My colleagues in Helsinki are torn between exultation and tears. A scholar has found what looks like a draft of the eighth symphony that Sibelius destroyed, and the music has been rushed down to the new concert hall for an impromptu performance.

Is this the sound of Sibelius's lost Eighth Symphony?

Read all about it here in the English edition of Helsingin Sanomat, by Vesa Siren, and listen to three fragments on video (if the links work). The conductor is John Storgårds.

This could be the biggest musical discovery of the 21st century.

The cello played by the late Bernard Greenhouse of the Beaux Arts Trio was a 1707 Stradivarius.

Much rarer than the Master’s violins, it is one of about 60 surviving Strad cellos, and known as the “Paganini, Countess of Stainlein”. Of its particular ‘Forma B’ type Strad, there are exactly 20 in existence. They do not come up often for sale.

But at the request of Bernard’s family, his Strad will not be auctioned off in an overheated room like a superannuated Fabergé egg to a pack of Russian oligarchs. Instead, the firm of Reuning & Son are accepting sealed bids from prospective purchasers until December 1 and will finalise the sale in January.

 

Dismayed by the latest airline assault on a peripatetic instrumentalist, the far-flung soloist Lara St John has pointed me to her essential travel tips.

Read them here. They may not get you an automatic upgrade, but they’ll keep your instrument out of the hold and you out of jail.

Do feel free to share further tricks and refinements.

The chief executive has sent a memo to staff, telling them what happens next and trying to reassure them that all is not lost. Roger Faxon is no great stylist, but he manages to see the sunny side of the takeover, and he needs to prevent a talent drain until the last legal hurdles are cleared and the company is dismantled by Universal and Sony.

Read his memo here.

 

A debut album by Paul Mealor, whose anthem Ubi Caritas was chosen for the Royal Wedding in April, gives an unexpected insight into the origins of what some felt was the finest musical moment of the occasion.

Mealor, who has previously said that the invitation came completely out of the blue after the couple heard a track of his music, now confesses that the song was originally written to Tennyson’s poem, Now sleeps the crimson petal.

However, he adds, after some debate, it was felt that the Tennysons words weren’t appropriate for a religious service, so I suggested resetting them to the sixth-century Christian prayer ‘Ubi caritas’ and this piece was born.

And the nature of the objection?

Now sleeps the crimson petal is an erotic, sensual poem that compares human beauty to that of the rose and lily – the closing of the lily representing the union of two lovers.

Well, you can’t have that at an Abbey wedding, can you?

Listening to Ubi Caritas at the wedding, I was less impressed than many colleagues, finding the music synthetic and rather strenuously ingratiating. Listening to the two versions side by side on Decca’s new recording, I can see why. The music fits perfectly to Crimson Petal, more awkwardly to Ubi Caritas, not unlike some of the cousinly costumes seen on the great occasion by 2.5 billion people around the world.

The recording was made six weeks after the wedding, in St Jude-on-the-Hill church, Hampstead Garden Suburb. The performers on the album are Tenebrae, conducted by Nigel Short, and for one piece (the Stabat Mater) they are joined by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

The Norwegians may have backed down on their refusal to allow a cello in the cabin, but you don’t push an Aussie air crew over that easily. Oh no, you don’t, mate.

At least that’s what my mate Tor Fromyhr Tor Frømyhrexperienced  when he tried to hold onto his 1890s Degani violin, worth the price of a downtown apartment, during a flight from Canberra to Brisbane at the weekend. He was made to remove the instrument from its case and put it on the floor, underneath his seat, exposing it to serious risk of damage. Happily, the violin survived for Tor to play the Bartók concerto in Brisbane.

Tor, who is head of strings at the Australian National University, went to press with the story. Qantas refused to comment. I’d avoid booking with them until they do.

Every now and then, airlines start an anti-instrument campaign, usually under the guise of ‘security’or ‘anti-terrorism’. Mostly, they back down, once the bile rises in the passengers’ gorge. Come on, Qantas, say sorry and start again.