The New York Times has a piece today on a short video over on YouTube in which Pachelbel’s Canon is played with extraordinary virtuosity on an electric guitar by a complete unknown called, Jeong-Hyun Lim.

“The piece that funtwo played with mounting dexterity was an exceedingly difficult rock arrangement of Pachelbel’s Canon, the composition from the turn of the 18th century known for its solemn chord progressions and its overexposure at weddings. But this arrangement, attributed on another title card to JerryC, was anything but plodding: it required high-level mastery of a singularly demanding maneuver called sweep-picking.

“Over and over the guitarist’s left hand articulated strings with barely perceptible movements, sounding and muting notes almost simultaneously, and playing complete arpeggios through a single stroke with his right hand. Funtwo’s accuracy and velocity seemed record-breaking, but his mouth and jawline — to the extent that they were visible — looked impassive, with none of the exaggerated grimaces of heavy metal guitar heroes. The contrast between the soaring bravado of the undertaking and the reticence of the guitarist gave the 5-minute, 20-second video a gorgeous solemnity.”

Hear it on The Blog Herald.

A Film by Ken Russell

Watching Ken Russell’s film about Delius with the most beautiful woman in the world the other weekend I was again amazed at its effectiveness at conveying a period - the 1930s - and of the composer, who was an enigma unto himself, and a complete mystery to the rest of us.

And I say that as a man who has written and directed a play about Delius, and his meeting with Elgar in 1934, but who nevertheless felt he’d only scratched the surface of one of England’s greatest composers, a composer who often denied his Englishness anyway, living outside the country all of his adult life, yet nonetheless sometimes considered himself a Yorkshireman but never a German, and he was both, but of wholly German parentage; and perhaps within that lies the mystery which his beautiful music adds to because it is itself a mystery in that it doesn’t seem to belong anywhere geographical, but everywhere emotionally - and emotion in music is an important but often dangerous thing.

The film, made for the BBC in 1968, is a small masterpiece that really does make you think you are in the claustrophobic Delius household, and sometimes within the claustrophobic mind of the composer who, because of his paralysis and blindness is now unable to compose, a condition the young Yorkshireman, Eric Fenby ( a charming man I had the honour to meet in the early 1990s), reads about in the press, which results in his travelling to France to try and help Delius with some unfinished scores.

And at the heart of this remarkable film is the tortuous journey that Fenby and Delius have to make before they discover not only trust, but a practical way in which they can work together that allows Delius to express himself and Fenby to get it all down. These scenes are the most moving in the whole film as Delius calls out the notation and for which instrument or groups of instruments the notation is for. And as the two men work, initially in a frenzy of misunderstanding ( Delius was taught German notation in Leipzig which confuses Fenby), which slowly becomes an understanding of intent, we begin to hear the music and watch as Delius hears it to in his head. It is great emotional cinema that matches the emotion of the music superbly well.

The performance of Max Adrian as Delius is remarkable, as are those of Maureen Pryor as his wife Jelka, and Christopher Gable as Fenby.

It was also good to see again the old bath-chair the BBC allowed me to use for my own play about Delius, a creaking old thing from the 1910s that had been gathering dust in the BBC props warehouse in Birmingham.

The film is based on Eric Fenby’s book Delius As I Knew Him, which I think is still available from Faber & Faber, with the video of the film available from BBC Films. Get it, it’s worth every minute.

Steve Newman

A British newspaper, The Mail on Sunday, has listed the top ten opera albums “you must own”, as compiled by Eugene Costello.

Apart from #1, there’s no indication of the version or artists involved, so it’s a rather thin exercise. Nevertheless, for what it’s worth here is the list, with my own modifications:

1. The Ring Wagner. Version: Sir Georg Solti [Excellent choice]
2. La Traviata Verdi.
3. La Boheme Puccini.
4. Madame Butterfly Puccini.
5. Carmen Bizet.
6. Don Giovanni Mozart.
7. Peter Grimes Britten.
8. The Barber of Seville Rossini.
9. The Marriage of Figaro Mozart.
10. Rigoletto Verdi.

Well, there you have it, a goodly list. But I would leave out Peter Grimes and The Barber of Seville and promote Tosca by Puccini, and Fidelio by Beethoven.

But, above all, I would include my favourite opera of all: Wagner’s Parsival, which, in my view, tops anything in range, except maybe Puccini at his very best.

And I would also find room for Richard Strauss’s masterpiece, Der Rosenkavalier, which rather makes a mess of Costello’s efforts.

It’s all a matter of taste, of course. What’s your top ten operas?

Driving through the Welsh mountains this last weekend with the most beautiful woman in the world, and listening to a Jon Lord CD, I began to think about which genre of music Jon Lord belongs, or should belong, if he belongs anywhere at all.

The CD in question is Pictured Within and was recorded and released back in 1998, and on first hearing might be considered to be a rock album for no other reason than Jon Lord was, is, the keyboard player with Deep Purple. But on second and third hearing, and in my case 40th hearing, the very personal music of Jon Lord can only sit within the classical category for the very simple reason that it uses all the musical ammunition available to the classical composer thereby creating a depth of emotional feeling that today is only found, for instance, in the work of such contemporary composers as John Tavener ( most obviously in The Protecting Veil), and John Adams, whose haunting piece, Harmonium, is probably, for such musicians as Jon Lord, a hugely influential source of creative possibilities.

Pictured Within uses a very simple format of piano, solo cello (very Tavener), solo violin and voice, backed by a small orchestra consisting of a handful of strings, a couple of French horns and a soprano saxophone. What Lord creates out of this small gathering is a huge earth shattering sound ( most notably in the title piece) that at other times, in the pieces ‘Mountain - sunset’, and ‘A Different Sky’, are also little more than whispers.

As with the aforementioned Tavener and Adams Jon Lord proves the point that contemporary music can be accessible and inclusive.

Buy Pictured Within by Jon Lord.

Steve Newman