78. Dreamy Delius and Triumphant Tchaikovsky.

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If you're a regular listener, you will by now be very familiar with the introductory words to this podcast. And I know that it's time for it to be updated. In a couple of weeks, a new, and I think very well-known voice will take over from Alice, to whom I remain enormously grateful for helping me to get it onto the airwaves. You will notice, I hope, a change in the sound quality then as well. Despite being told of the contrary, I've only recently discovered that the sound is not coming out of full stereo. That's a minor thing when it comes to my voice, but when it comes to the music, I think whatever genre we're listening to, if we are using headphones, as I know many of you are, we like the feeling of being completely immersed in the sound. I hope you'll enjoy the changes when they come, which could be during May. Over many years of concert going, it's pretty obvious that when programme setters are introducing new music to their awards, they will not only pair it with a well-known crowd feature, but put it in the first half to make sure that the hole doesn't thin out at the interval. And that's the sort of approach I'm going to take today, even if I doubt that many of you will be at all familiar with what I'm going to serve up as my crowdpiter at the end. The first thing to say is that you have little chance of appreciating my first half of the programme if you're out on a run or listening on a smart speaker with others in the room. If I had to choose an ideal location, it would be outside on your own, preferably in the countryside, but if not, at least with some nature around you. I think you'll see why when we get to the music. Fritz, later Frederick Delius, who lived between 1862 and 1934, was born to German parents in Bradford. His music has never really found its way into the classical music canon, and I suspect will never become, for want of a better word, fashionable, despite noble efforts by the society set up in its name and also its greatest champion, the English conductor Sir Thomas Beachon. The difficulty lies in the fact that although its music is instantly recognizable, it's in a style which is entirely of its own making. It has no obvious musical grammar or structure, like its classical or romantic predecessors. If you're looking for some kind of form, you won't find it. There are melodies, certainly, but the only way to come to grips with it, or even come close to appreciating it, is not to try and deconstruct it, just let the sounds waft over you. I know that some of you are not going to like this, but I also know that some of you are going to absolutely love it. The rhapsody, Brig Fair, marks the full development of his style, drawn from spiritual music and American orange plantations, as well as European influences, the most notable of whom was the Norwegian Edvard Grieg. We actually had Grieg to thank for persuading Delitz's his own father, who wanted him to follow in the cotton family business, that he should allow him to pursue his future in music. Those of you who know on hearing the first cocoa in the spring will detect some of that in the opening minute or two. A pizza, which was to follow a few years later. As I'd say, don't look too hard, but also don't fail to miss some amazing and wholly unexpected harmonies. The pizza also has a clear momentum, and when the springs come in, they bring with them a noticeable lushness of sound. Greenery and trees in full leaf. It's a combination which caused one commentator to observe that these exquisite idylls for all the composers German descent and French domicile spell England to most of their listeners. Dilip, a human being, doesn't sound to have been the nicest of blokes. He stayed married to one lady but had countless affairs which he put up with, causing another commentator settled grey to remark. Strange how often a man's work is the opposite of his human personality. Delize, as a man, was as hard as nails, cold and cynical. One little surprise awaited me in my brief research. When he died, Diliff had wanted to be buried in his garden in France. But the authorities there said no. As an alternative, he mentioned that a quiet churchyard in the southeast of England would do just as nicely. And so came to be that after his initial buried in France, his remains were brought over to this country and interred in the graveyard just 15 minutes from my front door, St. Peter's Church in Lentfield, which, again, something I didn't know, also happens to be the final resting place of its greatest champion, Sir Thomas Beecham. The theme of the piece is based around words and music set by his friend Percy Granger about a young man going to the fair in search of love. Anyway, see what you think, or perhaps notice what you imagine might be better advice. Breakfair by Friedrich Dealers is played here by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in a nineteen fifty-eight recording.

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Good afternoon, Mel.

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Good afternoon, before you start thinking, oh great, he's about to play Charkotsky's Paniconcerto number one, I have to disappoint you. Even though the temptation to continue with that pulsating recording with Mata Arkovich is almost impossible to resist. You'll notice if you listen to it again how you can barely wait to get going, and it's a really good idea. But of course some methods it might take away that. Because Tchaikovsky wrote two more projects for Canada Orchestra. The third one, which never heard performed, started its life for Stephanie Symphony, but ended up being a single movement for Canada Orchestra, to which Tchaikovsky titled Allegro Belante. There are only two or three themes, the opening one returning at the end, with some trade by Tchaikovsky romantic passages in the orchestra, which really are quite symphonic in nature, as well as a sort of restless, slightly impatient dance-like melody. You'll know by now that I enjoy a bit of triviality every so often. You'll also know that I'm no musicologist, but here's a silly observation I just can't help sharing. Listen to this. What on earth? I mean, he's really lost it now. It is, of course, the innocuous and frankly highly offensive doorbell sound, which I get to encounter myself on any doorstep, but has grazed many a front door in suburban television comedies. Well, next time you hurt, you'll know that someone came up with those two announcement notes many years previously, because it's exactly how Tchaikovsky starts a third concerto. Another thing I pick up in one of these themes is a hint of Willkommen Bianu Welcome from Cabaret some eighty years later. Before you start thinking it's time for me to go in search of my marbles, here is Tchaikovsky's third and effervescent piano concerto played by Michael Ketna with a Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vladimir Felicia. I was trying to recall where I'd heard it before, and he adopts a very similar approach to the closing bars of his fourth symphony. Anyway, that's all from me for now. I'll be back again next week with some more goodies for you. But in the meantime, you can listen to Perfect Pitch on your favorite platform, where you can also catch up on all the previous episodes as well as if you feel so inclined, rate and comment on the podcast. Please don't be shy and share your comments with me. I want to hear from experts or newbies alike.