Review

Into The Silence Explode the Fulltone Orchestra

A Classical Explosion at Marlborough College Chapel; a review

It’s been a long road and a wild ride since the Fulltone Orchestra burst on to the Wiltshire music scene with ‘Iconic Tunes – 2017’ at the Corn Exchange, Devizes. Back then conductor and musical director Anthony Brown said – ‘We are not your ordinary orchestra. I set it up to not only bring something a bit different, but with the view to thrill…’

The last time they played in Marlborough College Chapel was in February 2019, when they thrilled the audience with out of this world tunes from The Planets and Star Wars. In July of that year, they transformed the Market Place in Devizes into a riot of colour and sound, and in August of this year they pulled off what seemed at one point to be impossible post-Covid – a two-day festival of classical, house, and big band music on The Green in Devizes.

The Fulltone Orchestra is made up of professional and semi-professional musicians from all over the South-West, and since 2017 has increased in size to 60 – 65 players at any one time. It’s not only the size of the orchestra that has changed; under Anthony Brown’s direction they have become slicker, more skilled, and more able to play increasingly complex and ambitious pieces in accordance with his perfectionism and vision.

On Saturday (16th October 2021) they broke the sacred silence of Marlborough College Chapel with their Classical Explosion Concert, starting with Shostakovich’s Festival Overture, and from then on fireworks and heart strings all the way – Grieg’s ‘In The Hall Of The Mountain King’, ‘Finlandia’, Barber’s ‘Adagio for Strings’, ‘Scheherazade’, ‘Mambo!’ from West Side Story – the interval, and then – ‘Fanfare for the Common Man’, Holst, Debussy, ‘A Night On The Bare Mountain’ by Mussorgsky, and ’Suite from the Lord of the Rings’, finishing with the glorious (no cannons allowed in the chapel, though!) ‘1812 Overture’.

This concert was special – whilst the Fulltone Festival was a wonderfully eclectic celebration of music and community, this was a big step up on the classical quality scale. I’ve seen how hard this orchestra rehearse, and the hard work certainly paid off on Saturday. I loved principal violinist Chico Chakravorty’s sensitive and accomplished performance in ‘Scheherazade’ (one of my favourites), likewise Rebecca McGrath’s ethereal harp playing in the same piece. Michelle Krawiec’s flute solo in ‘Suite from the Lord of the Rings’ was magical. I enjoyed ‘Fanfare for the Common Man’ (love a bit of percussion) and was surprised to experience what I can only describe as ‘a minor wobbler’ in reaction to the orchestra’s triumphant rendition of ‘Jupiter’.

There were so many surprising and mesmerising moments in this concert. Every time I looked down the dark vault of the Chapel the audience appeared to be transfixed, and after the 1812 Overture they rose as one and gave the orchestra a very well-deserved standing ovation.

I cried with delight and relief at the end, and I wasn’t the only one. The concert was quite simply a massive achievement. Even Tone looked like he had a tear in his eye, but that could of course have been a trick of the light. I had a conversation with a friend along the lines of – ‘That was actually amazing wasn’t it, wasn’t it? Was it?’ ‘Oh yes, yes it was!’, and we had a celebratory hug.

But when you’re emotionally invested in something and not very well musically educated you can never be quite sure of your ability to be objective, so after the concert I asked someone better informed and less emotional than me what they thought of the night.

‘It was enjoyable with a good selection of music’ they said, which believe me from some is praise indeed.

When I reviewed ‘A Night with Bernstein and Gershwin’ back in February 2018 I said that the orchestra were ‘not perfect by any means, but somehow really rather brilliant’. What’s changed since then? The orchestra are still imperfect (is any orchestra ever perfect?) but oh my goodness they are getting even more shiny and brilliant by the moment.

What I also said back then was ‘More, more, more from the Fulltone Orchestra over the next few years, please!’

There’s a lot more to come from this orchestra, and it’s not just about the music – it’s about the story, the energy, the challenge, the community feel, the shared joy amongst the musicians that spills out into the audience.

The Fulltone Orchestra are going places, don’t say I didn’t tell you so. Next stop Bath Abbey on November 4^th and then, who knows.

Come and see them for yourself!

Come along for the ride!

Rehearsal image and concert review © Gail Foster 19^th October 2021

‘To the virus, we are landscape’ by CJ Thorpe-Tracey; a review

When CJ Thorpe-Tracey’s first poetry pamphlet slipped coolly into my Facebook Newsfeed I knew I had to have it. My dealings with Thorpe-Tracey to date have been that I met him at a gig he played a few years ago and that I read his Facebook posts with interest. He seems to say it as it is, and isn’t, or so I thought when I read one of his reviews once, much of a people-pleaser. I think of him as a bit of a left-wing Leonardo (or so I decided as I was making notes for this review), one of those people who can turn their hand to many things and do them well, and (more importantly to a self-obsessed poet with a short attention span) as a person who is unlikely to waste my time.

It has been a tradition over recent centuries for a new poet to introduce their work to the world by means of the production of a pamphlet, or chapbook, a slim volume of verse.

