written by Melissa, for Juliette.

In her annual attempt to inject some culture into her nineteen-year-old daughter’s life, my mother forced me to attend the Festival International d’Opéra Baroque in Beaune. So it was with resignation and not a little irritation that my father, my brother and I accompanied my mother to the concert. Perhaps more irritation on my part because I knew the tedious task of article-writing would soon follow (no bitterness here).

The Egyptian-themed concert we attended was set in the Basilique Collégiale Notre-Dame, which is admittedly a rather stunning back-up venue (the concert would have been held in the open courtyards of L’Hôtel-Dieu de Beaune were it not for the rain forecast). The late evening light flooded through impressive stained-glass windows to illuminate the orchestra imposingly. The straight-backed wooden seats (which are, incidentally, not very conducive to sleep) were filled with prim, silver-haired ladies. Needless to say, I was easily the youngest member of the audience.
Read more…

A very close family friend of ours who was a prominent and extremely successful barrister recently decided to retire to go back to school. He has chosen to study archaeology, one of his passions, and has just started his first year. I imagine the whole experience – the learning process, the integration into a strange environment where kids speak a language you’re no longer able to relate to, the unfamiliar IT tools – is all very exciting, but also extremely stressful for someone who left college over 30 years ago.

I definitely wouldn’t like to be in his shoes, although it was a close call for me. No, I didn’t discover a passion for archaeology; rather, as I was selling my business, I gave serious consideration to going back to school. I was of course very tempted to take a course in music, but also in history, which was my best subject when I was in secondary school.

I didn’t want to join a normal course since I couldn’t see myself seated next to kids who are practically my children’s age. I’d considered the adult learning programmes given by the local universities, but after some reflection I gave up the idea for two main reasons: I hate homework, and didn’t wish to give up my flexibility to travel.
Read more…

While I was in London I attended a concert I would normally have avoided, since half of the programme consisted of Arnold Schoenberg. But I bought a ticket and went in spite of my jet leg because Vladimir Jurowski was conducting a reduced orchestra. For one thing, I find Jurowski very charismatic; for another, I was curious to know what a ‘reduced orchestra’ was and how ‘reduced’ it would be.

The concert began with Richard Strauss’ Capriccio prelude for the string sextet. It was a charming piece that brought about feelings of joy and wellbeing, which unfortunately did not last. Because then came Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire.

Berliner actress and singer Albertine Zehme, an expert in melodrama, commissioned Schoenberg to compose a score based on Belgian poet Albert Giraud’s Pierrot Lunaire. She specifically requested something between words and music – a kind of ‘speech-song’. Giraud’s poems are moonlit dreams featuring characters from the commedia dell’arte, but the themes explored are dark and sombre, encompassing violence, death, religious heresy and the like.
Read more…

I first met Piotr Anderszewski at la Roque d’Anthéron Piano Festival. I had heard of this talented  pianist, but never had a chance to listen to him live.

I still remember the evening concert where I first met him. My favourite Bach Partita was on the programme, and I get very excited whenever there’s Bach. And so I began my evening full of anticipation and enthusiasm – a bit like a child who finally gets his hands on the chocolate dessert after a meal of boring veggies.

The concert was staged in the beautiful garden of Château de Florans. As I strolled towards the venue that evening, I passed by a little house from which floated strains of the last movement of the Partita. Even then, I realised that it was without a doubt Piotr, warming up for his imminent performance. The shutters were down so one could not glance inside, but the music was clear and loud.  I could hear the pianist concentrating on that last bit, repeating it over and over again, reaching for perfection. I remained behind that window for maybe over ten minutes, touched not only by his will and perseverance, but also by the vulnerability of his art.
Read more…

I have been travelling so extensively lately that I missed most of the wonderful performances that Le French May brought to Hong Kong this year. Fortunately however, I managed to attend a concert featuring Nemanja Radulovic, a young Serbian violinist that I first heard last May, when he delivered an exceptional and unusual version of Bach’s Violin Concerto at La Folle Journée in Tokyo.

