Musical Lear

That is to say, Schubert's last three piano sonatas; D.958, D.959 and D.960. Bit unsure whether we were up for three big sonatas in one sitting, but on the basis that there two intervals, and so two opportunities for breaking out early, decided to give it a go. The occasion being Imogen Cooper's 70th birthday concert. I think it might have been her saying that this musical version of Lear seemed right for the occasion.

I had thought that we had done such a thing before, but search of the record suggests not. Three big Beethoven sonatas or three Schubert sonatas - but not these three.

Once again, arrived Epsom station to find young people busy around all the ticket machines, but two ticket clerks sitting behind their windows doing nothing much. The window we used was curiously speckled, as if someone had taken a shotgun to it, but the clerk assured us that this was not the case, rather that there was something wrong with this particular piece of glass, presumably some kind of fancy laminate to protect the clerks against attack.

A slightly earlier start than usual, which may have accounted for the Vauxhall tube concourse area being very crowded - but at least it was a crowd that was moving, and we got onto a train fast enough. But one doesn't like to think what it might get like if the down escalator were to break down and we were all reduced to walking. Oxford Circus also busy, with a great throng of people trying to get down the tube entrance outside Niketown, slowing us down as we tried to head north up Regent Street. But we made it and, given that it was dark, that Cavendish Square would have shut and that there was only one bench outside the square, we decided to take our picnic on the (empty) tables and chairs provided outside the Finery of Great Castle Street, a house I have probably used, but probably not more than one or two times. On the other hand, I have paid my dues with the owner, Greene King, so our picnic was not that out of order. And, as it turned out, the one bench on the square was occupied.

Further refreshment in the Beckstein Room, where we were sat next to a couple of much the same age as ourselves, with an even more organised picnic than ours, complete with very dinky little individual coffee pots, more or less designed for the job. BH tells me they are all the rage with those taking coffee out of places like Starbucks.

More or less full when we got into the hall; middle to pensionable age, arty looking lot. Radio 3 present but Fiona from St. Luke's was absent and we had a rather less florid replacement. Furthermore, much less intrusion into the concert generally.

In the event, we stayed the distance, with Cooper doing very well, after what I thought was a rather loud start. She played without music and the form seemed to be that, naturally enough, when the fingering was tricky she looked down at the keyboard, while when the timing was tricky she looked up at the ceiling and concentrated on that. I wondered whether it was partly an age thing: playing from memory meant that one could concentrate on playing, without the additional overhead of watching the music on the page. And while I am not in the same league, I am finding that with advancing years my four-finger-two thumb-typing is getting less reliable and it does sometimes work better if I look down at the keys rather than up at the screen. I never was much good at copy typing where there are three things to look at - but luckily there is not much call for that.

In the margins, we heard a funny story, perhaps a little out of date, it being a few days ago now. It seems that it was 2092 and this lady had just come back from Brussels. She had been going along the Rue de la Loi, where the big European Commission buildings are to be found, when she saw this little crowd of tourists. In the middle there was an older man in Eton suit and top hat, a funny looking chap, kneeling on a fancy stool, attended by a flunkey in fancy dress, posting an important looking letter through a complicated letter box. She thought she saw him doing the Masonic Triple Knock on the door. She asked what was going on and she was told it was the ceremony of the extension. No-one could remember what it was about, but it happened on the first day of each month, weather permitting, November, December and January, each year. A bit of nonsense to liven up the festive season, to pull in a few more tourists in the slack season.

Otherwise, the audience was very enthusiastic at the end, as indeed we were, if a bit wrung out. Cooper too. The director presented the bouquet and visitors backstage were banned - although presumably those with proper invitations were allowed.

Just missed a train to Epsom at Vauxhall so tried for Motspur Park instead. Maybe one could take a beverage there without incurring the long flight of stairs that you get at Earlsfield. In the event, one did get a footbridge, so we sat it out in this rather forlorn station. We looked at the long shut hatch with nostalgia for the days when one would have been able to buy fags and papers from such a hatch. When the station probably had waiting room, toilets and planters with flowers. Whereas on this occasion, everything was shut up and the roof was leaking, fortunately not where we were wanting to sit.

But a splendid outing otherwise.

PS: the concert was repeated on the radio on the Thursday evening following and while the sound from our not very new television was a lot better than one might have expected, the magic was missing and we abandoned ship after half an hour. Magic which had not been dimmed on the day by my having done some homework on D.958 before the concert proper, so repetition was probably not the problem.