Prince Charles and I do not share the same tastes in music. He likes the old pomp and circumstance with a special preference for Hubert Parry, whom he is gifting to the nation in a forthcoming TV documentary on May 27.
I like to start the day with a dissonance and a 12-note row, saving the big tunes for funerals and barmitzvahs.
It’s a respectable difference of opinion, and one that we’ll never reconcile. I was arguing it out only last night at the Hatchards author’s party with Ian Skelly, co-author of his book on Harmony.
Still, I do admire Prince Charles for taking the high ground in matters musical and never stooping to curry favour with the music business, which would not know an ethical principle from a tub of lard. He keeps it serious and clean. He has even conducted an orchestra for his wife’s birthday.
The dumb-down show is a caricature of musical endeavour, a glam-fest for artists who can’t quite make the commercial big time and shelter instead under a leaking classical umbrella. Why is the Duchess of Cornwall giving royal cred to this sad crew? Is she secretly a fan of Il Divo? Does her husband know?
Her presence there can only undermine the good work he does.