Thursday, 9 July 2026

First Meeting - Ronnie Scott's, London

We're off to Ronnie Scott's to see Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Chris Potter, Larry Grenadier and Eric Harland - a genuine all-star modern jazz quartet.

The group formed around their first live four-night collaboration at Dizzy's Club in New York in 2022.  Dizzy's is one of a number of performance spaces in the Deutsche Bank Center run by Jazz at Lincoln Center, and the quartet was assembled specifically for that booking.  The idea had come from Jason Olaine, Vice President of Programming at JLC, who wanted to bring together these specific four musicians for a new collaboration. The story goes that they had only one brief rehearsal before the run. 

Fortunately, the final set of the run was captured for an album - "First Meeting: Live at Dizzy’s Club" ; in fact, it was doubly fortunate, in that the group thereafter named themselves "First Meeting", after the album - which is clearly a whole lot easier to say and write than "Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Chris Potter, Larry Grenadier and Eric Harland"…

Of the four, Cuban pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba was the only one we hadn't seen before - though I've had a couple of his CDs for years.  He's been described as "one of the most technically formidable jazz pianists of his generation", so I was excited to see him in action.

We'd seen saxophonist Chris Potter just once - at the Royal Festival Hall on 18th November 2002.  Potter and his band were supposed to be opening the London Jazz Festival, supporting the pianist Brad Mehldau's trio, but travel delays caused by bad weather in Europe meant that Potter's band arrived late (about which, more later…) and Mehldau - although headlining - had to play first.  

As a result of the delay, Potter's set was cut to around 45 minutes, but he still made an impression.  Interestingly, when I look back at the other members of Potter's band that night, I see three names with whom I was largely unfamiliar at the time, but who have since become, if not "household names", certainly worthy of attention in their own right - but that's for another time.

Bassist Larry Grenadier is probably best known for his long association with Mehldau, and we've seen him playing in Mehldau's band many times over the years.  They parted ways (by all accounts, quite amicably) a few years ago, but I still miss his playing with Mehldau, so tonight would be a welcome opportunity to see him play again.

We'd seen drummer Eric Harland just once before, in July 2014 - also at Ronnie Scott's, in bassist Dave Holland's band Prism; Harland played an absolute storm that night and I spent quite some time afterwards watch YouTube videos of him playing live in that band in different venues. I was looking forward to seeing him again.

And so, back to tonight - or rather, initially - this afternoon.

We were due to travel down on the 15.13.  Luckily for us, this service was running - trains before and after ours were cancelled at short notice.  It has to be said that the introduction of the new "Aurora" Class 810 fleet operated by EMR has been utterly shambolic, and today was no exception (about which, more later...).

We got in to London at 16.27 and went straight out to the rank to grab a cab - there was no way we were prepared to endure the underground on a day when the peak daytime temperature was predicted to be around 32°C.  

When visiting Ronnies I usually ask the cabbie to drop us on Denmark Street, near the junction with Charing Cross Road.  This avoids the time (and expense) of the cab having to negotiate the crowded one-way streets of Soho and, depending on the time available, we can then either spend a few minutes in Foyles, or simply carry straight on to Ronnies on Frith Street.  This cabbie was on the ball - "Are you going to buy a guitar?".

In the early years of the 20th century, Denmark Street became London's equivalent of Tin Pan Alley as the centre of Britain's music publishing industry; over time it evolved into a mecca for guitarists, with shops supplying everyone from beginners to major rock stars including Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton.  Although redevelopment has changed the area, it remains the UK's best-known concentration of specialist guitar shops.

I explained that if I had had both the talent and the money I might have been, but in fact we were just visiting the area, and we set off.  Almost immediately we could sense that the city traffic was crawling, and by the time we reached Bloomsbury Street we ground to a halt and watched the meter tick away our savings…  Eventually the cabbie became so embarrassed by the delays that he switched the meter off; there followed a brief discussion of options, a quick U-turn and he dropped us at the end of Bedford Avenue as close to Tottenham Court Road as he could and we set off on the rest of our journey (TCR - Oxford Street - Soho Street - Soho Square - Frith Street) on foot.