The book, with its subtle seascape cover, looks like a bit of class – ‘Tranquil, clear, and calm’, says my mate T as she feels it between her palms (I’ll explain about T later) – and like something I want to own, something important.

So I order it and it arrives and I decide that when I read it it will be a proper moment and it sits on the sideboard for a while.

My qualification for reviewing a book of free verse consists of a B in A level English achieved in my late teens when I was off my head, and five years of teaching my middle-aged self, mostly, to write poetry in traditional forms. I avoid free verse like the plague (not the best analogy in this day and age) as it seems to me that most of it is lazy tosh written because someone couldn’t be bothered to break their brain on a proper poem. I do know some damn good poets though, and every now and again I stumble across a free verse poem that causes me to catch my breath, so I’m open to educating myself and moderating my view.

Free verse may contain structure but is not bound by it, likewise there may be rhyme or there may not be.

It’s misty on the morning that I decide to open ‘To the virus, we are landscape’, and as I read the first poem ‘No pharmaceuticals’, the mist lifts and the sun streams into my living room and I catch my breath and my eyes fill with tears.

This is a poet who knows about words.

This is a poet who knows about sickness and shadow.

There are other poems in the book that do this to me; ‘Second Pillar’, in which the poet contrasts church bells with the Call to Prayer; ‘Visiting Hours’, a hospital conversation about racism and remaining; ‘Catholic Primary’, a brutal story of bullying and revenge; ‘Dementor’, in which the poet makes his views on JK Rowling known and no bones about it; and, my favourite I think, ‘Second Spike’, a poignant account of the evolution of a relationship during the months of coronavirus.

It’s a book about Britain in 2020, and the material in it is both personal and political. There’s a poem called ‘First six weeks of lockdown’; one called ‘Eat Out To Help Out’; an acerbic and gloriously vulgar set of lines called ‘A Dick Pic Triptych’ on the subject of Hancock, Johnson, and Cummings; and of course ‘To the virus, we are landscape’, which is the last of the twenty-one poems.

Thorpe-Tracey breaks the book up with a couple of pictures of tweets and three small poems on the theme of ‘wet’, and in the Acknowledgements says that he has been inspired by the work of Suzannah Evans and John McCullough.

What do I love about the lines in this book? The alliteration – ‘hung on high and hammer smashed’; the similes – ‘a goose-like honk through silence / as lime into cream’; the visceral (and often food-related) physicality – ‘Cold-burnt my teeth on a cumulus chunk’, ‘a lady snapped / a chicken bone above her plate’, ‘Crushed into the nuts and salt’.

What do I not like? Not much. Although I will say, and this is more about my grounding in traditional verse forms than Thorpe-Tracey’s ability, that sometimes the nearly but not quite form thing is a little frustrating. I’m not sure whether the fact that I like that he often ends a verse with a rhyme is about pure appreciation or relief, and I find myself counting syllables with some of the pieces. In ‘Grandma’s Funeral’, he’s gone for the 5-7-5 used in haiku/senryu/tanka and stuck to it, whereas in his ‘wet’ poems he wavers.

I rarely read other peoples’ work but I’ve read this book more than once and I love it. I love it because it takes me to places I know and don’t know at the same time; I love it because the words are complex and beautiful and I relish them; and I love it because it’s realistic and philosophical and it moves me.

And that’s where my friend T comes in. Because this book moves me a lot and I need to check that out. So, as we’re sat on the edge of the fountain in the Market Place in town with our coffees, and after T, who works in the NHS, has held the book between her palms and said that it is ‘Tranquil, calm, and clear’, I read ‘Visiting Hours’ to her.

And there it is. A sharp intake of breath and a silent ‘Ooo’. ‘How’ says T, ‘can so much be said with so few words?’

Not just me, then.

I’m delighted to have CJ Thorpe-Tracey’s pocket-sized piece of poetic excellence and bittersweet bite of history on my shelves. Reading ‘To the virus, we are landscape’ has been a great use of my time and whilst I am not yet a convert to free verse I do feel that I understand it better.

Methinks the gentleman has played a blinder, and I look forward to more.

Review © Gail Foster 10^th December 2020

Q&A (thanks to CJ Thorpe-Tracey for the answers)

1. Any reason that you are not going to do a reprint? Might it appear in other ways in future?

I misjudged the timing of poetry publishing – how far ahead everything is scheduled. So I had to decide either to hold off till May/June 2021 (to try to get it into magazines etc) or to just not worry about that and go for it now. This pamphlet is so rooted in 2020 and Covid upheaval, I wanted it out, while it’s still all around us.

So now, it’s selling well, but to my own audience outside of poetry, rather than a ‘real’ poetry readership; I’m not making in-roads into that world. Plus obviously I’m just starting out, with a lot still to learn.

My plan is to move on – get on with writing more, submit to magazines as I go, until the next time I’ve got enough done for a pamphlet, however long that takes.

If I ever have enough work to publish a full book collection, I’ll include these.

2) Is the Dick Pic Triptych based on an old form?

It’s not sadly, it’s just built off the rhythm of the first two lines, which I got from hip hop rather than poems.