Nemanja has very unique looks: stunning long hair; dark, mesmerising eyes; a childlike, elfish face; and a smile that is charming and seductive, but innocent at the same time. It is a smile that makes you smile back instantly.

At the tender age of 24, Nemanja already has a well-established reputation. He won a number of reputable international prizes and his exposure is quite extensive in France, where he has been living since the age of 14 and where he trained at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Paris.
Read more…

The first time I heard Paul Lewis was on a CD. It was a recording of Schubert’s Winterreise. I am ashamed to admit that I had never heard of Paul before, and the reason I bought the CD was actually to hear Mark Padmore, whom I consider one of the most talented and sensitive tenors of our time. He is someone who sings "intelligently", as Paul himself put it when we finally met.

I love Schubert, but I am not really a big fan of Winterreise. I find it too sad. Although it was written for tenors, I also have few recordings by baritones and mezzos. My favorite version used to be the one with Hans Hotter and Michael Raucheisen, that is, until the day I listened to Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis. I was completely transported. Mark was intensely moving, and Paul, especially in Gute Nacht, was delicate and tender, with subtle phrasing and dramatic pauses. The sound of the piano was like an echo, sighing at the sadness of the lyrics. My heart beat in time with his notes, sinking with the cadenza. It was without doubt the best Gute Nacht I had ever heard in my life.
Read more…

Every spring in Ueno, the cherry blossom starts to bloom, heralding the music festival fittingly entitled “Spring Festival In Tokyo”. This year the festival took place between March 14th and April 10th.

One of the highlights of this year’s festival was Wagner’s Opera “Parsifal”. The five hour piece was performed as a concert rather than its traditional stage setting. This unusual production captured everyone’s attention and proved to be a big hit of the festival.
Read more…

I spent the busiest days in April, since we had 4 big events in this month.

On April, 10^th, there was the festival called “Ryukyu Kaiensai” in Okinawa.

The main event was the fireworks on the Gino-wan, the western shore of Okinawa.

What is so special about the fireworks, is more than 10,000 fireworks was risen with the music for 1 hour. Fireworks with music is so unique and impressive.

Actually I chose the classic part this year and Junko Koshino, one of the well-known Japanese Fashion Designer made the image of the fireworks with the aria from “Madame Butterfly” and “Walkyure”. http://www.ryukyu-kaiensai.com/

Read more…

This year, La Folle Journée is celebrating the 200th anniversary of Chopin’s birth. I decided to take my mother, a Chopin enthusiast, for a special three-day musical marathon.

Once again, thanks to the concierge team at The Peninsula, I managed to secure a good number of tickets. Unfortunately some performances had sold out the day the tickets went on sale, but I did get places at a grand total of ten concerts, chosen mainly according to the programme as many of the artists were unknown to me.

The artist I was most looking forward to seeing was Ivo Pogorelich. I had never heard him live in concert, but own many of his recordings. His rendition of Scarlatti’s Sonatas is definitely one of my favorite CDs. He was performing Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 with the Sinfonia Varsovie, an outstanding orchestra which had participated in the Queen Elisabeth Musical Voyage.
Read more…

When bass vocalist Alexei Tanovitsky visited Hong Kong to perform Wagner’s Die Walküre, he was heard coughing and choking onstage. Similarly, following his concert in Hong Kong, Tom Jones was forced to cancel the remainder of his Asian tour due to laryngitis. Not to mention all the performances I attended where an apologetic notice informed the audience that in order to “accommodate” the performing artists, the temperature of the performance hall had to be raised. And there are probably others—performing artists or otherwise—getting sick after visiting Hong Kong. So what is happening to Hong Kong, Asia’s self-branded world city? World city of what?

In Hong Kong, you need to bring a coat indoors.
Air conditioning is on full force even when it is only 10°C outside.
There is no way to adjust the temperature because all landlords compete to have their central air conditioning on full blast, since cool is apparently glam.

In Hong Kong, there are buses everywhere.
We might be considered lucky to have such a great public transportation system.
But most of the time, our buses are old and almost empty, and they create traffic jams and poison our air.
Read more…