In spite of the heat we made it to Ronnies just after 17.15 and joined the queue - with less than 15 minutes until the doors opened (or so we thought).  

A few minutes later, one of the security guys walked slowly along the queues (there's a second queue on the other side of the door for members), announcing quietly "there'll be a 15 minute delay before the doors open".

Fifteen minutes came and went.  Suddenly a people carrier came tearing down Frith Street from Soho Square, pulled up opposite the main door of Ronnies and a troop of people and bags disappeared inside - the band, arriving very late.

As we expected, we were then further delayed in gaining admittance while the band set up and performed what must have been only the most rudimentary of sound-checks.  Later, during the set, Rubalcaba noted that their plane had arrived from Italy in plenty of time, but a 20-minute delay in being assigned a gate and then further delays in picking up Harland's cymbals at the baggage reclaim area had resulted in their late arrival - so this would be the second time we had seen Chris Potter, and the second time he was delayed getting in from the continent...

Once again, the security guys walked along the queues, keeping us up to date.  When he got to us he paused.  "Are you here to see Jamie Cullum?". Now, I have nothing against that particular tiny troubadour, but the look on my face and the tone of my voice when replying with a strangled and indignant "No!" made both him and Amanda smile - how VERY dare he! I assumed that Jamie was playing "Upstairs at Ronnies" (though it did seem unlikely to me that such a major star would be playing there without me being aware of it), and that the security guy was simply trying to assess the number of people going to each of the two gigs.

However, as we approached the door I could see the cause of confusion - my questioner had confused Jamie Cullum and Jamie Safir:

Finally, the doors were opened and we slowly made our way inside.

Our favourite table - which I had requested at the time of booking - was already allocated - no doubt to a member - but the alternative we were assigned was actually closer to the action, and perfectly acceptable.

The stage:

The view to our left:

Drinks:

Drinks and food ordered, we settled back and waited for the action.  

Two happy bunnies (for now):

It’s always a pretty hectic operation to get everyone fed and watered in the time between the doors opening and the band hitting the stage.  For that reason, I was hoping that the house would use some common sense and adjust the evening's schedule, to allow time for people at the first sitting to at least stand some chance of eating their meal before the band came on.  Somewhat disappointingly, they decided to stick rigidly to their original timetable, so the guys walked on stage at precisely 18.40. 
 
From that point on, it was definitely an evening of two halves. The band were superb; with a setlist that was effectively the same as that captured on the live CD recorded at Dizzy's they played up a storm and made me wish that we had booked to see both sets.  

Sadly, for perhaps the only time in our many visits, Ronnies let us down miserably.  When our food had failed to appear by 30 minutes into the set we enquired as to its whereabouts; our waiter scurried off and quickly reappeared looking somewhat flustered, claiming that "there is a problem with the ticket machine" and saying that he "would take our order now"...  We responded as one: "Forget it" – neither of us wanted the distraction of having to shovel our meal down while the band ended their set and the house staff tried to hurry us out to accommodate the second sitting.  Since we appeared to be the only table sans food I was not really convinced by his explanation, and suspected that the cause was better described by the phrase often used in computer support - "Fault lies between the keyboard and the chair".

So – "nul points" for Ronnies and a further demerit for not even offering to comp our (very modest) drinks bill for the evening.  An appropriate review was later posted on TripAdvisor – live by the sword, die by the sword.

Buzzed by the music, we sauntered out into the still very warm evening, confident that nothing else would go wrong...