3) (Forgive me!) How do you Feel about the book and the work inside it?

I like it as a whole and I think it’s strong as a debut effort. I enjoyed the processes, it’s very new to me (and profoundly different from song lyric writing). There are poems in there I’m very proud of.

However I do think I leapt into publishing a pamphlet too early (but did so for good reasons, i.e. what I mention above, about corona times). So serious poetry people may find my work quite ‘beginner level’/naive and simple.

At the same time, it’s not really about that, right? The words pleased me!

Fwiw your own kind of tautly constructed rhyming poetry inspires me just as much – often more – than free verse and that “oh how clever am I, disguising archaic formalism within something that appears to be free verse” stuff that seems to be prevalent, as if poems are maths problems.

And finally –

4) Will there be another one?

Definitely. Not until I’m certain it’s ready though, I’m not setting a deadline.

For further information about ‘To the virus, we are landscape’ by CJ Thorpe-Tracey, published by Border Crossing Press 2020, email chris@christt.com, or find him on Twitter @christt

RENT at the Arc Theatre, Trowbridge

Rent at the Arc Theatre - montage by Gail Foster

This week ArcProductions present RENT at the Arc Theatre, Trowbridge, directed by Cherie Demmery.

For those not in the know, Rent is a Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning rock musical, loosely based on Puccini’s La Bohème and first performed in 1996, exactly one hundred years after the opening night of the opera. Its creator Jonathan Larson died the night before the premiere and never got to see what an enduring success his musical became.

Rent is set in East Village in Lower Manhattan in the late 80s/early 90s, at a time when the community there was being ravaged by HIV/Aids. The main characters are Roger (Rob Finlay), a musician desperate to write one good song before he dies, Mark (Karl Montgomery-Williams), a film maker who records the story, Mimi (Cherry Fox) an exotic dancer, Collins (Matt Dauncey), a professor and gay rights activist, Angel (Thomas Montgomery-Williams), a drummer and drag queen, Maureen (Emma Victoria Webb), a promiscuous performance artist, Joanne (Becky Lawrence), a lawyer, and Benny (Naomi Marie), a former roommate turned landlord. Other characters are parents, junkies, homeless persons, a dealer, a waiter, a window cleaner, a producer, and the police; and some cast members take on several roles. The action takes place in and around Mark and Roger’s flat as they and the wider community struggle to define themselves and come to terms with death whilst keeping their homes and relationships together in uncertain and challenging times.

Scaffolding sets are the usual choice for Rent, and the stage and balconies at the Arc Theatre were divided into various performance areas and decorated with graffiti, wire mesh, coloured mobiles, and mannikins, giving the impression of an arty scrapyard. The music was provided by a small but harmoniously formed band comprised of Musical Director Liam Howlett on keyboards, one guitarist, one bass guitarist, and a percussionist, from behind a transparent screen of coloured squares stage left that echoed the traditional design of Rent’s publicity posters.

There’s a lot going on in this musical; visually, emotionally, musically, simultaneously; almost to the point of sensory overload. Why sing one song when you can sing eight at a time, why just have the one scene when you can have three going on in the same space? There’s not a moment for a breath in Rent, and certainly not a moment to be bored. That’s why people love it and go to see it time and time (thirteen times in the case of one cast member) again.

The cast of ArcProductions have been in rehearsal since September, and it showed. I went to the dress rehearsal expecting to have to excuse various mistakes on the grounds that the show would be alright on the night but found little to criticise and much to wildly praise. The high level of energy and competence exhibited by the players, some of whom clearly had professional experience and most of whom appeared to have had training of some sort, was consistent with a show at the end of a week’s run rather than a dress.

The standard was so high and the cast worked so well together that it is hard to pick out any one performance for particular remark. The minor roles were played with as much gusto as the leads, and everyone availed themselves of the opportunity to shine. The things that worked especially well for me were; the chemistry between Roger and his doomed love Mimi, and Collins and the flighty Angel; the spotlights at the sides and the phone scenes; the colourful costumes and complex choreography; the way multiple harmonies were woven together in songs like ‘Another Day’ and ‘Christmas Bells’; Rob Finlay’s performance of ‘One Song Glory’ and his character’s broad emotional range; Cherry Fox’s flirty junky; Emma Victoria Webb’s mesmerising and witty performance of ‘Over The Moon’; Thomas Montgomery-Williams’ sass and sensitivity; Karl Montgomery-Williams’ American boy; Naomi Marie’s magnetic stage presence; Maureen and Joanne’s (Becky Lawrence) ‘Take Me Or Leave Me’ duet; the joy and vigour of the table dance in ‘La Vie Bohème’; the strong voices of the chorus and triumphant cadences of the score: and the sheer gut wrenching mournful magnificence of Matt Dauncey’s rendition of ‘I’ll Cover You (Reprise)’.

Rent is a musical about how a disease devastates a community and how that community comes to terms and comes together in the face of adversity. It’s a musical about creativity, diversity, equality, and social justice. It’s a brave and life-affirming musical about love, that picks you up and dances with you and then drops you from a great height into a pool of tears.

It’s a musical about dying, and hope.

