A nice, self-forgetful afternoon at The Courtauld Gallery. A self-indulgent, savory dinner at Sitar. Indian food cooked and served with French precision, glazed with sitar music. The untiring detail of a 14th century ivory diptych, the unforgiving eye of Lucian Freud.
I am glad to report that our second visit at the Royal Albert Hall, at the end of August (for Whitacre's Proms debut), was a happier affair than our first. The public was there for the music. Eric was there for the show (his music in his wake). I agree with this reviewer, when he writes that “the most extraordinary sounds came in American composer Edwin London's ingeniously simple re-imagining of Bach's harmonisation of a Lutheran chorale", and with this reviewer, when she declares herself unimpressed by the evening's premiers.
I do promise to finish my discussion of Gane's book. The aroma of incense beckons.