I'm thinking of good vibrato
Nov. 25th, 2004 12:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ventaLast night: the usual post-work pre-gig hurtle into London.
So, the plan last night was quite simple. Park my car at ChrisC's, hop on a tube. The underground is overground[*] at this point, so I was to send him an sms before the underground became underground, signalling that he should leave work and get tubing to meet me at Knightsbridge. Which would have been fine, had not the thing that reminded me I should be sending an sms been the train entering a tunnel.
Never mind, I thought, I'll head up to the surface at Green Park when I change and send a message. But by Green Park time was starting to look tight (will someone please drag London west up the M4 a bit ?), the station was in disarray as the Jubilee line had just broken, and I'd remembered that, since I was using Oyster pay-as-you-go, I'd end up getting charged for two journeys instead of one if I broke the surface.
Hurrying worriedly along The Tunnel, I was musing that surely mobiles not working on the underground was a common problem ? Why had no one solved it, by putting transmitters at some points ? Even, I thought, special places where you could go to make calls, or even phones you could use... and hey, would you believe, they have ? In Green Park, they've installed these really funky things - they're just like mobiles, except they're fixed to the wall, and a little larger, with the receiver and keypad separate. You have to put some coins in a slot, but other than that they seem to work just fine.
Despite this, and despite some hurrying up Knightsbridge, we were slightly late to the Albert Hall. A tip: if you ask a member of the London Underground staff how many exits there are from Knightsbridge station, and they assure you there is only the one you are standing at, do not believe them.
Now, concerts such as the Royal Philharmonic playing Rock classics belong, in my opinion, in that rather sniffily-defined region of "not really my thing". However, if someone is offering me free tickets I'll go and listen to pretty much anything and expect to enjoy it. Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nalsa for donating to me the tickets he couldn't use on account of being at the wrong end of the country.
Shortly after arriving, I suddenly remembered a hefty part of my youth spent sitting in the dining room, doing my homework, with Hooked On Classics on the record player. Which, on reflection, I must listen to again when I'm home for Christmas. With that thought, I realised I had no right to grumble about an orchestra playing rock :)
My first impression, as I sat down (right at the front of the arena!), was that the Royal Philharmonic didn't sound like an orchestra. I looked at them. They looked like an orchestra. But... but... a little thought tracked down the problem. The orchestra was miked up (I've never encountered this before), and I was sitting directly in front of a speaker - as a result the music I could hear was all issuing from one point rather than from all over the orchestra. This made it sound rather as if I were listening to a recording, not a live performance.
However, that aside, the concert progressed in a most civilised manner. Some Scots dude, whose voice I recognise from radio (2?) trotted on stage every so often to waffle a bit about the pieces played, and provide random trivia. An octet of singers popped up from behind the orchestra occasionally to lend vocals, and buried somewhere in the orchestra was an electric guitar.
The music was... well, varied. The quality of the playing was high, of course, but the problems lay in the arrangements. Some of the pieces just worked incredibly well, others just didn't seem to suit the medium. Some pieces are just too simplistic to really suit a full orchestral arrangement.
Bat Out Of Hell, predictably, sounded great - after all Steinman always produces songs which sound as if they were intended for a 120-strong orchestra. On the other hand, what might have been expected as the piece de resistance, Bohemian Rhapsody sounded a little weak. The original is already sufficiently epic in scale that the orchestral version came out as a slightly dreary more-of-the-same rendition. Mind you, judging by the applause, that was just my opinion :)
Good Vibrations came with a fantastically polyphonic[**] take on the Beach Boys' backing vocals, and a swinging middle eight that made me smile. Actually, quite a lot of parts made me laugh, sometimes even intentionally. During the acoustic guitar opening of Wonderwall I paused to consider what instrument I'd choose to represent Gallagher's horrendously whiny voice, and had just decided on viola when the solo viola kicked in. I'd just got over that when the trombone took over, and, hamming up the sliding, produced a very creditable impression of a nasal nyah-ing singer. I got the giggles.
Some songs seemed to vary a lot depending on the nature of the song. The long, brooding intro to Livin' On A Prayer sounded amazing, but once the "vocal" kicked in, it sounded merely clichéd. A beautiful, fragile duet between the leaders of the first and second violins in Stairway To Heaven was utterly delightful, until it gave way to a really heavy handed woodwind section.