Me and the bloke sat next to me cried at the end.

Thanks, ArcProductions!

That was amazing.

Images and text © Gail Foster 21^st February 2020

TITCO do Spamalot!

The Invitation Theatre Company at St.Mary’s, Devizes ~ a dress rehearsal review

England, 932 AD, and the country is ravaged by plague, purposeless, pestered by the French, and in need of a firm hand at the helm. Enter Arthur, King by virtue of the fact that once he was given a sword by a watery tart, and his hapless servant Patsy, coconut clip clopping across the land in search of knights to save the day, the funniest fart joke, and the nebulous Grail.

Such is the plot of Jemma Brown and TITCO’s production of Monty Python’s musical comedy Spamalot, loosely based on the film ‘Monty Python and The Holy Grail’ and first performed on Broadway in 2005.

There’s been a real buzz in town about this show, and I’m sure I’m not the only person to eagerly anticipate sinking into a pew in St. Mary’s and sighing with relief at having escaped from Britain’s current woes and impossible quests for a couple of hours.

I wasn’t disappointed. Apart from being unable to resist comparing the England of Spamalot with the country today and our own search for a nebulous Grail I was completely lost from the outset in the world of mirth, magic, and medieval silliness that TITCO had created with a little help from their friends (knights who scaled the walls to black the windows out, masters of the lights and smoke, knights with needles and an eye for fabric and design) in what has to surely be the perfect venue for such a show.

For all its silliness, Spamalot is a complicated and fast paced show involving a lot of physical comedy and choreography, and multiple costume changes for some of the characters (particularly Ian Diddams, who can’t quite remember exactly how many but was most memorable as Tim the horny Scottish enchanter). The cast did a great job of keeping up the momentum throughout, which bodes well for the rest of the run. Fish slapping and Finnish dancing, creepy monks and can can dancers, flying cows and Trojan rabbits, loose-bowelled knights and mystical misunderstandings – at no time did the action flag and if anyone fluffed a line there was far too much going on to notice.

Anthony Brown stepped out of his role as Musical Director to give a creditable performance as the idealistic but naive Arthur with Debby Wilkinson doing a fine bit of character acting as Patsy; Terésa Isaacson with her powerful voice was an imposing presence as The Lady of the Lake; all the knights were hilarious, although I have to say how much I enjoyed the performances of Chris Worthy as the not-so-brave-or-continent Sir Robin, and Matt Dauncey’s macho-but-underneath-it-all-totally-gay Sir Lancelot (steady with that lance, sir, you’ll have someone’s eye out – just saying); and Will Sexton as Prince Herbert was wonderfully wet.

Then there were the nicely played cameos – melodious mischievous minstrels, legless knights and dancing nuns, political peasants and obstreperous Frenchmen – the old songs (who doesn’t need to be reminded to ‘Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life’?) and familiar jokes, and – my favourite Python thing ever – the Knights of Ni (‘Ni.’ ‘Ni.’ Etc.).

The only negative in my view (aside from the obvious stereotyping of gay people and the French) related to the script, and that was the ‘We Won’t Succeed On Broadway If We Don’t Have Any Jews’ song. I’m still thinking about that and about what is acceptable in this day and age in the context of performance and historical record. It didn’t sit well for me at all, but I’m sure that TITCO thought hard about including it and decided to keep it in in the spirit of authenticity rather than racism.

There’s so much that is good about TITCO’s show but for me the best thing about it is that this motley group of people, many of who would not be out of place in professional productions, are one big talented dancing singing and joking happy family, and their wild enthusiasm at working together shows in both the energy they display and the quality of their performances.

And who doesn’t like a good fart joke?

The Invitation Theatre Company’s production of Spamalot, despite its archaic political incorrectness, is just the kind of silliness we need in these ridiculously serious times.

Now, back to looking for that Grail…

(‘Ni.’)

© Gail Foster 25^th June 2019

John Simpson at Devizes Arts Festival

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John Simpson at the Corn Exchange, Friday 31st May

One would expect a reporter of John Simpson’s standing and experience to be very careful and specific with his choice of words.

Simpson has been with the BBC for 52 years and has reported on 47 wars. He is a man whose words are to be listened to, and on Friday night a packed house at the Corn Exchange were curious and enthusiastic to hear what he had to say and ask him questions about his long career and the state of the world as we know it today.

The man is all bon homie and old school decency, and one suspects that his affability and fair manner have got him out of many a sticky situation. He starts off light, laughing about being punched on his first day on the job and being mistaken for David Attenborough, and chatting about family. He has a book to promote but avoids saying much about that at all.

He talks about the BBC, saying that these days there is opposition from all sides towards the organisation and that he’s never been told to tone it down in all the years he has worked for them. He talks about Trump, his ‘habit of tweeting insanities’ and strategy of giving away positions and key elements before presenting final agreements as amazing victories. He’s disappointed that the 30^th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square protests will be overshadowed by Trump’s visit to the UK. He says that Gaddafi was off his head, that Saddam Hussein scared him, and that al-Bashir was weak and wanted to be liked. He liked Thatcher, although ‘When she was good she was very very good and when she was bad she was something else’. He says that Mandela treated people as the best version of themselves and waxes lyrical about his admiration for Václav Havel. He acknowledges that China is to be taken very seriously indeed and thinks that the best strategy is to keep it in play. China is, says Simpson, surprisingly open and anxious to be part of the international community.