A brisk walk down to Shaftesbury Avenue where we easily caught a cab which got us to St Pancras in plenty of time for our train at 21.32 - one of the advantages of the early set at Ronnies is that we get home at a reasonable time.  We picked up a variety of refreshments (having not eaten for around 10 hours) and headed up to the platform concourse - and bedlam.
  • We were in the middle of a heatwave.  
  • Extreme heat can and does cause travel problems due to the expansion and warping of continuous welded rail.  
  • East Midlands Railways are in the middle of swapping from their ageing Class 222 Meridian fleet to a fleet of 33 Hitachi Rail five-car bi-mode trains (able to run on both electricity and diesel).  
  • The transition is not going well.  
It was a perfect storm.

The marketing and brand name chosen by EMR for the new fleet is Aurora, and is intended to evoke ideas of a new dawn for rail travel in the East Midlands, cleaner operation (using electric power wherever the line is electrified) and a brighter, more modern passenger experience.  Based on our experiences thus far, I rather suspect that Ordure would have been a more appropriate name.

As we got to the top of the escalator up to the platform concourse we were met by chaos.  Trains into London (and therefore destined to form the next trains out of London) had been delayed or cancelled.  The delays appear to have been caused by "operating difficulties"; the cancellations had been caused by there being "insufficient trains available for operation due to ongoing technical issues with the new fleet".  Hundreds of people were variously milling, queueing, wandering around aimlessly or frozen to the spot.

With the best part of an hour to wait for our scheduled departure we managed to find somewhere to sit and watch the hordes, most of whom were looking expectantly at the departures board, the gates and anything or anyone who looked as if they might conceivably be able to make sense of it all.  Our late supper concluded, Amanda got up to take our rubbish to the nearest bin, while I stayed behind to guard our precious seats.  She returned a few minutes later and said "our train is boarding".  I looked across and for the first time in memory, saw every barrier open, no staff checking tickets, no indication of which train on which platform was serving which destination – and hundreds of people surging forward towards two trains on adjacent platforms (the others all being empty).

Desperate times call for desperate measures.  We jumped up, put our heads down and joined the melee.  Our one advantage was that the board had indicated that the first-class carriages on our service were "at the front" – that is, furthest from the barriers, so we skipped and dodged our way around people gathering around the nearer doors of the trains on both sides and headed up the platform.  Pointing to the train on the left, Amanda announced, "This is ours", with a confidence that I know from experience is – just occasionally – misplaced.  

I looked across and, as I suspected, saw that "the train" on our left was in fact "two trains on our left".  St Pancras does, on occasion, double-stack trains on platforms, and it's important to know the actual time of departure for each one, so as not to board one train only to see the other one departing at your scheduled time. Since there are no departure boards along the length of the platforms, and the on-board systems to identify the trains were not yet powered up, further confusion reigned.  As we waited by the small gap between the two trains I glanced across to the sole train on our right and saw the magic time of "21.32" suddenly flash up on the information board next to the dearest door.  "This one", I shouted and shoved Amanda ahead of me as we formed our own attacking cuneus.  

One of the great annoyances of the current EMR transition between fleets is the (supposedly temporary) suspension of reserved seating, so we knew that it was a case of "find a seat, grab it and defend it at all costs" – which, it must be said, is a strategy that plays to Amanda's strengths – she's small, agile and a lot stronger than she looks – and as I followed her, elbowing my way into the nearest first-class carriage, it was with some relief that I saw that she had nabbed the two seats nearest the door – designed for use by those accompanying a wheelchair user, and therefore with a large space in front of them.  Now just pray for no wheelchairs...

The already crowded carriage continued to fill up, with people occupying the aisle, the large space in front of our seats, the doorway and the vestibule.  Amanda - very conscious that we both look younger than we are - made sure her Senior Railcard was clearly visible on the table, thereby hoping to stave off any suggestions that we youngsters might give up our seats for some of the more obviously elderly wrinklies around us.

A number of on-board announcements apologised for the chaos and assured us that the on-board staff were doing everything they could to find out exactly what was going on.  Eventually, some time after 21.32 we departed. The train staff knew better than to try to ask to see tickets and passes under those conditions, and opted instead to pass through the carriage handing out bottles of water and bags of crisps for all who wanted them.  

