2003 06 10

Ravel's Bolero is, perhaps, one of the most easily recognisable pieces of classical musical genius ever to grace mankind. But it's so simple!, you say, and yes, yes it is, but that's part of it's beauty and grace. It builds, layer upon layer, changing ever so slightly - almost imperceptibly - as it evolves, until it hits you that something's different but you're not sure when the difference happened. The Bolero is like a good orgasm - it starts off quiet and delicate, builds layer upon layer until the nearly riotous crescendo at it's finish.

The other day I watched some concert performance on the television, Bolero being the piece of choice, and at the end of it all I was let down, disappointed, like an orgasm that just about gets there but then goes past the point of whammo without you even noticing anything happened. Instead of that trumpeting explosion at the end of the piece, this orchestra played it more like, "Honey, could you pass me the remote control?" It was flat, passionless. The conductor deserves a good smack and an introduction to The Joy of Really Wowing the Audience.