Rob Fenwick
a Northumbrian abroad
a Northumbrian abroad
Jun 13th
Quite often I find myself driving home in the late evening, listening to Sue Marchant on radio Suffolk. One of her set piece questions is to ask her main guest where in time and space they would choose to travel if they could make a single trip in a TARDIS. It is a question that is simultaneously rather narrow (even geeky), and huge (sometimes inspirational) in scope.
I know what my answer would be. To the Chapel Royal of 1568, and lunch with Thomas Tallis. Like many enthusiasts of Tallis and his incredible composition Spem in Alium, I have questions I’d like to put to him. Not least of which is the piece’s relationship with Allesandro Striggio’s Ecce Beatam Lucem (embedded above).
Historial records indicate that Ecce was composed for a first performance in 1561, possibly a royal wedding. So far as we know, Spem was first performed seven or eight years later at Arundel house. As relatively little is known about the history of Spem a plausible if not definitive theory has gained currency – namely that the Duke of Norfolk, on becoming aware of Striggio’s work, commissioned Tallis to compose a work of equal or greater scale and complexity as a birthday gift to Elizabeth I.
While Tallis’s work makes a more finely developed use of counterpoint and spine-tingling antiphone, has seen greater enduring success, and could be argued to be technically superior, I prefer (on no rational basis whatsoever) to see the pieces as siblings. For example, both use the same technique of building steadily to great tutti moments – Striggio on the “O” of O mel et dulce nectar (oh honey of sweet nectar), and Tallis on the “respice” of respice humilitatem nostram (look upon our humiliation / lowliness).
But the killer commonality is the modesty. For me you will find it in the score of Ecce, and in the story of Spem. At the time he chose the words to use as a basis of Spem in Alium, a plea to the almighty to watch over us in our lowliness, Tallis was at the zenith of his career – a musical giant who had survived numerous seismic shifts in the religious and political fabric of England. He could have been forgiven an inclination towards triumphalism, particularly given his royal audience.
When I listen to Ecce Beatam Lucem it is the last minute which blows me away. The whole piece is a joy on the ears, but as the piece approaches what could be a rousing finale with the words “This delight, this peace, this goal, this mark. Draw us from here straight to Paradise” the dynamics take the deliciously unexpected turn of slipping away from us – ever diminishing until the final word paradisum -paradise – is almost a whisper. There are no such dynamics written in to the scores I have. I would love to know if this is interpretation, or the will of the composer. In either case it’s little short of genius.
May 30th
Regular readers of my blog will know that I am an enthusiast of Thomas Tallis’s work for fourety voices, Spem in Alium. If you haven’t heard it performed live there is an opportunity coming up in just a few weeks, for those who have no objection to attending evensong.
If you are north of the border you can hear Spem in Scotland on 2 July at the East Neuk festival, I’ll be there at the generous invitation of friends.
Then a week later there is what true artists call “a real humdinger” of a concert at Southwark Cathedral. I’ll be attending this one too – it will be very interesting to hear how the forty individual voices are able to fill a space as cavernous as Southwark.
Mar 16th
Every couple of months I drive up to Orford – it’s one of those rare places in the UK where the sky seems a little bigger, and the light a little warmer. Watching over the village is the arresting Orford Ness lighthouse.
One cold afternoon in January I stumbled on the news that Orford Ness lighthouse had been recommended for closure, and had an idea. An idea which, thanks to Twitter, I could simultaneously share with the world and pitch directly to Radio 4 continuity announcer and Suffolk-born man Zeb Soanes:
What began and ended with a few casual (and easily forgotten) keystrokes for me was the beginning of a chain of thought and real time commitment for Zeb, so it’s really pleasing that by his own account he had an enjoyable time reading an excerpt of the shipping forecast from the lighthouse this morning.
This recording is from today’s Lesley Dolphin show on BBC Radio Suffolk and yes, of course, I blushed a little at the name check.
Feb 28th
As I begin to write this I’m on an East Coast train with the Tyne Bridge to disappearing to my left. When heading back down south there’s always a sense that I’m leaving behind a special place. I guess many people feel a close connection with where they were born, but above and beyond that the reason I bang on (and on and on) about Northumberland to people from further afield is that I really think it’s one of the most beautiful places in the country.
So if you’ve never been, I thought I’d try and lure you with five possible reasons why Northumberland might one day win you over, with the aid of the interweb:
If I can be cheeky and squeeze in a sixth, and one you can’t easily prove online, I’d say one of the defining characteristics of Northumberland and the North East is that though life is still hard for a good many people (and there are parts of the area where you can see poverty deeply etched on the faces of the residents) you’re never too far from a smile from a stranger. We were brought up proper, we were.
Feb 25th
This year’s Association for Cultural Enterprises annual convention included a number of workshop strands with the strap ’10 things you need to know but never dared ask’ – my thanks to the delegates who chose to attend my session on the digital world. 45 minutes isn’t long to squeeze in ten things, but we made it!
Thanks to Stephen Waddington of Speed Communications, Deirdre Molloy at the Chartered Institute of Management Accountants and Mark Pack of Mandate for inspiring different parts of the presentation.
Below you’ll find a copy of my slide deck, with some explanatory notes added in red.
The digital world: ten things you need to know but never dared ask
Feb 20th
If you haven’t already listened to Radio 5 Live’s interview with Sir Nicholas Winterton, which followed on the heels of a similar interview with Total Politics, have a listen to that BBC interview now.
The story which broke on Thursday was still rolling two days later, as I woke to a debate on my local radio station asking “should MPs travel first class?” It won’t surprise you that when asked the question in the context of Winterton’s outburst, most callers were of the opinion that MPs should be made to travel standard class. In fact, sod standard class, they should be dragged on a rope attached to the back of the train while working people queue up to use the toilet (between stations, naturally).
Yet, as someone who commutes five days per week in standard class, I find Winterton’s point uncontroversial when examined dispassionately.
First – it is in the nature of many people (myself included) to look over the shoulder of people who are reading / using a computer, in any environment. We are natural nosey parkers. This is something I lamented last month while checking my inbox on the gay social networking site Thingbox, whilst on a train. (Those of a sensitive disposition should note that the screenshot contains some rather close to the bone humour, and, ahem, strident language. I have concealed the identities of the guilty.)
In first class, most train companies put three seats in to a space which would take five seats in standard class. Many customers will have their own table. Just as a point of logistics it is harder to rubber-neck the papers / screens of your fellow travellers. It could also be argued that there is a culture of discretion. As MPs often help those who are in the most dire of straits, we should consider whether casework correspondence in particular could be read in standard class.