Sunday, June 10, 2007

Sipping Coke and Playing Games

I’m not sure whether I reported this on here or not, but earlier this jolly year of 2007, I spent the afternoon at Birmingham’s Symphony Hall ruminating sagely at a performance of Petrushka (what was written by Stravinsky). The music was merry but what truly made the visit was simply admiring the amazing Symphony Hall itself, a huge auditorium, stunningly designed with incredible acoustics. Why do I mention this now, gentle reader? Well, the Coles have purchased tickets to attend a couple of concert parties there this September and I’m extremely excited. Richard Hawley is playing there on the 7th and, by Jupiter!, we’ll be sat smugly ‘n’ snugly in the front bleedin’ row. I really rated Hawley's last long player, Coles Corner, and note that a new recording will be hitting the music emporia in the month of Augustus. Hurrah! My main cause for excitement, though, comes a week and a half later when Mr David Sylvian a-comes flouncing into the second city. I’ve waited about twenty years to see Sylvian. S and I had tickets to see him at Bristol’s Colston Hall in about 1987 or 1988 but our plans were rocked first by S tragically contracting gastroenteritis - I still remember the fellow's weak and faltering voice on the telephone as he broke the dreadful news while I simultaneously pondered, "Who the heck am I going to go with now?" - and, then, by the concert itself being cancelled (not because of my comrade’s infirmity but because Sylvian’s guitarist had, if memory serves, broken his arm). A true double whammy of mishap. We have a lot of catching up to do, Mr Sylvian and me. I can’t wait. I think it’ll be one of those occasions where I spend the first song or two just thinking, ‘That’s David Sylvian over there. Heck, that’s actually David Sylvian.”

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