A slow journey home, the only upside being that with a delay of 15 minutes or more we could claim compensation for a late arrival.  Given how the day had gone thus far I decided to take no chances and grabbed this shot to prove that, 15 minutes after our scheduled arrival time we were still only approaching Leicester.  (I need not have concerned myself - EMR duly paid us each the princely sum of £6.65 for our inconvenience).


So - taken all together, a pearl of a gig in something of a sow's ear of a day.  No matter - the band were THAT good.

Set List

  • 500 Miles High (Chick Corea)
  • State of the Union (Larry Grenadier)
  • Con Alma (Dizzy Gillespie)
  • Eminence (Eric Harland)
  • Santo Canto (unconfirmed) (Gonzalo Rubalcaba)
  • Oba (unconfirmed) (Chris Potter)

Monday, 29 June 2026

The Marriage of Figaro - Royal Opera House, London


To London, to see The Marriage of Figaro at the Royal Opera House.  The first time we went to the ROH was 22nd July 2023, and it was this David McVicar production of Figaro that we saw that day.  I really liked the staging, and it would be good to see it again - albeit with a different cast.

A straightforward run down on the 15.04, and then a cab to the junction of Long Acre and Bow Street, just a few yards from a branch of Pizza Express.  To a large extent we have stopped frequenting Pizza Express - apart from the Jazz Club in Soho, which somehow seems to manage to elevate itself to a different league, quite independent of the music on offer.  

Truth be told, in the early days PE could be relied on for good food at a modest price, but these days the latter is definitely no longer true.  On this occasion, however, we had a "two for one" voucher, and the proximity to the ROH (perhaps 70m to the main door) made it an obvious choice for pre-opera dining.

From the moment we arrived, the service was - to be kind - relaxed, and it was almost amusing to see so many grown men engaged in so much "busyness" with so relatively little to show for it.  At one point one of our (several) waiters exclaimed "Sorry - I nearly forgot about you!", which was probably an accurate summary of our experience.  Around 10 minutes before we left, a large (30+?) group of young people came in and were shown to a backroom which was obviously being kept clear for them.  Since there appeared to be no additional staff to deal with them I was quite relieved that our reliance on any kind of service was coming to an end. Even more of a relief was the discovery that, having signed up for the "two for one" offer, I was now entitled to request and pay for our bill online, which at least obviated the need to distract any of the waiters from their "busyness" elsewhere...

A Salad Nicoise, La Reine pizza and salad:


Biscoff Cheesecake and a flat white:


Lemon & raspberry cheesecake with raspberry coulis and vanilla gelato:


Out, to walk the short distance to the ROH, to sit and people watch in the main foyer.  Then up to our seats in the Donald Gordon Grand Tier:



As anticipated, we thoroughly enjoyed the performance, with the magificent sets as impressive as I had remembered them and excellent performances from Alex Esposito as Figaro and Louise Alder as Susanna.

Interval drinks in the Paul Hamlyn Hall, and then back to our seats to people watch before Acts 3 and 4.  Amanda leaned forward to check out the people in the stalls and announced "That's Michael Portillo down there!".  I glanced down and opined, "Nah - he's too young and too blond".  "It is!", she responded.  I took another look and saw that the man in question was clearly "with" the lady in the green to his left.   I Googled "Michael Portillo's wife", looked at a few photos and conceded that it was indeed the Portillos:




Figaro is a fairly long opera, and even with the earlier-than-usual start, by the time it ended I was keen to make our way back to St Pancras as promptly as possible - if only to make sure I could pick up my habitual "large Earl Grey tea" before we got on board.

Out onto the street, where we enacted my plan of turning right (in the opposite direction to St Pancras) and starting to walk down to Aldwych, from where I knew we were more likely to catch a cab.  We hadn't gone more than about 80 - 100m when I saw one in a side street, so immediately hailed it. The cabbie acknowledged me and we waited for him to turn into Bow Street - which was tricky as there was a lot of stationary traffic.  While we waited, I was conscious of someone coming up fast on my left, rushing across the road and heading towards "our" cab, arm in the air...

