Wednesday 21 August 2002

I've been having a mercifully quiet week or two, concentrating on essential pursuits like sitting in the garden with my daughter (summer finally arrived this week). Then today at lunchtime I got offered a solo concert this Saturday (covering a cancellation) playing on probably the most famous harpsichord in the world, the 1769 green Taskin from Edinburgh University's Russell Collection in St Cecilia's Hall. Opportunities to get an instrument like that to yourself in front of an audience don't come along often, so I'd better organise the baby-sitting, pick a programme, and do some frantic practising. I think the audience is going to be largely made up of the British Clavichord Society, so they'll be knowledgeable to boot.

Marie and I are meeting Steve Cappello this afternoon to look at the final proofs for our American flyers, then I have to conjure up some programmes to go with them and we'll get those sent off by early next week.

By a strange act of providence I've come into possession of a DCC machine, digital compact cassette being the digital audio format that never really took off. The DCC part is pretty useless, but it also plays normal analog cassettes very well and has a digital output, so I've been up to the attic, and have dug out all sorts of old recordings to transfer to CD via my computer. There's everything from student concerts, including a Mozart sonata with added piano part by Grieg and ridiculous added percussion parts by me, to endless Anniesland Occasionals recordings dating from schooldays onwards. With no editing facilities, everything was recorded in single takes, and the screw-ups are often the most entertaining bits, and have since resulted in 20 year-old in-jokes (much like any other band I suppose).  I was rolling around on the floor helpless with laughter more than once, hearing the original occurrences of such gems as 'cut it ya bam, we've finished' and 'shmizh me mov mov', phrases which mean nothing to anyone, except those who were there at the time.