He saves his most emotive words for how he feels about Britain today. ‘The line of confrontation’ he says, ‘is very disturbing indeed’. He compares the UK to France in the 50s, which was, he says ‘extraordinarily violent’. He says that there is a ‘vicious divide which stirs up the weakest intellects’. He talks about the ‘disgraceful’ messages that his colleague Laura Kuenssberg gets on social media and says that he holds social media responsible for the current ‘nastiness and violence’, for which he gets a round of applause. He refers to ‘disturbing threats to freedom’ and says that he feels more able to talk freely about other countries than our own these days. He’s dismayed to see our reputation plummet in the eyes of the world. ‘It’s painful to find that Britain has become an international joke’ and ‘It’s important to realise the way we’ve damaged our country’.

He wonders if Brexit was ‘the tinder that started the whole performance’ but stops short of apportioning blame to any particular entity. ‘This Brexit business is going to change things’ he says sadly, wishing that we could be ‘back the way we were before all this started’.

There are points where Simpson catches himself just before he falls into an abyss of pessimism and says something about hope. He does, after all, have a young son to be optimistic for. Terrorism is 7 or 8% of what it was in the seventies, he says, and a billion have been lifted out of poverty in the past 13 years. But when it comes to Britain he struggles to find any positives at all, and this from a man like Simpson is disturbing. ‘We need to try and be less divisive ourselves and more accepting of other points of view’, he says, wishing for the best but sounding as if he is whistling in the wind.

He sticks rigidly to his three-quarter hour talk and fifteen-minute Q&A plan, but then he didn’t get where he is today by faffing about. Those who wanted endless war stories are disappointed, but those who wanted his views on current situations are not. He signs books afterwards and is very approachable.

I ask people what they thought of the great man. ‘His description of Mandela – it revealed that what we all hoped to be true of him actually was’ says one audience member. ‘Honest’, ‘Genuine’, ‘Empowering’, and ‘Awe-inspiring’, say others. ‘I was sitting there thinking what have I done with my life’ says my friend. The general feeling is that it has been a privilege to hear John Simpson speak, and that people have been delighted by his wit.

And then off he goes, with shrapnel in his side and a shard of hope in his heart, to his next adventure.

In the Market Place I take a picture of him smiling.

© Gail Foster 3^rd June 2019

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White Horse Opera; Spring Concert 2019

The Assembly Room in Devizes Town Hall, with its sparkling chandeliers and grand paintings, was the perfect venue for White Horse Opera’s glamorous Spring Concert on Friday.

Musical Director Ronald Melia and pianist Tony James took the company through a programme comprised of songs from Carmen and The Mikado, White Horse Opera’s forthcoming November show and touring opera respectively, with additional pieces by Puccini, Dvorak, Gounod, Mozart, and Flanders and Swann, and renditions of ‘Danny Boy’ and ‘Santa Lucia’ from guest tenor and clarinetist Sebastiano Cipolla.

The show started in lively fashion with two duets from The Magic Flute and The Marriage of Figaro, performed with delightful delicacy and chemistry by Jessica Phillips and Jon Paget; followed by Barbara Gompels soaring through Donde Lieta from La Bohème; Paula Boyagis singing Seguidilla and Card Aria from Carmen; and Charles Leeming singing The Sentry’s Song from Iolanthe (‘When in that house MPs divide…they’ve got to leave that brain outside’) with topical tweaks. The first half concluded with a selection of pieces from the Mikado including the Willow Song and Three Little Maids.

The second half contained an ensemble from The Magic Flute (Chrissie Higgs, Louise Surowiec, Paula Boyagis, and Lisa House); Cherubino’s aria from The Marriage of Figaro (a ‘breeches’ song, as in a boy’s song performed by a girl, well done by Chrissie Higgs); Paula again singing A Word on My Ear, a funny Flanders and Swann song about a tone deaf singer which perversely showcases a whole range of musical tricks; Barbara singing the heart rending Song to the Moon by Dvorak beautifully (reminiscent of Somewhere Over The Rainbow, methinks); Sebastiano Cipolla and his clarinet; Lisa House’s pure voice powering through The Jewel Song from Faust; and then the entire company singing a medley from Carmen ending with the rousing March of the Toreadors.

There was much to like and admire in this show. I enjoyed Graham Billing’s bashful and witty Ko-Ko, and his Little List song. Being somewhat surprised to hear Ant and Dec and Boris mentioned in a White Horse Opera show I wondered whether it was traditional to update the references (it is, but it seems to have become more usual to do so since Eric Idle performed the song in the 80s).

It’s hard to say just how magnificent and moving some of these singers’ voices are, and impossible not to be impressed by the vocal acrobatics that opera demands. Barbara Gompels and Lisa House produced some notes that thrilled me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and there were many other technical excellences and moving musical moments in the show from individual singers and the company as a whole.