I have always found London cabbies to be quite fair and honourable, in the sense that once they have achnowledged you and switched off their "For Hire" light they will stick with you, even if another customer gets to them first and tries to hijack them.  For that reason, I was relaxed and happy to stand on the pavement and wait to be picked up when the traffic cleared and the cabbie could make a right turn.  My dear wife, on the other hand, always finds it impossible to bow to my routine exhortations to "just bloody let me be in charge of getting the cab - you always confuse matters" and so - little terrier that she is - she started running across the road to "stake our claim".  As the gentleman that I usually try to be, I then felt obliged to follow her and jump into the cab -  all the while planning on acquiring both a muzzle and handcuffs to avoid any such problems in the future (I'm begining to suspect that when she promised, 35 years ago, to "love, honour and obey" me she had at least some of her fingers crossed...).

Upon quizzing Amanda as to why, once again, she had found it impossible to simply stand and wait with me, she blurted out that our competitor for the cab was Portillo, and that she was determined not to let him have it...  She then apologised to the cabbie for denying him a celebrity fare, to which he replied, "I don't mind - I wasn't that keen on him...".  And you tell it to kids these days and they say "Who's Michael Portillo?"...

A straightforward run home on the 23.35 and bed by about 02.00.  I still think I need to buy a muzzle.

Friday, 29 May 2026

Don Pasquale - Nevill Holt Opera

We're off to see Donizetti's Don Pasquale at Nevill Holt Opera.  This visit to the opera differed from almost all my previous ones.  In those cases I was already at least moderately familiar with the work, usually because I already owned it on CD.  By contrast, I came to Don Pasquale with no prior knowledge either of the opera itself or of Donizetti's work more generally.  

My brief research prior to this told me that Don Pasquale premiered in 1843 and is generally regarded as being the high point of the 19th century opera buffa (comic opera) tradition, as well as marking its ending.  The pre-publicity for this new production by Opera North, directed by James Hurley, noted that it is set in an independent film studio in mid-1960s Rome and blends comedy with the romance and nostalgia of Italy’s film-making heyday. 







The view from our seats in the middle of the front row of the balcony:


During the interval we eschewed the opportunity to pay an exorbitant amount of money for a silver-service three-course meal and decided instead to pay an only slightly less exorbitant amount of money for two chicken rolls from the pop-up fast food truck.  

I say "chicken rolls" but of course, this being Nevill Holt, these were actually "Nevill Holt chicken sandwiches with sweet-and-sour pickles", prepared on an open barbecue by staff from Cubitt House. Whether or not any of that justified the price of £13 a sandwich I will leave the reader to decide...




The caterers are not the only ones having a laugh:












Back to our seats for the second half of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. I won't attempt to review the play, but I do concur with all the high praise lavished on the production in the reviews listed below.

Reviews


  • Seen and Heard International
  • The Arts Desk
  • Classical Music Daily
  • musicOMH
  • Opera Now
  • The Stage
  • Wednesday, 6 May 2026

    The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui - Swan Theatre - Stratford-upon-Avon

    To Stratford, to see The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui by Bertolt Brecht - about which, more later.


    A busier drive than we had anticipated, but we still arrived at the Swans Nest Lane Car Park in plenty of time to go for stroll. 

    The Royal Shakespeare Theatre as seen from 'the other' side of the Avon.  A sign of the times - if you zoom in hard enough you can see that the doors from the Riverside Cafe that open onto the terrace are all closed and have notices affixed to them. These doors are usually open, and entry to the Cafe (and therefore the building) is policed by volunteers who perform a perfunctory 'bag check'.  Now, all access to the building is steered through the "main" entrances and somewhat more rigorous checking.  It would appear that the change occurred after the UK national terrorism threat level was raised to "Severe (highly likely)" on 30th April.


