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May
blossoms and brings a taste of the classics: four concerts at Garsington,
a single Spring tease 'Prom' and, the same day, May 19, the start of the
famous Glyndebourne Festival Opera. This is its 70th anniversary, as explored
by John Naughtie in a commemorative programme, First Term at Glyndebourne,
which can be heard on the BBC website and will be broadcast later this
year. Like Garsington, Glyndebourne bases itself on the lawn of the house
it is named after, and although I have not yet seen the water gardens
of Garsington, I have had the chance to sit and literally soak up Glyndebourne's
lawn on my only visit, which was to hear Le Comte Ory.
Bernard Levin might have sympahised. As he says in his book Conducted
Tour: 'From the first, I have refused to take a picnic, on the ground
that to do so in the English summer is to invite condign punishment for
hubris.' Had I been party to his wisdom I might not have taken one myself,
but on the insistence of the friends with whom I went, Glyndebourne regulars
all, we took a hamper so stuffed with delights I am not sure what ended
up more uncomfortable - the grip of my new dress or the wetness of its
seat.
I had bought just about the straightest, most rigid, formal, but floral
dress, just for the occasion. It was also more or less a first date. My
date, as well as an older musician friend of his who was an expert hamper-
and opera-picker, told me with so much glee of the elegance of Glyndebourne
(black tie by day) that I almost did not take them seriously. Finally,
my date had to march me to a dress shop the day before and together we
agreed on the formal, but floral, apparel.
By the end I think I must have been so anxious about my dress (whether
it would even remain a dress or glue itself in layers to my legs when
I stood up) that I do not remember much of the opera, except for some
remote-control sheep and the oranges which tipped from a bosom to thump
to a heavy grass grave. As it is, I find that sandwiches, like chips,
are best soggy, so our picnic was probably the best bit.
To Aldeburgh, perhaps the smallest festival city, and one I would like
to recommend for all its unlikeliness. I went to Aldeburgh with the Almeida
Theatre one summer to gain experience in stage management on the set of
Kantan, a modern opera in Japanese style, English verse and tin tune (distinctive
gong prompts marked the beat between scenes). For all its elusive musical
take, it was lost on our elderly viewers, who did not flinch as it finished
until the cast took their bow. Then, in fact, they clapped themselves
awake. Perhaps they had taken it in after all, in their own elusive way,
through closed eyes. The work was certainly an experience and one, it
seems, in keeping with Aldeburgh's slightly eerie, detached and yet typically
English appeal.
The Proms are perhaps better lauded for the range and quantity of their
performances: semi-staged operas, early and contemporary music, chamber
orchestras, choral concerts and world music. I have not yet been to the
Proms (Cathcart Spring and BBC Summer), but with tickets from just £4
for the latter, and a programme spanning more than 70 concerts at the
Royal Albert Hall, they seem a safe night out. Prommers no longer promenade
the way they did in 1895, but I am glad to hear that in the arena and
gallery they do at least stand, which always seems to me as good a way
to listen to music as to sing it.
Glastonbury, the best-known rock festival, is the polar opposite of the
Proms, not only for specialising in the other kind of music but for its
cattle-style viewing post - a field, or more accurately (1997 'The Year
of the Mud), a near-bog. One friend recalls: 'I slept with my wellies
on, half of me out of the tent. When we tried to dance we would just start
sinking, with only our arms flying around.'
Recent accusations of commercialisation at Glastonbury have allowed other
music festivals to burgeon, enticing those who would prefer to dance with
both legs and arms. Ans Guise has been tempting my palate for the Glade
Festival in Newbury, which takes its name from Glastonbury's 'unofficial'
underground trance 'Glade Stage' in Avalon Field. Mr Guise began Glade
with Nick Ladd, Mark Parsons and Luke Piper in the summer of 2003. He
describes it as 'an electronic music festival, but with the more way-out
edge of electronic music: a 21st-century festival!'
This year's line-up includes AFX, Tristan, Squarepusher, System Seven
and Hallucinogen (20% of last year's acts) as well as Sasha. Mr. Guise
admits: 'People at this kind of festival can look scary to locals, with
their dreadlocks and everything. But I think they were pleasantly surprised.
One lady in the post office said that they all looked 'quite charming'.
To Ireland's Slane Festival, in August. 'The crowds usually reach about
80,000,' says Wolfe Conyngham, whose father, the Earl of Mount Charles,
set up the festival at his family home, Slane Castle. 'Bob Dylan played
in 1894. Last year we had Madonna. U2 have also played three times and
recorded their album Unforgettable Fire here. When the Rolling Stones
played the sky went red with balloons'. So who've we got this year? 'Snoop
Dog and Eminem.' Now I know where I'll be heading.
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