Schwanengesang

About ten days ago now, to the Wigmore to hear Bostridge and Vogt do the Schwanengesang (D957) with the new-to-me Eisamkeit (D620) popped between the two halves of the first piece. Rather as with the rendering of 'Die schhöne Müllerin' noticed at reference 1, the promoters were keen to point up the origins of the work, with the two halves, the first settings of a group of poems by Rellstab, and the second settings of a group of poems by Heine, with one by Seidel ('Die Taubenpost') tacked on the end. With it all being brought together posthumously by Schubert's publisher. I might say that while I find 'Die Taubenpost' a very fine song, I also find its content, its words, a bit creepy, with the singer far too keen on poking his nose into his girl's private affairs. Almost to the point of what today is called stalking. But perhaps German romantics were like that.

Started off the proceedings with a snooze in the afternoon. After which it did not seem nearly as cold out as it had in the morning. There was also a trolley in Station Approach, although it had gone by the time I got around to going back for it, a day or so later.

All this being at the same time as the post at reference 3 was germinating, I was interested in the substantial halos I was getting around the lights on the platform, the product of the steam on my spectacles, mask being up by this point. Rainbow haloes around the white lights, monochrome halos - red and orange at this point - around the coloured lights. All right and proper.

Locomotive variety in the form of a three car unit heading for town on the Waterloo line, with the middle unit including a large tank. Presumably some kind of line cleaning operation.

The Wigmore is continuing with cut price programmes which you can print at home, which I had done, with the result that I could read over the songs during the train ride. Maybe some of them would stick firmly enough to inform the subsequent hearing. At least I would know something of what they were about, what they were on about. That is to say farewells, yearnings for absent loves, lost loves, solitude and death. Plenty of tears, plenty of water generally.

Preliminary visit to the Cock and Lion where we had the unusual spectacle of a youngish lady collapsing at the bar. She had asked me for the time in a slightly distracted way, while I was at the bar, and I had thought nothing of it, but by the time I was sitting down, down she went. Her friends retrieved her, and from a distance normal conversation appeared to resume. I thought perhaps that they had been going to a while, perhaps since early afternoon, it now being a little past seven.

For the second time in several years, the first time being noticed at reference 4, I noticed the four clocks above the bar. My thought on this occasion was that on the last occasion they had been working, telling one the time of day around the world, but checking with reference 4 reveals this not to have been the case. Not working then either. Memory lets me down again.

Found what looked like a car key on the threshold as I left and a chap in a cheerful group nearby was very glad to get it back. Having recently lost a car key, something I know all about.

Into the fairly full hall. One lady up front with a complicated hairdo and what looked like an expensive fur coat. More a mantle, which one might have thought was a bit warm indoors, but perhaps she was older or more ill than she looked and was feeling the cold. Something else I know more about than I used to.

While behind me we had a middle aged couple, the gentleman half of which seemed to like moaning. Didn't like Bostridge, never heard of Vogt and not keen on the Schwanengesang. Otherwise quite nice to be back in the Wigmore Hall. He got seriously cross when the concert was about 10 minutes late starting, going to the length of summoning an usher and telling him that some people had dinners to go to afterwards. He also turned out to be a fiddler with his programme, although not as bad as some. 

More Cock and Lion at the interval, which was not quite as busy as it had been earlier. No Johnny Walker that I could see, no Bells - and the only whisky that I recognised was Monkey Shoulder, so I took a drop of that.

Back for the second half. I thought Bostridge was in good form, looking and sounding suitably anguished. Lots of power and control. He also had some music hidden away inside the piano, which we could see because of its reflection in the highly polished lid. Didn't seem to make much if any use of it; more a prop than anything else. They earned two short encores, something I have mixed feelings about after this sort of recital, but they went down well enough. While the audience generally seemed a bit stunned. Mr. Grumpy had gone by this point, so perhaps they slipped out before the encores.

For some reason I was slightly distracted by the way the the closing notes of the accompaniments closed. They didn't just stop, or fade away. Rather it was as if they were being turned off at a switch in a way which gave the end of the note in question a slight tweak. Some quirk of the piano? Of the pianist? Must listen out for it again.

Did the 65 or so steps out of Vauxhall which left me a bit stunned, particularly when I had done to 35 or so more up to the overground platform. Thought about the Falcon at Clapham Junction, but settled for the Half Way House at Earlsfield. Which turned out to be busier than usual with maybe fifteen customers scattered about the place. A healthy looking mixture.

Back on the platform, there were more halos and this time I decided that the monochrome halos were the same size as the corresponding band of the rainbow halos - which I think is how it ought to be, but which they had not seemed to be back at Epsom.

The bookcase had vanished from the waiting room at Raynes Park and the good supply of not very promising looking books was arranged along the windows. Access denied, apparently for redecoration. Hopefully both access and bookcase will come back.

By this time the red and green lights had become speckled, as if what I was seeing were the individual droplets of water on my spectacles. Whereas the white lights had become stars, Christmas decorations rather than halos. And I learned that the front lights of trains were actually hexagons of small hexagons, these last having maybe three small bulbs to a side. Not a matter that either Bing or Google was able to help with, so something else to be checked properly on the next occasion. 

Last up, following the Bromptons of reference 4, another Brompton. And I realised that part of the answer was that the crank of the pedals and the folding of the back wheel were not on the same axis and that they were at least a few inches apart - so the chain did change length when the back wheel was folded inside. Maybe it would be difficult to make the two axles strong enough if their axes coincided. As can be seen on the snap above.

Home to a spot of white wine and the stump of a banana cake, this last having served ladies that lunch earlier in the day.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/11/folk-at-temple.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/11/an-evening-outing.html. The first Brompton.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/12/on-seeing-colour-some-science-fiction.html.

Reference 4: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/06/trouts.html.