Another Prom

It feels like it's been a very full week. Normally I find that work and the daily necessities of life take up most of my time and even more of my energy outside the weekend, but this week has been different.

On Tuesday I headed into London promptly after work for a long-scheduled meeting which turned out to be a pleasant meal and pleasanter chat. I am reminded often these days of the pleasures of intelligent conversation without the old consciousness of whole areas of my thoughts which were out of bounds.

The next night I caught a train for London again to get my second experience of a Prom. It felt a bit ambitious having two nights out in a row, but in this case, having been offered tickets free, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. That's a great benefit of having a friend in the management of an orchestra.

It all felt very different this time around, and I'm not really sure how much of that is because it was different, and how much because of changes in me over the last year. There was, on the whole, less of a sense of occasion. Partly because it is now something I've done before, and partly because this Prom was undersubscribed whereas the previous one was a hot ticket. They can't all be blockbusters. The orchestra is respected rather than legendary, and the programme was not the kind which brings audiences flocking, it seems. However, I enjoyed it very much and, in a way that doesn't happen too often, actually caught myself consciously enjoying it at the time. Typically, I find, happiness is retrospective, and asking whether a particular moment is a happy one is a good way of spoiling it, but this time was an exception. Last time I felt like something of an alien intruder, but this one felt very natural. That must be me, as I doubt the audience at the Royal Albert Hall has changed significantly apart from being a little thinner on the ground.

I was there for the Ravel, principally, although as it was a twentieth-century selection I was interested in the rest of it too. The music turned out to be all interesting, but variably enjoyable, with the first half of each half (I'm not sure of my terminology here) seeming more like soundscapes than music, a little like having a movie with no visuals. Reading the programme gave a good clue to what was intended in each piece, and they accomplished it in each case, but it was easier to admire that achievement than be transported by the process. At least I found the visual side less distracting this time. I rather enjoy watching the musicians, some cultivating a slightly bored look while others play the animated eccentric, throwing themselves around as they play. Again, like before, the conductor seemed to be in his own time frame compared to the orchestra, but this time the orchestra didn't actually seem to even take much notice. In the initial pieces (admittedly rather abstract in nature), I could barely detect any connection between his movements and the resulting music, and certainly there was no clue as to the beat or timing. Very odd. They paid more attention to the conductor during the performance of the piece he'd written himself, and gave as good an impression of a thunderstorm as people with musical instruments could.

During the interval we were allowed into the musicians' area beneath and behind the stage, and even ventured just onto the stage itself. That was a novel perspective, definitely. I like the way that the business area even of a big important event like a Prom is always slightly rough-and-ready, and particularly enjoyed the sheet of paper taped to one door saying in large letters "Do not open this door, it squeaks". As it led directly to the stage, I could see the problem.

After the interval, a few of the empty seats near us filled up, and the woman in front of me looked very familiar. After a few minutes I realised why. She was the violin soloist from the first half, looking a little less glamorous close up and a whole lot less animated. I couldn't help glancing at her from time to time, wondering what it could be like to be listening when she had been the focus of all the listening only a short while earlier. I can't say she gave much away.

The final part of the experience this time round was a trip into the bowels of the building down a fire escape to the car park, where a huge door that reminded me of a Bond movie or something let us out into the night. Hitching a ride with part of the orchestra also gave a fascinating light on the previous hours.

So I suppose this week has added a fair bit to my store of new experiences and I'm thankful for that. Although tired, as I say.