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THE labelling of different types of music becomes more complicated day by day. This thought occurred to me in Basingstoke recently, where I was enjoying a concert of Argentinian tango music given a contemporary twist and a rhythmic pulse borrowed from Jamaican reggae, performed by a band that included musicians from Europe and South America. This was the Gotan project, based in Paris. Their clever arrangements, while paying lip service to current dance-floor conventions and spiced with dub and rock, are full of melodic, harmonic and emotional fragments taken from Argentinian nuevo tango. It's a rich mix, that defies categorization. But where do you find their CD's in the record stores? Dance, hip-hop, jazz, easy listening, world music? Bath Festival has now taken to colour-coding the different genres of music in their brochure: red for classical, purple for contemporary, orange for early, yellow (why?) for jazz, and green for world music. Then along comes Jan Garbarek, and the system collapses. Garbarek is a virtuoso Norwegian saxophonist, who has explored his own Nordic folk music alongside other musical forms: early music, Indian classical roots, American jazz. It's a mix of contemporary and timeless themes that gives his sound an unmistakeable individual hallmark. In the haunting, floating sound of his soprano saxophone, Garbarek evokes the landscape of his native Norway, cloud-capped mountains and icy fjords - but there is so much more to his music. Everything of his life is in there, his early influences, his collaborations, his travels, his philosophy. If this is world music, then surely it speaks of One World, where audiences can enjoy sounds from different hemispheres, not because they sound strange and foreign, but because music is an universal language we all understand. Garbarek's concert was the highlight of this year's Bath Festival for me and all the other saxophonists who filled the Forum. |
Jan Garbarek In the Bristol Hippodrome last month, the Cuadra de Sevilla presented their own version of Carmen, in the style of an Andalusian folk opera, with flamenco dancers, a pirouetting white stallion, and some solidly-built lady singers giving us the full blast of 'Cante Hondo' which is a kind of Andalusian blues, concentrating on amor, muerte, dolor (love, death and pain). Same old same old. And underneath the strumming guitars and clicking castanets, you can sense the cultural undercurrents of the Andalusian melting pot Ð Greek, roman, Visigoth, Moors. A Baghdadian musician Ziryab founded a singing school in Cordoba in 822, and Persian music became very popular in the bodegas. It is believed that the flamenco style was imported to Spain by gypsies arriving from Hindustan. Music crosses frontiers, opens new doors, builds bridges. The undisputed star of this Carmen from Seville, however, was the unnamed white stallion, who danced a delicate flamenco in perfect synchronisation with dancer Lalo Tejada, and earned a standing ovation from the Bristol audience. Tony Staveacre |
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I'M worried about by pal Silas Turvey's drinking. One of his booze-buddies told me about a recent binge in nearby Upper Throdley, when Silas, drunk as a skunk, was asked to leave the pub. There were four entrances, and Silas came back through the second one, before being asked to leave again. Back he came through the third entrance before being ejected. When Silas came in through the final fourth entrance, he was lifted and thrown out by the irate landlord. Picking himself up, Silas spluttered angrily, "Oi, mishter-do you own all the flippin' pubs around 'ere?" Farmer Stobbs, Regil's finest, made me laugh when he told me he'd sent his pal a crate of |
chickens. He got a letter back saying the crate had burst open and the chickens had escaped into next doors farmyard. However, his pal added, "I chased 'em through the yard but only got back eleven of 'em". Farmer Stobbs wrote back, " I should shut up and be grateful- I only sent you six." Dan
Daffin, my elderly neighbour, decided to make a will and asked his
solicitor what was the procedure. "Just leave it to me", came
the reply. "Ahh, said old Den, "You'd loike oi t'do that you
money-grabbin' swine, but oi'm gonna give it all to moi kids!" Toodle Tat, Ol' Nadger |
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Sorry - not in this issue. |
Suzanne Wynn |
