Two years ago, I reported the death of Decca, one of the last major classical record labels. My column drew hysterical reactions from toadies of the music industry, prompting one of them to write a web article proclaiming that Norman Lebrecht was dead.
Well, not quite.
What happened at Decca was that Chris Roberts, then head of classics and jazz at Universal, decided in a late act of spite to wind down the label and leave in in the hands of one executive and a receptionist. Roberts was fired last summer by the Universal chief operating officer, Max Hole. Costa Pilavachi, a former head of Decca, was brought back in a senior role, and the pair have been re-assessing the business top to bottom.
An announcement will be made in the next few days, I hear, that Decca is to be relaunched next month as Decca Classics, hinged to Universal Music UK and no longer governed from afar. Paul Moseley will remain as managing director of a reinforced team and new signings are on the cards.
This is a rare shaft of exceptionally good news for the classical music business, and an even rarer instance of a corporation admitting it made a really bad move and making swift amends.
It does not mean the rebirth of classical recording, but it does mean the decline will be managed in future with a good deal more sensitivity and commonsense.
Decca was declared dead by Universal (and not by me). It is now risen again.
The German film powerhouse, best remembered for the last days of Hitler film titled (in English) Downfall, has died of a heart attack aged 61.
Eichinger wrote the screenplay for Downfall and was its producer. He also produced The Name of the Rose (1986), Perfume (2006) and another 20 movies. As a director, he was reponsible for a ghastly Parsifal in Berlin five years ago and fast forgotten.
The three epic films will be remembered so long as poeple watch cinema.
The German film powerhouse, best remembered for the last days of Hitler film titled (in English) Downfall, has died of a heart attack aged 61.
Eichinger wrote the screenplay for Downfall and was its producer. He also produced The Name of the Rose (1986), Perfume (2006) and another 20 movies. As a director, he was reponsible for a ghastly Parsifal in Berlin five years ago and fast forgotten.
The three epic films will be remembered so long as poeple watch cinema.
The love fest between Philharmonic conductor Alan Gilbert and the New York Times has reached a point where they need to consider solemnising the relationship.
Since the New Year, the Times chief music critic Anthony Tommasini has been engaged in one of the most vapid pieces of journa-listing in recent memory, compiling a chart of the 10 greatest composers of all time. Tommasini’s definition of ‘greatest’ is so vague that no intelligent purpose can be served by such an exercise, except to fill vacant space in the Times and in the minds of its editors.
Many readers have responded with contempt. But just as the futile blether is fading to blank, up pops Alan Gilbert on his blog with expressions of surprise and delight at the brilliance of the Times, and of Tommasini, his leader of cheerleaders.
‘I followed it with great interest,’ trills Gilbert. ‘It is reminiscent of one of my favorite parlor games.’ Read
the rest of the fest for yourselves, before heaving.
This mutual admiration society is now officially a public affair. It may soon require the blessing of Mayor Bloomberg on the steps of City Hall.
————————————–
The love fest between Philharmonic conductor Alan Gilbert and the New York Times has reached a point where they need to consider solemnising the relationship.
Since the New Year, the Times chief music critic Anthony Tommasini has been engaged in one of the most vapid pieces of journa-listing in recent memory, compiling a chart of the 10 greatest composers of all time. Tommasini’s definition of ‘greatest’ is so vague that no intelligent purpose can be served by such an exercise, except to fill vacant space in the Times and in the minds of its editors.
Many readers have responded with contempt. But just as the futile blether is fading to blank, up pops Alan Gilbert on his blog with expressions of surprise and delight at the brilliance of the Times, and of Tommasini, his leader of cheerleaders.
‘I followed it with great interest,’ trills Gilbert. ‘It is reminiscent of one of my favorite parlor games.’ Read
the rest of the fest for yourselves, before heaving.
This mutual admiration society is now officially a public affair. It may soon require the blessing of Mayor Bloomberg on the steps of City Hall.
————————————–
Anna Yablonskaya, who lost her life in the Moscow airport outrage, was not a political activist. Privately, she l
oathed the leaders of Russia and Ukraine but she made few public statements and stuck to what she did best, writing plays and poems. On her blog, a month ago, she wrote: ‘it seems to me that I have very little time.’
Yablonskaya was a pseudonym. The name on her passport was Anna Grigorievna Mashutina.
The violent death of a poet should give us all pause. A minute’s silence at noon?