But what impressed me most was the acting, particularly in the first duets, Jon Paget’s assertive and impressive Escamillo, and Paula Boyagis in everything she did.

One got the impression that Paula was in her element given the Flanders and Swann number, the Card Aria, and the passionate Carmen to get her teeth into. She glittered, smouldered, flirted, pouted, sashayed up and down the aisle swirling her red skirts, seduced the audience and sang her wild gypsy heart out. She’s a superb Carmen and a versatile singer and actress and I look forward to seeing her play the role in November.

Last but by no means least – Sebastiano Cipolla and his mellifluous voice and clarinet. His lovely liquid jazz interpretation of Danny Boy was like nothing I have ever heard before, and his use of the clarinet as a prop in Santa Lucia was hilarious. It’s good to be surprised by things, and Sebastian’s performance left me feeling that I had experienced something unusual and delicious.

I have to say that I found the whole night rather lively and surprising. I’ve enjoyed White Horse Opera’s shows before but this one knocked spots off the rest and I think that’s for two reasons; one, that the shape of the Town Hall stage suits a static chorus with room for only a few actors, and two, that the energy levels and confidence of the entire company appeared to be sky high.

I thought White Horse Opera’s Spring Concert was wonderful, and afterwards people who know far more than me about opera agreed.

© Gail Foster 30^th March 2019

‘As You Like It’ at The Wharf Theatre

I went to the dress rehearsal for the Wharf Theatre’s production of ‘As You Like It’, directed by Liz Sharman, on Sunday.

Described as a pastoral comedy, ‘As You Like It’ is thought to have been written in 1599 and would have been played to an audience of mixed social status and varying degrees of education. Not being familiar with the play I did some reading before I went, and not for the first time was amazed at the extraordinary level of analysis that has been applied to it over the years.

What if sometimes Shakespeare just wrote stuff for fun?

‘As You Like It’ is a story of lovers and fools, relationships and rivalry, romance and reconciliation.

Duke Senior, having been deposed by his brother Duke Frederick, has set up camp in the Forest of Arden. Back in the court his daughter Rosalind has fallen in love with Orlando, the son of one of Duke Frederick’s enemies, during a wrestling match arranged by Orlando’s brother Oliver in order to get rid of him.

Asa result of the wrestling match both Rosalind and Orlando are separately cast out of the court. Rosalind dresses as a man and takes to the forest with Celia, Duke Frederick’s daughter, who disguises herself as Rosalind’s sister, and Touchstone, a jester. Orlando, accompanied by his elderly servant Adam, also takes to the forest, and occupies himself looking for Rosalind and leaving appalling poetry in trees.

Other characters of note are Jacques, a fool/traveller/hermit, shepherds Corin, Silvius and Phoebe, and Audrey, a goatherd, and smaller parts include a vicar, the Spirit of Summer, singers and minor lords.

The set was simple and effective, with a plain white backdrop and flowers, and trees indicated by struts of wood and subtle coloured shadows. Characters were dressed in a combination of Victorian and present-day dress, and the songs (there are more songs in this than in any other Shakespeare play) were folky and traditional with hey nonny nos and contemporary overtones.

Actors, then; what struck me most was the different ways they handled the complex script. There are two ways to read Shakespeare, full on theatrical and naturalistic, and both styles were mingled here with good results. Whilst it was easy to spot the trained actors in this show everyone delivered their lines well and there were very few hiccups.

Helen Langford played a feisty and modern Rosalind (the largest female part in Shakespeare) with admirable principal boy verve and mischief, and Lucy Upward gave a fine performance as her cousin and confidante, Celia. Lewis Cowen was suitably regal and wise as Duke Senior, and Phil Greenaway (in his first Shakespeare role), and Duncan Delmar played Orlando and Silvius respectively in endearingly hapless and lovelorn fashion.

But it was the fools who stole the show for me. There’s a lot about foolishness and wisdom in this play, and it is the fools and the folk of the fields who have the best lines.

‘All the world’s a stage’ muses the melancholy and world-weary Jacques, played by Oli Beech with glorious floridity, and ‘The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool’ says Touchstone, played as a charismatic Northern lad by Daz Beatson.

‘As You Like It’ is full of sage advice on love and life, comedy moments, and fine little intricate speeches. I enjoyed Touchstone’s explanation of the seven causes and Jacques’ performance of the seven ages of man; I laughed at the vicar on the scooter and the phrases ‘country copulatives’ and ‘the horn, the horn, the lusty horn’, at Abigail Newton’s hilarious portrayal of Audrey the clumsy goatherd, at the sheep noises (not sure I was supposed to laugh at that bit), and at Orlando’s terrible poetry; I thought the wrestling was exciting, and the music wistful (credit to Stuart Mayling for his musical and wrestling skills), and I liked the wordplay.

And I looked for the grand themes referred to in my researches on Google.

Echoes of Ecclesiastes, echoes of Arcadia – oh it’s deep enough in places, and the more intellectual types in Shakespeare’s audience would have found plenty to delight them. You could analyse this play till the sheep come home (four centuries of analysis, for goodness’ sake!) but it is predominantly a wild and witty romp, and I think Liz Sharman’s wonderfully lively and watchable production hit exactly the right note.

