Ode to Joy

BBC4 broadcast a performance of Beethoven's Ninth at the Proms tonight, one of my all time favourite pieces of music. Tonight they had subtitles for the choral movement. I am ashamed to say I had never read Schiller's Ode to Joy (the lyrics) before. What fantastic poetry! Woodstock for the 19th Century (though the ode was composed in the 18th)! Really beautiful, beautiful stuff. What struck me was the very modern view of God adopted. Not my strongest topic, but with its 'His suns' hurtling through space, and the egalitarian tone of the whole piece, it could be Olaf Stapledon's 'Starmaker' for all it matters. The combination of science and theology was surprising, yet still expansive. Of course the hope of the whole thing is more appropriate to Woodstock than the early 21st Century, but combined with Beethoven's glorious music, you just have to go along with it. Aye, there wasn't a dry eye in the house (well, my apartment anyhow)!
The performance, by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra and the City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus, was pretty fine too. I particularly liked how conductor Ilan Volkov brought some discipline to the occasionally lolling third movement (bizarre, but it reminded me just a little of Mahler at times). Not to say there's any sloppiness on Beethoven's part. The Ninth is still a summation of so much that went before Beethoven and a prefiguring of much that was to follow. And isn't it great how Beethoven does a little recap of the previous movements before bursting into that choral finale, movements that have hidden in each the germs of the final big theme!
A lot of people have criticised that last tune, and it is used everywhere now, but one of the commentators at the break, a composer no less, called it 'rubbish' while explaining how the symphony called for people to get together. Hmmmm! If it is 'rubbish', so be it, I still love it, but the truth is he's on the wrong track if he's calling for unity! You're messing with something really heartfelt to many, many listeners. And Beethoven knew what he was doing. He prefaces the choral movement with words to the effect that we've had enough unhappy sounds, let's have some joyful music now, and that's what it is; music everyone can enjoy. What's more if Beethoven didn't have faith in the power of that last melody, why use it as the base for all that has gone before. It's far from rubbish. It's something from above the canopy of stars, something from beyond....
Enough! I'll just creep tearfully away from this circle.

Darwin Just Didn't Get It Right!

I said 'Copying Beethoven' wasn't a date movie, but maybe I was wrong. The couple who sat down a seat away from me certainly seemed to think so. I kept wracking my brains trying to think if 'Farrelly Brothers' or 'Leonardo Di Caprio' had been mentioned on the poster, but I just couldn't remember seeing either. Well, these two had come prepared anyhow. They kept pulling bags of corn snacks from the air and letting the rest of us know about it. Ultimately they made a bad movie intolerable. I mean surely the clue was in the title, this was a movie about Beethoven, and as such, it might have a little music in it. In fact whether the movie was good or not, at least we could enjoy that music. Right? Nope. Crunching couple thought the music bits were the intermission. The centrepiece of the movie is a kind of highlights performance of the Ninth. I kid you not, they talked through the whole thing. Naturally, and inevitably, I had to shhh them, but to no avail. Why the Hell were they there? I mean why the Hell were they there? Anyone with even a couple of brain cells would suspect a little bit about the movie, yet they had no interest whatever. Darwin couldn't be right. How could genes like that still be floating around the 'survival of the fittest' pool? When abortions go wrong.

To be fair, the movie didn't warrant too much attention anyhow. Ed Harris , bizarre in brown contact lenses, and Diane Kruger, not just a pretty face, are not too bad. However, they are saddled with a director (and a screenplay), who feels the need to 'explain' the joy of music with shaky camera moves and hazy 'ecstatic' shots. Even that hoary old cliche of the closed eyed hand gestures gets a thorough outing. Music does not require an explanation, and certainly not that of Beethoven. You either get it or you don't. No half-assed music video with a bad line in spiritual mumbo jumbo (about God's language) is going to change that. Certainly it shouldn't be the raison d'etre for a fictionalised account of Beethoven's last year. One way or the other, if you are in the audience you have presumably 'gotten' Beethoven already. Presumably. Well, maybe not afterall.

I come to you now at the turning of the tide.

