A different kind of listening

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with eight others. Ann and Paul were back in church after a highly enjoyable outing to Milan via Geneva and Montreux. They brought me back a bar of Swiss chocolate as thank you for informing them about the best way they could make use of their few days in the Suisse Romande!

I was glad to have an acupuncture appointment after lunch, after a couple of unpleasant and energy draining days. It certainly did me good, as I walked around Bute park and Pontcanna Fields for two hours before returning home. Clare and I had tickets for a guitar recital at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama in the evening. We missed the bus we were certain would get us to the town centre in good time, so we decided to walk there instead, as we did once before. It took us thirty five minutes - so I reckon I must have walked a good seven miles today, due to the acupuncture boost.

The recitalist was a young Frenchman, Gabriel Blanco. Our seats were several rows from the stage and we could hear every single note perfectly, thanks to the remarkable acoustic design of the Dora Stoutzker Hall. He played music from several 19th and 20th century composers, several of whom I'd never heard of - French, Italian, Argentinian. He devoted the first part of the second half to Bach's Chaconne in D minor, written originally for the violin, but transcribed for piano and guitar several times over the past 250 years.

I'm pretty sure I heard Andres Segovia play it in Bristol's Colston Hall in my teens. It was probably the longest solo piece of music I'd ever listened to at that time. I got to know it very well indeed as a student in Bristol subsequently, as my dear late friend Mike had a record of the violin version, which he played often. Hearing it after several decades took me right back to winter evenings in Churchill Hall, listening over a cup of tea, or while trying to write up and learn lecture notes. I remember the structure of the music far better than I remember the information I was trying to process at the time.

Gabriel Blanco's guitar technique was remarkable, but not just for the fluency and dexterity of his playing. The dynamic range of the sounds he produced, his use of silence, and above all the softness of his tone. The guitar, being a plucked instrument, produces a range of percussive sounds which can produce marvellous rhythms, and the act of plucking can add a sharp edge to the notes produced. A clear soft edged plucking sound brings a gentle lyricism to melody. I find that very special. On top of his notable repertoire of guitar music to engage with, this concert was a different kind of listening experience for me, having been a guitar player of sorts for over fifty years. Such a treat!

Opera weekend

Saturday morning, Clare cousin Nick and his wife Sue arrived to stay with us. They'd flown down from Edinburgh to Bristol and driven a hire car across. Sue's a musician, and some of her students are working or studying in Cardiff, but the real purpose of the outing was a trip to the opera, with an opportunity to hear one of her students playing in the WNO orchestra. They had tickets for Verdi's Forza del Destino, which we'll see in a couple of weeks from now. We booked tickets for the Sunday performance of 'Tosca', long before they made their plans. After a long lunch, they went into town to meet the students and then go to the opera.

They came long after we'd gone to bed. Clare and I were up early, and went to eight o'clock at St Catherine's together. I was booked to celebrate, and Clare, as she was there and handy to ask, read a lesson. Then we returned for a big late breakfast and heard that they'd so much enjoyed their night at the opera, Nick and Sue decided to make the most of the weekend and attempt a late booking for the performance of Tosca. They were successful in getting last minute seats, so we set out together in good time. Their seats were in the Upper Circle and ours were in the middle of the front row within touching distance of the conductor.

After breakfast, despite the cold wind, we walked into town and then up to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, which Sue was keen to see. Her former student was busy in rehearsal, so couldn't meet us there, but Sue was suitably impressed with the marvellous building. It's only twenty minutes or so across the fields from there back home. Crossing Blackweir Bridge I was relieved to see that the fallen tree was no longer stuck at the top of the weir, but had been washed by a fresh spate of upstream water about a hundred meters further down, where it would cause less trouble. We didn't stop long to look, as the wind was merciless, and we were in need of warming up with a good lunch, before heading out to the Millennium Centre for a four o'clock start.

I think this is the third time I've seen this particular production since we've been back in Cardiff. As ever the singers and orchestra were marvellous. I don't think Nick and Sue were disappointed. After the performance they took us to an Italian restaurant nearby for supper. After that brisk 7k walk and an intense musical experience followed by pasta, were all ready for bed. A delightful weekend.