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:
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:
Judging from the notes in my diary, I was spending most of my working days late August and early September in Kenton, doing stuff for Laurie Krieger’s various enterprises, about which I have written a little elsewhere on Ogblog and no doubt will write more in the fulness of time.
As luck would have it, I was asked to return to the office that Thursday afternoon for the rest of the week. Luck, because Jilly, whom I had arranged to meet that evening, got a sudden compulsion to leg it over to the Royal Albert Hall to see the prom that night, as Claudio Abbado was to conduct the London Symphony Orchestra.
It’s Claudio Abbado. he’s the greatest. We’ve got to see him. We might never get another chance…
I was less sure than Jilly about this at the time. She was a budding music student of course, whereas I was still on the low foothills of appreciating classical music.
Ludwig van Beethoven, Piano Concerto No 5 in E flat major, ‘Emperor’
Hector Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique.
Indeed, I even owned a recording of the Fantastique.
I remember queuing for quite a long time. I don’t remember whether we enjoyed this concert from the arena or the gallery. My guess is that it was the gallery as I don’t think we could have got there early enough to get in to the arena, but perhaps in those days “after work arrival” was good enough for the arena.
Of course it was very good indeed. Of course Jilly was right – I can now always say that I saw Claudio Abbado conduct.
Feeling envious that you didn’t hear the concert? Wondering whether you remember what orchestras and soloists (Emmanuel Ax on the piano for the Emperor Concerto) sounded like live under Abbado?
Fret no more. A website named pastdaily.com uploaded the recording of this concert as a tribute when Abbado died in 2014. Embedded below.
Conlon Prom Henderson Telegraph 31 Aug 1990, Fri The Daily Telegraph (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
Conlan Prom Greenfield Guardian 31 Aug 1990, Fri The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
_krijgt_AVROs_publieksprijs_Klassiek_81_Claudio_Abbad,_Bestanddeelnr_932-2754.jpg){kind=link}