St Georges Bristol

We've just finished for the year - our last concert for 2010 was in one of our favourite venues and second home, St Georges in Bristol. As always here the audience was warm and open to anything - we've brought them all our off-the-wall projects as well as most of the mainstream repertoire over the years - but lots of people emailed saying they'd like to know exactly what we played as they didn't always catch the title or composer from our announcements. So here's a list of what we and the wonderful Diana Baroni performed:

Hanacpachap Cussicuinin - Trad. Peruvian hymn

La Selosa - Trad. Peru (arr. Paul Cassidy)

Una Madre Comio Asado - Osvaldo Golijov (arr. Paul Cassidy)

Impresiones de la Puna - Alberto Ginastera

Puente de los Suspiros - Chabuca Granda (arr. Quito Gato)

The Anchor Song - Bjork (arr. Paul Cassidy)

Tenebrae - Osvaldo Golijov

Interval

La Oracion del Torero - Joaquin Turina

Around the Canela Flower - Gerardo Gandini

Maria Lando - Chabuca Granda (arr. Quito Gato)

Unravel - Bjork (arr. Paul Cassidy)

Prayer of the Heart - John Taverner

Fragile - Sting (arr. Paul Cassidy)

After the last few weeks of nearly getting caught in snow-bound airports or motorways but always narrowly escaping, we're gad to be home before the forecast arrival of more arctic weather in the UK. Looking forward to the new year which kicks off with a performance at the Royal Palace in Madrid, playing on four Strads which will be released from their vault for the occasion! Can't wait!

Enjoy the holiday season. (:

Currently high over some remote part of north-west China, three movies into the Melbourne flight......that ‘Nowhere Boy’ is just fantastic. Somehow, once you accept the trauma of actually embarking on a trip like Oz it’s kind of what travelling’s all about. A bit of suffering and endurance albeit ‘lying back’ with your feet up watching telly.

Now then, back to that night in Lucerne. I have to admit to being just a wee bit smug when I think back to how we three dealt with that rather extreme situation. While most of the other passengers were standing transfixed to the screen, trying to take in the full consequences of the word ‘cancelled’ Jacky, Ian and myself had dispersed at speed in three different directions; Ian to Easyjet (the short straw!), Jacky to the train station and me to car hire. Our main concern, apart from not getting home, was our luggage. Remember,we had checked in and our bags (unusually, because we were going home) had all our music from the trip inside. We needed that music for the upcoming week’s work. Still, we decided to forge ahead, try to get home somehow and deal with the luggage situation later.

Incredibly, as I ran through the baggage area on my way to carland I noticed out of the corner of my eye a uge pile of bags just lying there in a heap; not on a belt or in a wagon, just there on the floor, abandoned. I decided to have a very quick look and, would you believe it. found all three bags after some hunting. I threw them on a trolley and continued on my way hugely relieved if somewhat perplexed as to what on earth those bags were doing there!!!

Ian called in...nothing happening with Squeasy, Jacky too, drew a blank at the train station so it was down to me. The first three companies I tried had cars but were charging €400 plus €2000 to drop in Calais......Wow! Even, considering the nightmare of staying in Zurich and probably going through hell the next day, this seemed like, really a lot of dosh! The nice, soon to be absolutely wonderful lady at National/Alamo was just pulling down the shutter as I landed on her counter, in a state begging her to have a quick look to see if she might have a car available with French plates........she, seeing the state I was in, duly complied. Never have I been so happy to accept a Citroen ( you know. One of those rather weird looking things with no dashboard other than a vastly over-sized speedometer and a push-button handbrake...too creepy). The price €385 all-in. The only French car in the building that night. I called the others, we piled into our funny little Apolleau space moblie and set sail a la vitesse. As we exited the airport we hit solid traffic sitting stationary in the rain for over an hour/ Eventually the accident debris got cleared and armed with Minstrels, M&M’s and Revels pulled into Calais just in time to see the 06.40 head north to Blighty.

We managed to get ourselves on the next freight boat (lorry driver’s b’fasts !!), hire the last car in Dover (train exhorbitant), drop Ian at home and still get home for coffee.What an escape!

One can’t help wondering, with all the emphasis on security these days; how were we able to check in bags, find them lying abandoned and then just leave the building with them without a word.....had we been somewhere a bit less laid-back maybe...!!!!!

You can imagine, going to Valencia two days later was a bit of a worry. Particularly because the old cloud was playing ‘hide-and-seek’ over the Iberian Peninsula. Incredibly, you can’t fly direct, London-Valencia these days; potentially, double-trouble.