Here are two friends’ tributes in Moscow News:
http://themoscownews.com/art/20110126/188365552.html?referfrommn
Anna Yablonskaya, who lost her life in the Moscow airport outrage, was not a political activist. Privately, she l
oathed the leaders of Russia and Ukraine but she made few public statements and stuck to what she did best, writing plays and poems. On her blog, a month ago, she wrote: ‘it seems to me that I have very little time.’
Yablonskaya was a pseudonym. The name on her passport was Anna Grigorievna Mashutina.
The violent death of a poet should give us all pause. A minute’s silence at noon?
Here are two friends’ tributes in Moscow News:
http://themoscownews.com/art/20110126/188365552.html?referfrommn
Any spare moments these past few weeks, I have been dipping into an advance copy of Behind Bars, a new book by a desk editor at Faber Music demonstrating the principles of correct notation.
Unfashionable, I know. Most composers nowadays leave their orchestration to computer programs like Sibelius 7 and by the time they’re back from making a cuppa tea all the oboe parts and flugelhorns have been filled in.
That, says Elaine Gould, is just not good enough. Unless a composer (or copyist) follows her simple rules and puts the markings where they ought to go, the symphony will wind up a total mess and give infinite employment to musicologists to determine which note goes where.
She is very strict with lazy composers. Behind Bars takes no prisoners. Ms Gould quotes Gustav Mahler as her guiding angel:
What this copyist has done to me… is simply too dreadful. In every part, wherever an instrument has a longer passage of rests, instead of writing them out in full, the lazy pig has merely written tacet. So now, not only are the players unable to find their bearings but when I, poor devil, want to change the orchestration, instead of merely writing in the necessary bars at the appropriate place, I also have to write out the entire tacet passage…. This is wasting hours and hours of my time.
If you are a composer or a copyist, you cannot live without this book. If you are a conductor, it is equally enlightening and indispensable. Simon Rattle thinks it ought to be Holy Writ for every baton wielder. It’s out this week and costs £65.
Any spare moments these past few weeks, I have been dipping into an advance copy of Behind Bars, a new book by a desk editor at Faber Music demonstrating the principles of correct notation.
Unfashionable, I know. Most composers nowadays leave their orchestration to computer programs like Sibelius 7 and by the time they’re back from making a cuppa tea all the oboe parts and flugelhorns have been filled in.
That, says Elaine Gould, is just not good enough. Unless a composer (or copyist) follows her simple rules and puts the markings where they ought to go, the symphony will wind up a total mess and give infinite employment to musicologists to determine which note goes where.
She is very strict with lazy composers. Behind Bars takes no prisoners. Ms Gould quotes Gustav Mahler as her guiding angel:
What this copyist has done to me… is simply too dreadful. In every part, wherever an instrument has a longer passage of rests, instead of writing them out in full, the lazy pig has merely written tacet. So now, not only are the players unable to find their bearings but when I, poor devil, want to change the orchestration, instead of merely writing in the necessary bars at the appropriate place, I also have to write out the entire tacet passage…. This is wasting hours and hours of my time.
If you are a composer or a copyist, you cannot live without this book. If you are a conductor, it is equally enlightening and indispensable. Simon Rattle thinks it ought to be Holy Writ for every baton wielder. It’s out this week and costs £65.
When Dame Liz Forgan appears before the House of Commons Culture Committee later today, she ought to be asked about the Arts Council’s relations with its largest client.
Some weeks ago, in pursuit of a different matter, I discovered that Arts Council England has been banned from meetings of the Royal Opera House board. Ever since 1946, when public subsidy was first instituted, the Council has been entitled to send an observer to board meetings of major clients in order to report back on progress and, on occasion, to warn the board that its decisions might have a negative impact on future funding.
At English National Opera, the ACE’s director of music once declared before an astonished board that the company would be shut down if it rejected ACE advice. That was an extreme instance; mostly, such warnings are delivered privately.
Ten years ago, the Royal Opera House decided that these arrangements were unnecessary and damaging. Its chairman Colin Southgate informed the ACE that observers were no longer welcome ‘on grounds of commercial confidentiality’ and the ACE tamely agreed to give up its wallflower seat.
What Southgate was saying was that the ACE was leaky as an old colander and incompetent to boot. Its reports of ROH affairs were not always accurate.