One serious gripe I would raise was the ubiquitous presence of the drumkit. The ordinary kitchen department had three chaps scurrying around playing tuned and untuned percussion, looking (as percussionists always do) as if they're having a whale of a time - and who can blame them, their entire job is hitting things with sticks to make cool noises. But a standard rock drummer had also been installed, and in some pieces that really jarred.
Overall, though, I thoroughly enjoyed my evening (and will accordingly be makingnalsa my Designated Hero of the Week). Even the pieces I'm criticising in various ways had a satisfyingly sold and epic feel, with an overall atmosphere of good, clean fun. The Royal Phil are a talented bunch, and gave the impression that most of them were really enjoying playing Rawk for a change. I certainly don't expect quite that much boogying among the first violins in the ordinary run of things :)
It amused me to note that the Royal Philharmonic seems to follow the pattern of orchestras everywhere, by keeping all the reprobates in the brass section. I'm not sure whether it's cause or effect, but if you ever see an orchestra member sniggering, chatting, or generally pissing about, it will be the bass end of the brass section. Maybe it's something to do with passing the time in those interminable 186-bar-rests that constantly afflict brass and woodwind sections. When Wonderwall required only a subset of the orchestra most laid down their instruments and sat quietly. The tuba and a couple of trombones screeched quickly out of a side door - I'd lay folding money that they were heading to the bar to get the beers in.
I've never been in the Albert Hall before - and indeed, my overriding association with it is of my mother describing it as having "the acoustics of a tin bucket". It's an impressive building, both inside and out. I'm a huge fan of round buildings, and the sheer amount of open space inside is quite staggering. I'm not convinced about the weird round bobbly things on the ceiling, though - I assume they're there for acoustic purposes, but they really don't fit with the decor.
Oh, and the best bit - by being 15 minutes late, we managed to miss Candle In The Wind. Result!
--
[*] And, according to certain seditious sources, wombling free.
[**] Anyone mentioning ringtones will be shot at dawn every morning for a week, then instructed to listen to Tallis.
So, the plan last night was quite simple. Park my car at ChrisC's, hop on a tube. The underground is overground[*] at this point, so I was to send him an sms before the underground became underground, signalling that he should leave work and get tubing to meet me at Knightsbridge. Which would have been fine, had not the thing that reminded me I should be sending an sms been the train entering a tunnel.
Never mind, I thought, I'll head up to the surface at Green Park when I change and send a message. But by Green Park time was starting to look tight (will someone please drag London west up the M4 a bit ?), the station was in disarray as the Jubilee line had just broken, and I'd remembered that, since I was using Oyster pay-as-you-go, I'd end up getting charged for two journeys instead of one if I broke the surface.
Hurrying worriedly along The Tunnel, I was musing that surely mobiles not working on the underground was a common problem ? Why had no one solved it, by putting transmitters at some points ? Even, I thought, special places where you could go to make calls, or even phones you could use... and hey, would you believe, they have ? In Green Park, they've installed these really funky things - they're just like mobiles, except they're fixed to the wall, and a little larger, with the receiver and keypad separate. You have to put some coins in a slot, but other than that they seem to work just fine.
Despite this, and despite some hurrying up Knightsbridge, we were slightly late to the Albert Hall. A tip: if you ask a member of the London Underground staff how many exits there are from Knightsbridge station, and they assure you there is only the one you are standing at, do not believe them.
Now, concerts such as the Royal Philharmonic playing Rock classics belong, in my opinion, in that rather sniffily-defined region of "not really my thing". However, if someone is offering me free tickets I'll go and listen to pretty much anything and expect to enjoy it. Many, many thanks to
nalsa for donating to me the tickets he couldn't use on account of being at the wrong end of the country.Shortly after arriving, I suddenly remembered a hefty part of my youth spent sitting in the dining room, doing my homework, with Hooked On Classics on the record player. Which, on reflection, I must listen to again when I'm home for Christmas. With that thought, I realised I had no right to grumble about an orchestra playing rock :)
My first impression, as I sat down (right at the front of the arena!), was that the Royal Philharmonic didn't sound like an orchestra. I looked at them. They looked like an orchestra. But... but... a little thought tracked down the problem. The orchestra was miked up (I've never encountered this before), and I was sitting directly in front of a speaker - as a result the music I could hear was all issuing from one point rather than from all over the orchestra. This made it sound rather as if I were listening to a recording, not a live performance.