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If you're searching for a group of plants that will give you the maximum of pleasure for the minimum of effort, there's no doubting that the hardy Geraniums or 'Cranesbills' are made for the job. As versatile a group of plants as you're ever likely to encounter, the hardy geraniums, or cranebills, are an unassuming bunch of perennials happy to go about their business in a reliable, good-natured manner with very little fuse whatsoever. Other brasher, louder plants will attempt to steal the limelight buy hardy geraniums are more than capable of out-performing them. Not only will many varieties produce their blue, purple, pink or white flowers for weeks-on-end, they all have attractively sculpted, often aromatic foliage. What's more, there's a hardy geranium to suit just about every spot in the garden and, as their name suggests, with one or two exceptions, they are extremely hardy and tough as old boots. Not to be confused with those tender perennials commonly called geraniums, but correctly known as pelargoniums, hardy geraniums come in every shape and size from rock garden miniatures to impressive four footers; from neat clump formers to vigorous ground coverers. To
avoid further confusion we'll refer to them hereafter as cranebills, a
common name that refers to their typically long, pointed seed capsules
which really do resemble cranes' bills! Cutting your plants back hard after flowering will neaten them up, provide a fresh crop of leaves and, in many cases, flowers too. Apart from that, they demand very little care. Mind you, the kinder you treat them the better they'll perform. The easiest way to produce more of your favourite varieties is to divide the clumps in autumn, spring, or even just after flowering. Almost
all cranesbills can be propagated in this way. A large clump will split
into literally hundreds of plants. When buying a new plant from a nursery
or garden centre, look out for large ones that can be split straightaway. |
Flowering
for much of the summer, 'Johnson's Blue' is an old favourite creating
excellent ground cover in sun or shade. Talking of ground cover, you can't
do much better than the aromatic-leaved G. macrorrhizum - it's an
unfair tongue-twister of a name for a very obliging plant that even copes
with dry shade! A
relatively new introduction, 'Brookside' is one of the truest blues,
whilst 'Nimbus' has particularly fine, lacy foliage. At 120cm (4ft) high,
G. psilostemon is one of the tallest, showiest and most vibrant
cranesbills. Its large black-eyed, shocking magenta blooms work especially
well against purple, grey or silver-leaved plants. In
good company! Bob Purnell - Nigel North |
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Environment
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THE Marsh Fritillary butterfly has been seen on the wing again at the Avon Wildlife Trust's reserve at Folly Farm. The last recorded sighting was 1999, and the species was thought to be locally extinct. But a team from the trust has seen up to three individuals in flight. The trust was alerted to the butterflies' presence by a member of the public, who correctly identified the species when out walking. The sightings are especially welcome, as the marsh fritillary had been the subject of a project to re-establish its population at Folly Farm, close to Chew Magna. The reserve is especially valuable because of its historic landscape, which has never been intensively farmed. So it has remained a haven for wildlife species whose habitat has disappeared elsewhere. The reserve contains ancient woodland, and wildflower meadows, and a large area is designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest. Before the Avon Wildlife Trust re-established the population, the marsh fritillary originally bred and flew in Folly Farm for a number of years. The first official sighting was in 1987, when the trust acquired the reserve. There were then sightings in four years up to 1993, after which the butterfly vanished. Avon Wildlife Trust re-established the marsh fritillary in flower meadows at Folly Farm in 1997. This area is particularly suitable for marsh fritillaries because it is home to the devil's bit scabious, the food plant for the butterfly larvae. Twenty locations were chosen for an initial release of 1400 larvae, followed by 60 pupae at a later stage. The butterfly's numbers were monitored, and adults were seen in flight for short periods in 1997, 1998 and 1999. Since then none have been spotted, until the recent sightings. Local butterfly expert Ray Barnett believes the re-established population has managed to cling on at Folly Farm. He says it is unlikely that these individuals are present as a result of casual immigration into the area. Ray, who is Collections Manager for the Bristol Museums and Art Galleries Service, is co-author of a new butterfly atlas, Butterflies of the Bristol Region, which includes a history of the marsh fritillary in the area. |
Adult
fritialleries fly in late May and June, and possibly as late as mid-July.
But each individual only flies for a short time. An individual male
survives about four days while a female lives for about three. To make
matters worse, males often emerge from the chrysalis up to three days
before females. This may make the population difficult to regenerate and
maintain. But emergence peaks four to eight days after the first
butterflies appear, and at this point there will be both males and females
about. |
