Musical musings

Last week, from 8-16 October, I was travelling for a combination of work and play. I did two 'musical' things during the journey.

The first was that I read Sting's autobiography, Broken Music. It was, as I suspected it would be, a moving and well-written account of his journey from childhood to the brink of stardom with The Police. His lyrics have always been favourites of mine; his prose did not disappoint.

Incidentally, I returned home to the copy of his new Songs from the Labyrinth that I had ordered from Amazon. Songs of John Dowland, the Elizabethan popular songwriter. Lovely stuff--so often, Dowland's music is sung by voices denote people who cannot possibly be mature enough to have suffered love, desire, loss, and still maintain hope. It is a real treat to hear these songs performed by someone who is obviously a grown man with some experience of life. I highly recommend both the book and the disc.

The second musical thing I did was, during a visit to Durham, I heard the local Sinfonia play at the Cathedral. Although it's not the best acoustic setting for orchestral music, it's still magnificent to be in such fine surroundings--the work of great talents and great devotions, both in music and in stone. The programme was Vaughan Williams' Serenade to Music, Brahms' Violin Concerto, and Shostakovich's Symphony no. 5.

Between Sting and the Sinfonia, though, I'm struck by a paradox. Popular music is generally performed only by an elite few, and appreciated (albeit on various levels) by a vast number of people. Orchestral music, on the other hand, can be performed by a much larger number of people (indeed, demands it); so long as enough people can be assembled to play with good tone, in tune, and in time, in the right combination of instruments, a decent concert can be staged. And yet, somehow, there is a much tighter ratio between the number of performers and that of appreciative listeners.

So, the question I have--which is the 'elite' music, and which is the music 'of the people'?

Being Generous to Bishop Wilberforce

A few days ago, we had an 'open day' for people from the community to come and 'check out' the College, with an eye to promoting our facilities as a place for people to consider holding meetings, conferences, quiet days or workshops. It concluded with a really wonderful luncheon, and a few members of staff were asked along.

I ended up sitting next to a lovely lady who had worked in bookselling and publishing, and we were directly under the gaze of Bishop Wilberforce, whose portrait hangs in the dining hall of the College. She talked briefly about having read many of Wilberforce's papers from his episcopate (including his founding of this College), and said that he must have been a 'thumping good bishop', and it was a shame that his most legacy popularly rests on the unfortunate public comments made to Thomas Huxley in the Darwinian controversy.

In our brief conversation, we talked about how much change a Bishop of Oxford must have been coping with in the mid-19th century--industrialisation, urbanisation, stirrings towards women's suffrage, and a host of other things. I think every human being has a limit to how much change she or he can cope with before they say 'not one more thing!' And it was unfortunate that Wilberforce is most remembered for the point where he said 'not one more thing!'

All of us have our limits, and they will be met at different points, concerning different issues, and we won't always meet them with grace. But we all hope that we will be remembered for the times we've faced change, doubt and uncertainty with grace and good humour, rather than frustration and (what I hope must have been) an attempt at humour, even an unsuccessful and somewhat acidic attempt.

So, I'm willing to be a little generous towards Bishop Wilberforce, even if it's a bit on the late side. I hope I'll be able to be a little generous to those whose 'not one more thing' may differ from my own.