    A composite shot of the view from south of the river:


    To The Boathouse, and our requested balcony table - about which the Boss appeared to be quite happy:


    and if the Boss is happy, I'm happy:


    The view back to the 1823 Grade II listed pedestrian Tramway Bridge crossing the Avon:


    Our usuals:



    Hmm... ...have I got room for a sweet?


    Don't ask stupid questions - and give me your wafers:


    Out, to relocate the car to the Church Street Car Park and then a gentle stroll to the RST.

    A view down the length of the (uncharacteristically empty) building, through the shop and main foyer at the far end:


    To our favourite seats:


    Obligatory selfie:


    The view just before the beginning of the second half:



    And so to the play.

    Fearing persecution, and already blacklisted, Brecht left Germany in February 1933, shortly after Hitler was appointed as Chancellor, and for the next several years he moved around before finally arriving in Helsinki in 1941, where he wrote "Arturo Ui" in just three weeks while he was waiting for a visa to enter the USA.  It was always Brecht's intention that the play should be performed in the USA but, given America's neutrality at that time, that did not happen and the play remained unperformed until its world premiere (in Stuttgart) in 1958 - two years after Brecht died.

    The play is a "satirical allegory" (or should that be "allegorical satire"?), which describes the rise of Hitler and the Nazis through the story of Arturo Ui, a fictional 1930s mobster, and his attempts to control the Chicago cauliflower racket (!!) by systematically disposing of the competition…

    All the characters and groups in the play have direct counterparts in real life, and every scene is based on a historical event.  Helpfully, Brecht's original stage directions - followed in this production - include the use of signs or projections which assist the audience in understanding the parallels between the play and actual events.

    So what did I think of it? Utterly brilliant - and genuinely frightening.  Mark Gatiss, as Ui, was superb - never lapsing into a direct imitation of Hitler, but also never once allowing us to forget who he was representing.  The rest of the cast were uniformly good, and the staging was excellent.  Given the background to the story, guns were replaced by vegetables.  In the scene representing the "Night of the Long Knives"  -  the internal Nazi purge in which Hitler had rivals and perceived threats murdered - a number of characters are gunned down by someone wielding a stick of Brussel Sprouts as a machine gun, with the victims throwing (and appearing to spit) handfuls of red petals to represent splattering blood - simultaneously blackly humorous and chilling.

    Parallels with 2026 geopolitics did not need to be emphasised - it was as if the whole audience was thinking as one.  At the end of the final scene, Gatiss and other cast members walked off stage, to return a few moments later, but this time out of character.  Now speaking in his normal voice, Gatiss addressed the last lines of the epilogue directly to the audience:

    "This is no time for celebrating, for bunting and champagne,
    Although this time the world stood up and stopped the bastard, 
    The bitch that bore him is in heat again".

    Pause

    "What’s next?
    And what are YOU going to do about it?"

    and then a first for me - while Gatiss and other members of the cast stood motionless, the audience burst into spontaneous applause several seconds BEFORE the stage lights dimmed and then came back up.

    I would say beg, borrow or steal a ticket to see this production, but the rest of its undeservedly short run is sold out; if it makes it to the West End or as a touring production it is a must-see.

    Out, and a straightforward run home - marvelling at the contrast between this evening and our last one in Stratford.


    Reviews


  • #BrumHour
  • All That Dazzles
  • Broadway World
  • East Midlands Theatre
  • Elemental Theatre Company
  • Love London Love Culture
  • North West End UK
  • Peter Viney's Blog
  • Stage Talk Magazine
  • Stratford Herald
  • The Arts Desk
  • The Arts Dispatch
  • The Birmingham Press
  • The Guardian
  • The Real Chrisparkle
  • The Stage
  • Warwickshire What’s On
  • Warwickshire World
  • Weekend Notes
  • West End Best Friend
  • WhatsOnStage