro” – picture produced in collaboration with DALL-E
We headed up to Oxford late afternoon Friday for an unforgettable 24 hours or so, centred around a superb concert of Handel performed by The Sixteen Choir and Orchestra under Harry Christophers.
When I say “we”, I mean “me and my workmates. This was my first of several Music At Oxford experiences with BDO Binder Hamlyn Management Consultants (as it was called at that time). In fact, I think this concert was the first that Binders sponsored and that Music At Oxford thereafter became a bit of a Binders fixture for several years.
I was thrilled and impressed when I discovered that my firm was sponsoring this concert. I had discovered The Sixteen a couple of years earlier by hearing their recordings broadcast on Radio 3 and had found their sound mighty impressive.
Even now, writing in February 2019, nearly 30 years after the event, Janie and I still consider The Sixteen to be one of the very best early music choir/orchestras we have ever heard – indeed we have booked to see them again at The Wigmore Hall quite soon. It’s been a while – can hardly wait.
Harry Christophers in 2012, from Wikimedia Commons
But back in 1989 I had not yet seen The Sixteen live and/but it transpired that pretty much nobody at work had heard of them at all, so I was designated to be the in-house expert to whom inquisitive clients attending the concert might be sent for more information…
…in true management consultancy style, my having heard the performers a couple of times on the radio became, shamelessly, “recent, relevant experience”, enabling me to advise the clients about all matters Sixteen, Handel and indeed Early Music generally. I should have charged fees.
I remember the Friday afternoon, especially the journey to Oxford, very clearly. I spent the day at the office. As I still hadn’t passed my driving test, William Casey, the managing partner of the consultancy, offered to take me with him from the office to Oxford. I suspect that part of his purpose was to suck what little I knew about the music and the performers from my brain, so he could say something vaguely meaningful to clients.
Of course, we ended up leaving Faringdon Within later than intended and of course the Friday afternoon traffic between London and Oxford in early July was pretty heavy.
I discovered that the seemingly unflappable William Casey was as flappable as the rest of us when under time pressure, as we really did need to get to the Randolph Hotel, get changed into our fancy-pants clobber and be at the Sheldonian Theatre in good time to meet and greet guests.
Once we got away from the main London traffic it seemed we still had plenty of time. William and I chatted about various things, including life aspirations (mostly his) and William’s prior experience living and working in Brazil.
But I don’t think William had accounted for the dreadful traffic into Oxford on a Friday. 1989 was pre-M40 beyond Oxford, of course, so a fair bit more local traffic needed to use the narrow roads around and through Oxford in those days. So the stress levels started to rise again once the A40 into Oxford became a traffic jam.
At one point, William cut off a rather jammed up corner by driving up onto the pavement and jumping the traffic queue at the turning. Probably spotting my disquiet at that manoeuvre (which had not come up in any of my driving lessons) William exclaimed…
…everyone drives on the pavement in Rio de Janeiro!…
…which is the most memorable single thing that William ever said to me.
Of course, it was all a bit of a rush once we got to Oxford. Of course, we weren’t really late – just a little later than intended – so we were able to do the meet and greet thing before the concert…
…which is just as well, because we really were the sponsors – look at this page from the festival brochure:
Within a few months, we had changed our name to BDO Consulting; the first of several subtle name changes in the five-and-a-half years I was at the firm.
The concert was lovely and the Sheldonian Theatre is a superb setting for baroque music.
First up, the small scale but very beautiful Nisi Dominus, a recording of which, by The Sixteen, recorded just a few months after our concert, is (at the time of writing) available for all to hear:
Next up was the Lord Is My Light – Chandos Anthem No 10. Currently a recording of this one by The Sixteen is also available for you to hear:
Then the interval, which we spent hoity-toitying with our client guests in the Bodleian Library:
Well Posh
The invite doesn’t use the term hoity-toitying but you can take my word for it, that’s what we did.
I cannot remember in detail who was there that evening. All of the consultancy partners and a great many of my immediate colleagues for sure. Possibly some of the accountancy partners too, although I have a feeling that this first sponsorship was very much a consultancy affair and that it was in future years that the sponsorship widened out to Binder Hamlyn more generally. Michael Mainelli might well remember and fill in some juicy details.
I don’t think I needed to attend to my own main clients that year – I don’t think they attended. But I had been involved to some small extent with several of the firms clients by then, so had a fair smattering of people I knew as well as the general entreaty to “walk the room”, be the designated in-house early music expert and pretend to look intelligent…or whatever.
The second half of the concert was the wonderful Handel Dixit Dominus. I cannot find The Sixteen recording on line, but there is a fine live performance under John Elliot Gardiner which you might enjoy enormously:
My log reminds me how I felt about the evening and what happened next:
Superb evening. Ended up back at the Randolph Hotel sing-songing with the clients etc.
I am trying to remember who the main ringleaders of the sing-songing were; my memory fixes on Jim Arnott, Dom Henry and Richard Sealey in particular, but I might be mixing up this event with another event or two. Again, Michael might remember these informal details more specifically than me. I’m pretty sure Michael also partook of the sing-songing.
I don’t think we were sing-songing Handel at all – I suspect our singing was more of the Hotel California/American Pie/Streets Of London variety.
I do remember that we went on singing and partying into the early hours of the morning.
I don’t remember how I got home – I think I took the train from Oxford to Paddington for the return journey.
For sure I was back in London for an evening of Theatre at the National – that’s another story for another Ogblog…
But for sure this first Binders/Music At Oxford event, in 1989, especially the thrill of seeing The Sixteen at the Sheldonian, was one of my most memorable and enjoyable work-related cultural experiences.
I don’t have great memories of seeing this opera, but I think my memories of it are more closely linked to my general mood that weekend than to any intrinsic issue with the opera/production…
…other than to say that this experience probably helped to kick off the view, which has become a prevailing one, that opera ain’t me.
Bobbie was there for this one, as was Ashley Fletcher – yes, my memory definitely serves me correctly for this one, as the diary makes clear that Ashley was down for the weekend and stayed in the tower – i.e. the annex to my flat in Clanricarde Gardens – so named, by Ashley, as he felt that the place would be suitable for the detention of a mad and/or elderly relative. That annex now serves as my office – renamed the ivory tower – a more liberal purpose and name.
…a few days before I wrote up this piece, about Don Giovanni.
Postscript after seeing Ashley in April 2019: Ashley has no recollection of that weekend. So we must rely on Bobbie’s memory that I was tripping out on tiredness and rather freaked at the thought of going out to get some additional soap, as there was none for Ashley in the shower of the tower. If I really did say words to the effect:
I did not envisage this weekend as a soap buying weekend…
…that would have to be up there amongst my most autistic utterances ever. I have a dreadful feeling that Bobbie’e memory is going to be bang on regarding that point.
Aspden on McCartney Mon, Jan 15, 1990 – 38 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