I have found the fatal flaw in "Mac in a Sac"; it's in a sac! Who in hell would be bothered taking it out? Yes, it rained earlier today. Still stayed reasonably warm, but it rained.

I got to the animation programme and it was better than yesterday. A very non-CGI, rather affecting though simple piece called "Printed Rainbow" got right back to the Canadian Film Board stuff and to end it all there was an animated biography of Norman McClaren. Very good stuff.

Even better, I bumped into a rather lovely Italian artist, Chiara. Unfortunately Spanish boyfriends are de rigeur for Italian ladies living in Edinburgh, but such is life. Anyhow she knew her Svankmajer from her Quay Brothers and we had a rather pleasant coffee. Coincidence upon coincidence she was my waitress last night.

I was going to say that the restaurants follow the example of the stage during festival time; always leave them hungry! But I think now I'd better not. One way or the other I definitely did have haggis today, and it was the dish i had had at breakfast and yes, i did like it. The tats and neeps were good too, but I could do with more of them next time, thank you very much Bad Ass Cafe! Lovely though, i will confess. Anyhow that was later, first I went to Beethoven.

Yes, I skipped the Vaughan Williams and tried Sir Charles MacKerras conducting Beethoven instead. Symphony Number Two! Let's face it folks, it's what we're on this planet to do, listen to Beethoven, that is (surely not, old chap!). Once upon a time I went to Boulez in Chicago unwisely eating a large meal beforehand. I nearly dozed unforgiveably off during Mahler's Ninth! This time around I was starving! And MacKerras did deliver. I thought he was a little on the romantic side, particularly on the second movement, reminding me of Schumann a little (but then Schumann symphonies were always wannabe Beethoven symphonies and none the worst for that). Anyhow it was great. Warm though! Didn't doze, but t'was warm. Also an ignorant philistine sneezed twice prompting me to want to throw myself over the balcony. I refrained. By the way, Mr MacKerras, next time when we clap enough to get you out three times, we want an encore!

I had dumped the mini monster, so was free. Dining on my haggis, starved still i went briefly to the Book Festival, after dinner lolly pop in mouth. Had a pleasant chat with home (good news) then went in search of entertainment. With a wealth of shows around me, I couldn't find anything until luckily I located one of the Fringe Festival offices on the Royal Mile. They put me wise to a daily guide published by The Guardian, so I booked "The Best of Scottish Comedy" in The Stand.

One should always be wary of "Best of's", but this time I was fortunate. I fell in with a motley crew from the Royal Bank of Scotland (well, they took my seat!) and got a hankering for Deuchars. Hell, if Hemingway, O'Hara and Fitzgerald can all write drunk why shouldn't I (and why do they always say Irish writers drink, they're all American!). Well, so I write now. Many Deuchars make Jack a happy camper. Anyhow to return to the comedy show! T'was brillig! A lesbian midget (her words, not mine, well some of them), was compere (Susan Calman; and you were great, girl!). The first guy from Dundee, Paul Pirie, was not bad at all ("You've a lovely head of blonde hair. Why do you dye your roots brown?" or "How long do London girls take to have a shit? 9 months." His words, not mine!) But the next guy, David Kay, was simply terrific. I don't know how far he'd travel as he is very Scottish, but as he said himself "We were under his spell! I could talk all night and you'd listen." I still don't quite understand why he was so funny (well, I could break it down if I wanted to, but i don't want to), but without any profanity, innuendo, in fact any of the standard arsenal, he was just hilarious. I could talk about the space shuttle and blue tack or the drummer from New Model Army hosting golf programmes, but unless he says it it won't make sense. Fabulous! The last guy, Bruce Morton, was quite good too, in a more traditional way. The rodeo position was excellent! (No, there are children present).

Anyhow I was ready for more and knew from the Fringe guide there was more comedy nearby. However, I left my guide behind so couldn't find it. I asked a bar girl clearing tables. I knew after her first answer she was Irish, but twice more enquiring I could only manage a "Good Luck". She didn't know where the place was. Anyhow as things began earlier, so it rained once more. So I thought I'd come back here and write this. Ain't you all lucky!