However, that aside, the concert progressed in a most civilised manner. Some Scots dude, whose voice I recognise from radio (2?) trotted on stage every so often to waffle a bit about the pieces played, and provide random trivia. An octet of singers popped up from behind the orchestra occasionally to lend vocals, and buried somewhere in the orchestra was an electric guitar.
The music was... well, varied. The quality of the playing was high, of course, but the problems lay in the arrangements. Some of the pieces just worked incredibly well, others just didn't seem to suit the medium. Some pieces are just too simplistic to really suit a full orchestral arrangement.
Bat Out Of Hell, predictably, sounded great - after all Steinman always produces songs which sound as if they were intended for a 120-strong orchestra. On the other hand, what might have been expected as the piece de resistance, Bohemian Rhapsody sounded a little weak. The original is already sufficiently epic in scale that the orchestral version came out as a slightly dreary more-of-the-same rendition. Mind you, judging by the applause, that was just my opinion :)
Good Vibrations came with a fantastically polyphonic[**] take on the Beach Boys' backing vocals, and a swinging middle eight that made me smile. Actually, quite a lot of parts made me laugh, sometimes even intentionally. During the acoustic guitar opening of Wonderwall I paused to consider what instrument I'd choose to represent Gallagher's horrendously whiny voice, and had just decided on viola when the solo viola kicked in. I'd just got over that when the trombone took over, and, hamming up the sliding, produced a very creditable impression of a nasal nyah-ing singer. I got the giggles.
Some songs seemed to vary a lot depending on the nature of the song. The long, brooding intro to Livin' On A Prayer sounded amazing, but once the "vocal" kicked in, it sounded merely clichéd. A beautiful, fragile duet between the leaders of the first and second violins in Stairway To Heaven was utterly delightful, until it gave way to a really heavy handed woodwind section.
One serious gripe I would raise was the ubiquitous presence of the drumkit. The ordinary kitchen department had three chaps scurrying around playing tuned and untuned percussion, looking (as percussionists always do) as if they're having a whale of a time - and who can blame them, their entire job is hitting things with sticks to make cool noises. But a standard rock drummer had also been installed, and in some pieces that really jarred.
Overall, though, I thoroughly enjoyed my evening (and will accordingly be making
nalsa my Designated Hero of the Week). Even the pieces I'm criticising in various ways had a satisfyingly sold and epic feel, with an overall atmosphere of good, clean fun. The Royal Phil are a talented bunch, and gave the impression that most of them were really enjoying playing Rawk for a change. I certainly don't expect quite that much boogying among the first violins in the ordinary run of things :)It amused me to note that the Royal Philharmonic seems to follow the pattern of orchestras everywhere, by keeping all the reprobates in the brass section. I'm not sure whether it's cause or effect, but if you ever see an orchestra member sniggering, chatting, or generally pissing about, it will be the bass end of the brass section. Maybe it's something to do with passing the time in those interminable 186-bar-rests that constantly afflict brass and woodwind sections. When Wonderwall required only a subset of the orchestra most laid down their instruments and sat quietly. The tuba and a couple of trombones screeched quickly out of a side door - I'd lay folding money that they were heading to the bar to get the beers in.
I've never been in the Albert Hall before - and indeed, my overriding association with it is of my mother describing it as having "the acoustics of a tin bucket". It's an impressive building, both inside and out. I'm a huge fan of round buildings, and the sheer amount of open space inside is quite staggering. I'm not convinced about the weird round bobbly things on the ceiling, though - I assume they're there for acoustic purposes, but they really don't fit with the decor.
Oh, and the best bit - by being 15 minutes late, we managed to miss Candle In The Wind. Result!
--
[*] And, according to certain seditious sources, wombling free.
[**] Anyone mentioning ringtones will be shot at dawn every morning for a week, then instructed to listen to Tallis.
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Steinman is a Rock God!
Date: 2004-11-25 04:51 am (UTC)The original version is on the Pandora's Box album, a four girl group put together by Steinman, who, to my regret, only released the one album (which he wrote).
The intro to IACBTMN has a chord. A very special chord. Steinman described it as "the most amazing sound I ever heard.". They took a warehouse full of motorbikes (so, approximately one per orchestra member?), and revved them all simultaneously.
And then used this for one single chord.
Who says you can't make music on a motorbike?
Re: Steinman is a Rock God!
Date: 2004-11-25 04:54 am (UTC)