Shakespeare wrote this for fun, and The Wharf Theatre’s production of ‘As You Like It’ is a fun show.

Shakespeare, fun? Yes, really!

Well done.

(review and photographs)

Health Thai Massage, Chippenham; a review

I’m sure I’m not the only person to have walked past the new Thai Massage place on Station Hill in Chippenham and made certain sniggery presumptions about seedy and stereotypical ‘happy endings’.

This isn’t that sort of place at all, and those in need of sexual relief would be best advised to walk on by. What goes on here is authentic Thai and oil massage, delivered in a clean, safe, and comfortable environment by professional masseuses Nui, the proprietor, and Kadek, her experienced colleague.

Massage is a fascinating and intimate thing to photograph.

I would describe Sue as an advanced customer. She’d been to yoga before coming in and is very flexible. I watch in awe as Nui, the proprietor, bends her into shapes I didn’t know were possible, throws her around, treads all over her, pummels her, and pulls her about. ‘It’s all about energy’ says Nui, ‘I give my energy to her’. I watch Nui’s face as she thoughtfully considers her next move, feeling her way on Sue’s body with feet, hands, and elbows, rolling on her and pressing on particular points (‘Who does that?’ says Sue, her face a picture of radiant delight as Nui finds just the right place on her inner arm to apply pressure).

Whilst the acrobatics are interesting to watch, it’s the hands that get me. The hands and the feet and the head. Knots and pools of tension we don’t realise we have released from places we are rarely touched. It’s so moving watching the effect that the massage has on Sue, and how she responds to Nui’s alternately firm and gentle manipulations.

‘Oooo!’ says Sue, as yet again Nui hits the spot, ‘Ah’ and ‘Mmm’ and ‘Oh!’.

The massage lasts an hour, during which time Sue, who had been bendy and cheerful enough when she came in, is reduced to a profoundly relaxed and blissed out jelly.

As she is leaving a Mum comes in with her little girl, and Nui agrees a half an hour session with her, and twenty minutes with her daughter. Not everyone is as used to long vigorous massage as Sue is, and Nui will be careful to ask about health conditions and take it gently with novice customers. They had a lady of eighty in the other day, men are booking their partners in for sessions, and couples can be booked in at the same time.

Word is clearly getting around that Thai Massage Chippenham is not just for men.

When you have a Thai massage you keep your clothes on, and when you have the oil massage, in which only pure coconut oils are used, the body is covered with towels to preserve modesty should that be required.

Security cameras are installed on the premises for everyone’s safety.

This isn’t a whore house.

Nor is it Champneys.

It’s a respectable no frills establishment in the centre of Chippenham where you can go and get a deep and powerful, or soft and sensuous (that’s sensuous, not sexual), Thai massage and know that you are in good hands.

What a wonderful thing to photograph.

Look at Sue’s face!

Health Thai Massage Chippenham.

Give it a go.

(click on this link for more information)

White Horse Opera do ‘The Magic Flute’

On Wednesday I went to the opening night of White Horse Opera’s much anticipated run of ‘The Magic Flute’, directed by Chrissie Higgs, at Lavington School.

Mozart’s ‘singspiel’ style opera, with libretto by his friend Emanuel Shikaneder, was first performed in Vienna in 1791. It’s a classic fairy tale and love story in which boy gets girl, baddies get their comeuppance, and everyone else lives happily ever after. It is also a profound and potted lesson in the initiatory processes and philosopy of the Freemasons, the brotherhood to which both Mozart and his librettist belonged, and the symbols of which permeate the work.

Prince Tamino, a fine upstanding lad of good character, and his flighty friend Papageno, the bird-catcher, having escaped the clutches of a serpent, are given a flute and a set of magical bells by three strange ladies and guided by three spirits (threes being a recurring theme throughout) to the castle and temples of Sarastro, High Priest of the Sun, in order to rescue the Queen of the Night’s daughter Pamina, with whom Tamino has fallen in love. Along the way it becomes clear that all is not as it appears to be, and that they and the wholesome Pamina will have to undergo certain trials (of silence, fire, and water) in order to achieve (with differing degrees of success) true love and enlightenment.

‘The Magic Flute’ has a complex and varied musical score that showcases the genius of Mozart himself and the ability of any orchestra or company that performs it. Musical Director Roland Melia’s superb nine-piece orchestra handled the material faultlessly from the wonderful overture (with all its hints of things to come) through numerous changes of mood and musical style to the end. There’s real talent among the singers in this company, and great praises on this occasion are certainly due to the imperious Queen of the Night, Barbara Gompels, who hit the high Fs in her challenging coloratura soprano aria without a hint of screech; also to Lisa House as Pamina, for the consistent quality of her sweet and powerful voice in her duets and aria; talented young tenor Matthew Bawden (especially in the light of the fact that he only stepped in to Tamino’s shoes a couple of weeks ago); the ever-reliable Jonathan Paget for his feckless but loveable Papageno; and Charles Leeming as Mayor and High Priest Sarastro, for his imposing presence, low F, and booming bass.