Anyway, it all passed smoothly apart from leaving it so late that we almost didn;t get to eat....In Valencia!! Great to play with our old pal, Joan Lluna again and to be in Valencia again. We have watched that amazing city grow over the last thirty years and remain very attached to it. Maria Angeles, our mercurial Spanish agent reminded us of days gone by there; performing nine concerts in one season and over a ten year period performing all Shostakovich, all Bartok, all Schubert and pretty much, all the 2nd Viennese School. Happy days.

Golly-gosh, these blogs are tricky to keep on top of !

After another lovely Cadogan concert, this time with the very amazing Martin Roscoe, we find ourselves back in Sweden. Now Mats, our local manager, heard we were arriving on 30th April with the kids and got very excited; he was adamant that under no circumstances should we miss the great Swedish Festival which annually marks the arrival of Spring (ooops, already forgotten the name). There would be bonfires and bbqs, choirs singing and bands playing in every town and village throughout the land. Never ones for missing out on such excitements we changed to a earlier flight, got the kids out of school earlier than planned and drove like maniacs to the far S/W of Sweden (Skane) so as not to miss even the very first spark of the joyous, life-affirming, pagan-like ritual. We found the beautiful little house in the woods that was to be our home for the next few days but spent no time there at all; staying only long enough to deposit our instruments and cases before dashing at break-neck speed to the centre of town where a sizeable crowd had indeed gathered in anticipation. Sure enough, a brass band duly arrived decked out in full regalia and out in the extremely picturesque river we could clearly see what was either 'Beaversville' or the makings of a bonfire. Now I agree it was silly of me to imagine at this point, Pete Postlethwaithe taking charge of the Black Dykes and Sylvia Kristel swinging over the rapids with a flaming torch between her teeth, in a costume that would embarrass Lady Ga-Ga but........... In truth, some town burgher lit the fire which practically burnt-out before the band had warmed their tubes! The whole thing lasted about 15mins whereupon the crowd dispersed never to be seen again.

We sneaked off to a little pizza place and finished the evening with an Irish Coffee (decaf!) in a nice little place overlooking the river.

Skinnskatterburg ( or Skin-the-cat, Skinny-dipping etc......as you like) is pretty remote by any standards (have a look if you don't believe me). We flew 2hrs north and drove another 3hrs at least through beautiful, barren landscape before we finally arrived at this charming little village by a lake. Could we find our venue??? Could we 'eck! We asked as many people as we could find but were met with blank looks. Could it be our impeccable Swedish?? surely not.....might there be another Skinnygoat?? Surely not..... Turned out , the place we were playing was actually in a place to small to even name on the itinerary; Uttersburg (or un-Uttersburg, it occured to us). It was a further 9km into nowhere but boy, was it worth the effort. Situated next to what looked like a fantastic salmon river was a small group of buildings (kind of manor house with outbuildings) that had been brilliantly converted into an artistic haven. One house, our 'dressing room' was actually a printing press and another housed a wonderful cafe, charming gallery with fascinating exhibition and upstairs, a gorgeous, intimate performing space. All around was an outdoor sculpture-park an then nothingness for miles and miles........extraordinary.

What an evening we passed there; cut short unfortunately because we had to drive back to 'civilisation' for somewhere to stay. Uttersburg had become that place which jumps up and bites you and leaves an unexpected mark on your memory. We all agreed how much we would love to return there and maybe next time spend a bit more time.

You know how you usually find out that your luggage has been lost when you arrive at your destination...well, here's a first. Ian gets onboard exclaiming that they've lost his bag !! Bloomin' 'eck, more shopping. Great but we're not in Milan or somewhere, we're in Dornbirn ! Anyway, upon arrival, poor old Ian heads off to see what he can conjure up between the ski-shops, farmer's outfitters, liederhosen etc.

Come concert time he actually looked rather fetching though we couldn't decide whether the goggles were a good idea or not.

We were playing this Mend. 6tet for vln, 2vlas,(yes, 2vlas... Ian opted for the dark goggles in the end!) cello, dble bass and piano (Piers Lane and Leon Bosch). So nice for us to sometimes have extras around to chat with provide some much-needed entertainment. The promoter there is an old friend of ours, Roland Jorg, or Van the Man as we call him due to his uncanny resemblance. He's a wonderful guy with a taste for single malt. We were all remarking how much we like the inimitable cosiness provided by those wood-panelled, perfectly sealed eateries you find in Austrian/Swiss villages.

Next day we headed for Sweden (only we 4). We returned to the rather amazing hall in Uppsala which we helped open a couple of years ago. Mats, our agent up north, met us at the airport, set us up with a spanking, top of the range Volvo (or is that Borbo!?) and we were off.

One of the features of this venue is the rather extraordinary and somewhat terrifying escalator which goes from foyer to roof, Thorpe Park style; beautifully lit and enticing. A very charming young man served us dinner in the roof-top green room. The first leg of our '10 Swedish experience was looking good!

