Oxford, Paris, and other things

 At the moment, there is a fantastic programme about Martha Argerich's life on France Musique. Martha Argerich une pianiste libre in 7 episodes. I've been listening to it at work as I've been doing some recataloguing of collection. What a life she has had. I have been very lucky to have seen her a few times playing in Paris, I'm not sure playing what, I only knew it was not French otherwise I would have remembered (sorry!). A piano concerto -was it Brahms? Did he write concertos for piano?- and some chamber music, which I enjoyed more.  I'm not sure where it was either that chamber music, a modern place, and she was not playing then during the concert. We are seated towards the back of the room and listening to music sans Martha when I heard some footsteps behind me and then nothing. I turned and looked, it was her, seating on the steps and listening to her friends playing.  I had heard, perhaps it was from someone at the Conservatoire, that she used to live in a b

 After the pub and on my way back to South Oxfordshire, I bumped into a few dancers... here are some pictures... and of course, as often, monsieur Greenman

 I see today in the Guardian that the French court decides Ravel did not have help to compose Bolero . Oh well great, he wrote this on his own... but I can't help thinking, knowing and loving Maurice Ravel for so long, that so much of his music is coming from other influences... like other composers I suppose but still... why would the royalties monies just go to the Ravel heirs?  Why not??? Cuba for the Bolero , Spain for the Rhapsodie Espagnole and l'heure Espagnole , Madagascar for Les chansons madécasses , and the whole of the African American community for all the jazzy bits in his music? Le concerto en sol , le concerto pour la main gauche , bits of l'heure Espagnole and of la sonate pour violon et piano ... There are quite a few classical music composers inspired by jazz, Gershwin, Debussy, Bernstein , you name it     It's a bit like Disney taking from the folklore and making films out of it... only I don't feel that 'stealing' beauty and the be

  Glimpses of Chris working under the sun Digging a hole because that was fun A pond? No. It became a swimming pool And there were jumps into the cool   of OX4 parties his young Werther look with sorrow sometimes, sometimes not his chiselled jaws and square glasses and did he wear a wig once? Goethe am Oxford   The cheekiness of Chris… I remember us two gazing metaphorically in front of a neon he had just planted into the soil at an exhibition in the Botanic gardens and we quoted Derrida and Bourdieu yeah right or one of them anyway while the intelligentsia gathered near us to gasp and discuss this piece of ….    shit I forgot what I wanted to say, oh yeah, that’s it The seriousness of Chris always ordering The same chicken tikka dish at Dosa Till last time I saw him, it was different then,  A faraway look, and no meat

  Fairacres is a funny place, exotic almost, to my eyes. It is both a carpark and a retail centre. Well in fact the carpark is for the retail centre. If you are luck enough to walk there in the morning there are no cars yet, apart from a few employees.  It was born not long ago, at least for the Easter part, as you can see from this timelapse video dating from 2021 The shops... there’s nothing exotic about them. It’s the same shops you find everywhere in the UK, or perhaps just England, I don’t know: Dreams, a shop for mattresses and all things related to sleeping; Pets at Home, a shop for everything related to animals including a veterinary centre; B&M a discount shop selling from food to toys to any house related gadget including vapes, I go there sometimes if I have a vape liquid crisis; a gym, don’t ask me the name I forgot, but walking near there in rush hour, you pass near people with not much one, running or walking on a treadmill; Homebase, a décor shop with painting, f

 I have three Rebecca Solnit in my backpack, it must be love! So yes, in my bag I have (apart from my notebook, a scarf, two multicoloured pens, one highlighter and probably, right at the bottom of it, a condom which expired some time in the last century...): Wanderlust , a voyage reminiscing of all the walkers out there who also write  A Field Guide to Getting Lost a mix of personal memories and philosophical thought and walking of course, is the desert for Solnit the same as the Parisian arcades for Walter Benjamin? The Faraway Nearby   a series of stories, so far based on her mother (I haven't checked a synopsis as it might spoil my fun) And yesterday, apart from a quick work meeting online which lasted 5 minutes (joy!), I found the time to search the web for interviews with her. Very pleasant, and pleasant also to discover new people (this guy with an accent as strong as mine, Paul Holdengräber). So here she is speaking with him at the New York Public Library: Pleasant also t