The main reason for expulsion from Eden, however, was that ACE’s share of the ROH budget was falling year by year and directors saw no reason to maintain transparency with a sponsor of diminishing importance. Over the coming two years, it is expected that state funding for the ROH, currently £28.3 million, will be overtaken by a rising curve of private donations. On those grounds, the ACE’s role shrinks to insignificance.
Relations between the two bodies are now described as good-to-polite. Like an estranged couple living in the same house, they try not to trip over each other.
The ROH ban on ACE observers expresses a striking loss of confidence in the funding body. That is an attitude shared by many of its large clients. The Arts Council, once a friend to the arts is regarded widely with suspicion and more will follow Covent Garden’s lead in refusing to allow it to exercise supervisory duties.
These are issues that need to be explored by Parliament and Government. Liz Forgan, in her resourceful way, will defend her officials and describe me as a hostile witness. The record shows that I have spent much of my life arguing the necessity for state funding of the arts. It is the ACE that has abandoned its core purpose, adopted political aims, betrayed its friends and been banished from the very institutions that it helped create.
The ACE needs to be stripped down, top to bottom, before it can once more be considered fit for purpose.
When Dame Liz Forgan appears before the House of Commons Culture Committee later today, she ought to be asked about the Arts Council’s relations with its largest client.
Some weeks ago, in pursuit of a different matter, I discovered that Arts Council England has been banned from meetings of the Royal Opera House board. Ever since 1946, when public subsidy was first instituted, the Council has been entitled to send an observer to board meetings of major clients in order to report back on progress and, on occasion, to warn the board that its decisions might have a negative impact on future funding.
At English National Opera, the ACE’s director of music once declared before an astonished board that the company would be shut down if it rejected ACE advice. That was an extreme instance; mostly, such warnings are delivered privately.
Ten years ago, the Royal Opera House decided that these arrangements were unnecessary and damaging. Its chairman Colin Southgate informed the ACE that observers were no longer welcome ‘on grounds of commercial confidentiality’ and the ACE tamely agreed to give up its wallflower seat.
What Southgate was saying was that the ACE was leaky as an old colander and incompetent to boot. Its reports of ROH affairs were not always accurate.
The main reason for expulsion from Eden, however, was that ACE’s share of the ROH budget was falling year by year and directors saw no reason to maintain transparency with a sponsor of diminishing importance. Over the coming two years, it is expected that state funding for the ROH, currently £28.3 million, will be overtaken by a rising curve of private donations. On those grounds, the ACE’s role shrinks to insignificance.
Relations between the two bodies are now described as good-to-polite. Like an estranged couple living in the same house, they try not to trip over each other.
The ROH ban on ACE observers expresses a striking loss of confidence in the funding body. That is an attitude shared by many of its large clients. The Arts Council, once a friend to the arts is regarded widely with suspicion and more will follow Covent Garden’s lead in refusing to allow it to exercise supervisory duties.
These are issues that need to be explored by Parliament and Government. Liz Forgan, in her resourceful way, will defend her officials and describe me as a hostile witness. The record shows that I have spent much of my life arguing the necessity for state funding of the arts. It is the ACE that has abandoned its core purpose, adopted political aims, betrayed its friends and been banished from the very institutions that it helped create.
The ACE needs to be stripped down, top to bottom, before it can once more be considered fit for purpose.
After an extended self-exile in Thailand, the former Sony Classical chief Chris Craker is bouncing back into the record business with a joint venture proposition for young artists.
Craker, still only 52, is one of the most experienced label operators. A clarinettist in the London orchestras, he became a freelance producers and turned out more than 400 CDs before setting up his own label, Black Box, with finance from two Conservative peers. A second label,
Onyx, continues to thrive.
Then he went to Sony with a plan to revitalise the dying enterprise with young artists, signed on the cheap. Lisa Batiashvili, Elizabeth Watts and Jack Liebeck were his quick picks.
With his executive payoff – no-one lasts long at Sony Classical – he set up a ‘luxury residential studio’ in Thailand called
Karma. Jamiroquai and classical guitarist John Williams are among the first to work there.
Now Chris is starting Karma Classics to help young artists get onto record. ‘The old model is dead,’ he tells me, ‘but new talent still needs nurturing and
guiding. I’ve always loved
helping new talent to shine through and with 25 years experience at the front
line of the business, and considerable experience in innovative marketing
strategies incorporating all the new model social networking I feel I can make a
difference and assist the genuine stars of the future… Karma Studios in
Thailand is a creative utopia from where to base this initiative.’
He launches next month and you can reach him through the website.
Make your record here:
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