wigmorend by sonja berlin-jones
You might already know that all my wonderful Lane albums were commandeered by some pompous serious sad soi-disant "musician" and shortened and turned into a "proper album" - which so far has failed dismally and not made him famous, and I am delighted because it is not what I wanted at all.
Anyway. That's not important. NOW is what matters - or at least earlier-today. This morning I popped up to London to catch the 11-30am concert at Wigmore Hall, which included the premier performance of Thomas Larcher's String Quartet No 5. The hall was less than half full and I had a whole row all to myself. For me that is the most important thing - just how comfortable I am. I don't care if the music is good or bad or death metal or reggae or opera or C&W - just so long as I can sit down and not have anyone near me and I can stretch my legs out. The truth is, the SQ itself was a bit forgettable - even while they were playing it - neither in-yr-face Modern/New/Shocking or old-fashioned romantic/classical. No tunes. And no Anti-Tunes either.
The performers were Quatuor Diotima and I know they did the work full-justice because they followed it up with Ravel's SQ and they played it brilliantly - I've heard it so often that I am bored of it but at least I know a good performance from a dud, and these four men were brilliant. In that room today there was one slightly big revolution. While I was hearing this Thomas Larcher (he was sitting in the hall - obviously - also sprawled out like me) thing being scraped out across our ears I decided that that would be my final ever visit to Wigmore Hall. It's not a decision made out of pique or anger or boredom or anything specific. It's just that I don't feel there is anything more that I could ever get out of the experience - and (most importantly) I realised just how going to Wigmore Hall buggers up all my other plans for the day.
I'd wanted to combine the visit with a long walk afterwards. But when I walked out of Wigmore Hall I already knew that the walk was off, the mood had gone, and there was nothing for it but to wander about and catch the train back home. Okay - I did stray a little unnecessarily here and there on the way back - but nothing like the detours that I'd originally wanted.
The time to start a walk is right from the moment when you leave the train or bus or car or house/home. You don't delay a walk by wandering aimlessly round a city and buying cheese in John Lewis and killing time eating it in Cavendish Square Gardens and then lay sprawled along the 1950s velvet furniture in Wigmore Hall while a bald young man has his jejune nanovember composition dribble out into the ears of three dozen OAPs .... by the time all that is over, then all passion is spent and I could never be in the mood darling, sorry, it's not you it's me.
So here is my own fifth string quartet or whatever you want it to be - but please don't let it stop you from leaving home right now and going on a wonderful walk or getting drunk or doing anything or best-of-all nothing. This is actually very good music for doing nothing.
recorded this evening, photo early afternoon today
nothing is distorted, nothing is wrong