The whole cast stepped up to the mark vocally, individually and in chorus (if there was a bum note I certainly didn’t hear it), and in the main (wake up a bit, you lads at the back!) the acting was good. The trios of ladies and spirits were lively and amusing (great character acting from Chrissie Higgs and others), good support was given by ‘Councillor’ Ian Diddams, Stephen Grimshaw as the dodgy Monostratos was suitably creepy, and Papagena (Bryony Cox) and Papageno’s vibrant and unexpected little duet at the end of Act Two was a sheer delight.

Also to be commended was the use of lighting (Simon Stockley) with simple backdrops to create a variety of (at times genuinely spooky) atmospheres and surprises.

‘The Magic Flute’ is a peculiar thing. The more you look at it the deeper and more uncomfortable and controversial it gets, and the more you try to place it in the present day the less it belongs here. I’ve never seen it before, but I suspect that White Horse Opera’s quality production was an excellent introduction to its peculiar mysteries. It certainly went down well with the audience, and whilst the subject matter left me feeling a bit disconcerted (‘It’s not a feminist opera’ someone remarked in the interval) and wondering whether Mozart got so carried away that he forgot or didn’t think it necessary to veil his allegory, the music is undeniably sublime and I enjoyed the performance very much.

‘Outstanding!’ someone else said afterwards, and I, albeit from a layman’s viewpoint, can only agree.

Well done, White Horse Opera!

Jolly good show.

‘The Blacksmith’s Craft’; John Girvan at Wiltshire Museum

‘The Blacksmith’s Craft’ exhibition; a review

John Girvan. He’s the ghost walk guy, the man who has the Canal Forge, the bloke who writes about the dungeons, prisons, and tunnels of Devizes. He might have made your gate. You might have been to his forge with your school. You might have spotted him dressed as a Norman and wielding his massive weapon on the Market Cross. You might have seen him on the telly with Derek Acorah. You might have one of his books on your shelf.

What you may not know about him is that he once worked for Burtons, that he trained as a blacksmith under Laurence Love, that he has been a member of The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Society since he was a boy, and that until September 23^rd you can see a selection of his work in ‘The Blacksmith’s Craft’ exhibition at Wiltshire Museum on Long Street, Devizes.

I went to a short talk that John gave before looking at his pieces. He’s full of quips and anecdotes, and his delivery is gently camp and self-deprecating. He showed some old photos of himself at work in the forge (he had that Angela Rippon in there once, don’t you know). He taught us why a blacksmith’s apron has a fringe at the bottom (it’s for sweeping the anvil). He showed a video of himself hot forging a scroll. He told us that he made the bunker door at Browfort, the gates of St. Andrew’s, and the seat above the White Horse, and that he’s made a handful of chastity belts, and more weather-vanes than you can shake one of his finely forged pokers at. He spoke animatedly about his workshops with children over the years, and enthusiastically about repoussé. ‘Strike while the iron’s hot!’ he said, sparkily.

The Wiltshire Museum describes his exhibition as ‘rural traditional art’. To me John’s work falls in to four categories; practical objects / folk art (pokers, gates, metal flowers), fun stuff for kids (what child doesn’t like a cheerful robot or a cheeky spider?), experimental works, and Very Beautiful Things.

Recent experimental works include various ladies made out of chicken wire, ‘The Three Graces’ (mixed metals), and ‘Aphrodite’, the face of a woman made of mesh with metal eyes and lips. I could take or leave the lively chicken wire ladies, but ‘Aphrodite’ got better the longer you looked at her (many people did, and it was The Mayor’s favourite piece), ‘The Three Graces’ had a certain elegance to them, and the shadows cast by the sculptures on the wall greatly enhanced the effect of both works.

By Very Beautiful Things I mean the glorious sconces, the acanthus leaf, the flora and flourishes, the ‘King’s Chair’ with its delicate ironwork, the beaten copper leaves, ‘The Hand of the Smith’, the hot forged horses’ heads, the tiny fronds and spirals spinning from things, the witty little metal snakes and snails.

I’m not sure all these things belong in the same room in an ideal world, but the juxtaposition of the ‘Iron Mask’, one of the few nods to John’s interest in the macabre, with the humorous robot was interesting.

I asked John about his favourite piece. ‘You’ll laugh’ he said. Bet I don’t, I thought. ‘It’s this’ he said, and pointed to ‘Juncture’, which is ‘two dissimilar weights of steel requiring different temperatures of heat to bring them together, set in oak’.

It’s heavy. It’s light. It’s simple, complex, angular, fluid, and stark. And Very Beautiful.

John is winding down the Canal Forge these days. He’s been there since 1980. I asked him why. ‘You can’t go on forever’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye. He has a forge in his garden now, and you just know that he is going to carry on making beautiful interesting humorous things and striking while the iron’s hot until the day his fire goes out.

‘I’ve had to show people what I can do’ he said in his talk earlier.

John Girvan. Blacksmith, artist, historian, humorist.

Go and see what he can do.

gailfromdevizes

poetry, photography, prose