Music and Opera

Melissa Kite lives a Real Life The tuner who delivered the news could barely look me in the eye. After prodding at the keys of my piano for ten minutes he called me back from the kitchen where I had been making him a cup of tea. I knew the diagnosis was bad when he got up from the stool and walked towards me shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.’ It seems that for some time now my piano has been suffering from a fatal fracture brought about by central heating. Other tuners have warned me. But I just didn’t think it would ever end like

Who else reckons that Mr Darling’s plodding budget could have used a lively soundtrack? Well, here’s my recommendation: Goody Two Shoes by Adam and the Ants. The lyrics pretty much sum up the whole sorry affair! “Put on a little makeup makeup Make sure they get your good side good side If the words unspoken Get stuck in your throat Send a treasure token token Write it on a pound note pound note Goody two goody two goody goody two shoes Goody two goody two goody goody two shoes Don’t drink don’t smoke – what do you do Don’t drink don’t smoke – what do you do Subtle innuendos follow.

Megan finally gets to see The Pogues live and, happily, it’s worth the wait: Did I mention that for the actual last song, at the end of the second encore, Spider Stacy did his signature “bashing a beer tray against my head” percussion act?  I mean, it really doesn’t get much better than that.

What is a genius? We use the word frequently but surely, to guard its meaning, we should bestow it seldom. To me, a genius is a person whose gift contains an element of the inex- plicable, not to be accounted for by heredity, upbringing, background, exertions and talents, however noble. Thus, we can’t account for the extraordinary imagination of Chaucer, the vintner’s son, brought up at a military-minded court. Equally, where Shakespeare got or acquired his magic is a mystery. By contrast, Jane Austen, though one of the greatest of novelists — and my personal favourite — is a straightforward case of a clever girl, brought up in the congenial

You don’t need to like – or know anything about – rap music or cartoons to still think this is pretty neat*: *Though not entirely safe for work since it would be plastered with warning stickers in the stores. But, sod it, it’s Friday… [Thanks to reader MH for the heads-up]

There is a long tradition of the pop intelligentsia getting involved with academe or publishing — Pete Townshend’s work as an editor for Faber being the obvious example, Jah Wobble’s labours over Blake’s poetry rather less so. Sir Paul McCartney was the driving force behind the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts. The Spectator’s own Alex James is the best bassist of his generation, and lived the pop life to the full, but he also has the cerebral firepower to hold his own in an academic common room or editorial meeting. So there ought to be nothing unsettling about the Smiths’ former guitarist, Johnny Marr, becoming a visiting professor of music at

Amidst the coruscating party conference commentary might I just slip in a small musical note akin to that so enjoyed by Matthew Parris in his terrific article in this week’s Spec? He was entranced by a single phrase played on the violin, cutting through the artificial flurry and tension before the transmission of a live television broadcast. On Friday night I was similarly transported by the glory that is two people making music together. In the eastern crypt of Canterbury Cathedral, as a dirty night pressed itself up against the windows and the rain sluiced down, two old friends – friends who had been choristers together in the same cathedral

Have you Herd? If you haven’t already done so, buy a copy of Mark Earl’s Herd: How to Change Mass Behaviour By Harnessing Our True Nature  It sounds sinister, but there’s not much harnessing in it and lots of exciting ideas about what it is to be human. Mark’s thesis is that we’re basically group animals, like chimps, and that ideas and fashions spread not as a direct result of some ad campaign, but because of our instinctive desire to mimic each other. This is tremendously cheering. It means all those threatening, cajoling ads — inside mags, blocking the letterbox, thrust at you in the street — will come to

Researchers confirm that rock’n’roll stars lead unhealthy lives and die young. Shockerooni!

I have a piece in today’s Independent on the downfall of Amy Winehouse, an extended version of my post earlier this week. Which just goes to show that where Coffee House leads, the press follows.

This Tim Luckhurst piece for (who else?) The Guardian may be the dumbest thing even this professional contrarian has ever written. Apparently Elvis made “dull music for duller people” and “affection for Elvis is a workable predictor of anti-intellectual attitude”. Mr Luckhurst concludes that: The only credible claim that can be made on Elvis Presley’s behalf is that he helped introduce blues influences to a mass audience. But in a less bigoted era that would have been accomplished by authentic blues musicians. They expressed real emotions, despite origins at least as disadvantaged as his. But the world was not ready for their genius. It preferred to celebrate a dimwit instead.