Monday 5 August 2002

"It says Wisdom on my toothbrush, Revelation on my bag" (Peter Blegvad)

Park Central Hotel, New York (on tour with the SCO, playing the harmonium). As before on trips to the US, I'm awake far too early, but today I don't really mind as tomorrow I have to be on the 0605 train to Washington for Chris Norman's recording session at 10.

I had a reasonably eventful journey over here: within 30 seconds of setting foot in Heathrow's Terminal 3, a kind lady ran her baggage trolley into my foot, and scraped a fair quantity of skin off the heel, leaving it bleeding all over the floor. Serves me right for wearing sandals, I thought I was bring practical. Fortunately Boots was a short hop away. Then on the flight I was sat in front of a very sweet but extremely active little boy who couldn't help himself from continually kicking the back of my chair, dropping his tray table and screaming at his sister. I thought 'I can handle this', had a drink, put some loud music on my walkman, and then an hour later thought, 'no I can't, I have to get some rest'.  At this point I spotted Michael Stirling's cello a couple of rows ahead. So eventually after a bit of negotiating with the flight attendant, the cello got upgraded to first class (well, it's a Strad, it's worth more than I am), and I got to talk to him about working with Fred Frith in the Ensemble Modern.

Yesterday I had three hours to myself with a harmonium in the chorus room of the Avery Fisher Hall at the Lincoln Center. It's a nice French instrument from around 1880, well-maintained but still a little temperamental, with the odd sticky note, a register not set up properly, and squeaky pedals. I bumped into Joseph Swensen (who's conducting) back at the hotel, and he said 'this should not be your problem, all you should have to do is play the music'. This is not a scenario I'm familiar with.

I brought loads of CDs with me but all that I'm actually listening to in spare moments is an old favourite which I would happily write about at great length but will spare you: Robert Wyatt's incredible 1974 record Rock Bottom, with occasional outbreaks of the wonderful new CD of Lou Harrison's music for harpsichord, fortepiano and tack piano in different tunings by Linda Burman-Hall. I met Lou Harrison when I was a student, and thought he looked like he had far too much fun to be a serious composer ...

Similarly, I brought a pile of books but have only managed to open and devour Richard James Burgess's The Art of Music Production, which is about as entertaining and enlightening a book about the music business as you'll read.  Very funny, and a whole chapter on lawyers.