Wonder what the chances are, statistically speaking, of turning up to Loughborough Uni. with the wrong music? Anyway, I managed to contribute to it; turning up with Op.95 instead of Shost 8. Now, in days gone by, I'd have been faced with getting in touch with home and getting someone to cut up my precious part of S8, faxing it ..... indeed, not that long ago, I'd have been at the mercy of local music shops, libraries or poor unsuspecting musicians living in the area. These days though; I call upon the services of my 14yr old who scans the music to my laptop whereupon I can simply print it off. All in a matter of minutes!! Amazing!

We had a really fun time with a bunch of local school kids before the show. They were all into music and had been brought along to our reh by a charming and enterprising teacher. If only there was a bit more of that sort of thing. School kids should be given free access to all concerts etc. in my opinion.

March 7th. Had such a lovely time in Hove. Gorgeous spring day with sun splitting the sky, even the Channel was blue and those hugely impressive white houses were at their very best. Gavin Henderson came along; always nice to see him and we played Bridge (local lad) Britten, Ravel in the round. Also fun. Snapped my Astring on last page but battled on. Even managed to do the encore without it. Had a lovely lunch afterwards with family and our old pal Stephen Clarke, who's pretty much family anyway. Then sat on the beach, walked the pier, kids did very terrifying rides while we fed 10ps into those infernal machines. Watched the sun set, had tea and drove home listening to Sophie Hits Seven......hmmm, ace.

Friday 19th March. Some of us did a little session this morning for an album by the well-known Fishermen's Friends ....... what, you hadn't heard of them?? Really lovely bunch of Cornish fishermen who get together post trawl and sing their hearts out. Check out the main man who makes Lee Marvin sound like Britney. (hmmm, on reflection....)

By the way, some of us also played on the latest Peter Gabriel cd 'Scratch my Back'. That's a very beautiful and powerful album. No drums or electrics but our good friend, John Metcalfe's gorgeous arr.s make up for that.

Anyway, later that evening we head off to Bilbao on Vueling. Nice airline but they managed to lose my and Jacky's suitcase leaving us with no alternative but to scoot off to the local Dominguez store at a pace (only for concert dress material of course!). On arrival, found it was the last day of their rather superb sale. Called Daniel and Ian and all but emptied the store, as you will see should you attend a gig anytime soon. Concert hall was right next to the famous Transporter Bridge. There's only one other in the world and guess where it is ........ Middlesbrough !! Yes. True home of the BQ. Jacky and Ian got very emotional. Daniel and I did our best.

Cello seat! - pronounced "jealousy" (of musicians with small instruments)

Last week we took 6 flights in three days to perform in three different countries. Seasoned travelers wouldn't flinch at such an itinerary, but cellists will be seeing the writing on the wall. Reporting to departures with a cello destined for a seat in the cabin almost always causes check-in staff to go into headless chicken mode and start making endless phone calls to mysterious hidden beings within the airport. BA are supreme at this - frequently finding that their system has registered the ticket as unpaid-for and demanding on-the-spot payment regardless of our assertions that we have already paid (through the nose). On Tuesday this led to my not being allowed to fly with them - by the time they were ready to take my second payment for the seat it was too late to go through. With a connecting flight in Rome to Sicilly this made my day rather complicated... luckily Alitalia were able to accommodate me and my bulky friend via Milano (for the price of a whole new ticket of course), but for a while there the concert was in jeopardy, all for a flaw in BA's ticketing system. I do wish they'd sort it out.

(Note to cellists - BA have finally joined the real world and changed their in-seat securing procedure of said instrument to a simple extension seatbelt instead of the previously prescribed 5 kilometers of blue nylon rope which we would have to spend the entire flight unravelling if we were to have a chance of leaving the plane on arrival before it took off again!) (Further note to cellists - Ryanair have finally come clean with their actual attitude to our vulnerable cargo: the official line is "Sod off and find another airline, we can't be bothered with cellos"). ("Oh, but we'll happily sell the seats to your fiddling comrades".)

I do love to fly unencumbered... it happens all too rarely but makes a holiday all the more glorious.

The rest of the trip went smoothly and we enjoyed the diversity of climates and venues from one night to the next - Palermo's grand Opera House to Herisau (Switzerland) and its tiny intimate chamber room to the fabulous acoustic of the Auditorio in Madrid. All three were a treat. The week ended with a long-awaited glimpse of some beautiful spring weather and a trip to the seaside for Brighton's Old Market Trust music society and a tribute to Frank Bridge. Being the weekend, the kids came too and we followed the concert with a ride on the Pier ghost train and munched doughnuts as the sun set over the glittering sea.