Syde order

The Carducci Quartet returned to Syde Tithe Barn this afternoon for the first in a Summer series of short early evening concerts. We were treated to delicious performances of Haydn's Joke Quartet and the Ravel of a century later.

What a space for chamber music - and on the most perfect afternoon of sunshine, when the Syde garden was looking at its  best. And it was our wedding anniversary!

"Last minute. Come!"

This time yesterday, we were looking forward to a quiet evening at home. It seemed a busy enough week ahead, and already the effects of a month away are wearing off. But who can resist an invitation to step into the shoes of someone who can't make use of their tickets for an Angela Hewitt recital? Her programme at Chipping Campden was hardly the usual one: it contained only one major work, but when a pianist's presence and virtuosity is so unusual, this becomes an irrelevance.

Late Haydn variations were followed by a sonata by one of his greatest fans, written only a couple of years later. For Caroline, the early Beethoven was the evening's highlight: I found the performance a little clunky. It has sent me back to Schnabel, who seems better at catching the sweep and lilt of this relatively inconsequential music.

After the interval, Bach's G minor English Suite was by contrast made to sound effortless, and then came Liszt's Dante Sonata, the most dramatic of antitheses. Somehow, Angela Hewitt had energy left for a rapt account of Strauss' Morgen, in Max Reger's transcription, and to sign autographs.

We drove home the quiet way, the last of the light prevailing against some inky clouds.

The Carducci Quartet

We were at Syde Tithe Barn on Saturday evening for a short recital by the excellent Carduccis. It was lovely to be able to watch them at such close quarters - playing Haydn Op 20 No 5 and Mendelssohn Op 80. They milled around with us all afterwards.

Takács Quartet

Once more, the Cheltenham Music Society has triumphed, in securing the Takács Quartet for their tour's only UK out-of-London recital: recognised as one of the world's leading ensembles, last night they played for a packed Pittville Pump Room audience Haydn's "Lark", Britten no. 3 and Dvořák Op. 51. Could the programming possibly have been influenced by all three works being led off by the second violinist, Károly Schranz, 60 this year? Whatevs.

Talking to Alec Hamilton beforehand, I learnt that he "suffers" Haydn. Poor man! How else can you account for Beethoven? There are a couple of bars in the first movement of the "Lark" and more than a couple in the last movement that pre-echo even late Beethoven.

And without Beethoven, no Britten: his intense last quartet formed the meat course last night. The soaring violin of the Ostinato 2nd movement even outmatching in its eloquence the leader's role in the "Lark" opening.

You can still hear the Takács playing the Haydn and Dvořák (at the Wigmore on Monday) via the iPlayer for five days more. They look and sound like a happy bunch. With their talent, they are as generous as Bill Gates says he would have all the American Presidential candidates be - but some hope there!

Also on Monday, the young Russians making up the Atrium Quartet were broadcast live. Catching up with them on the iPlayer, I admired their early Beethoven in particular: a different sound, but gripping. This quartet is one to watch out for.

Nice music, shame about the sales

Five wonderful concerts have been given in Tetbury church during this year's festival. Music by Schubert (Paul Lewis), Bach (Jonathan Cohen's Arcangelo consort) and Victoria (The Sixteen). And hotchpots on Saturday from the Elias String Quartet (in the morning) and Steven Isserlis with Dénes Várjon (in the evening). For me, perhaps the highlight was the quartet's performance of Haydn Opus 64, No. 6, but any such choice is invidious. The standard was uniformly exceptional: it was a great privilege to hear so many fine musicians in such lovely surroundings. And what a great programme book!

By contrast, my exhibition was a flop. People came, yes: indeed it was a highly sociable weekend. However, sales at the Gallery were few, and certainly mine were far from enabling me to meet my framing and mounting costs. As I have always said, people in England just don't seem to buy photographs for display; or is it just mine? Certainly, the punters this weekend were mostly of that age when they might be thought to have already lined their walls, which is why so often over these past four days one heard the excuse, "But I don't have room for any more!"

The Borodin sound

A legend in its field, the Borodin String Quartet has been playing to a packed Pittville Pump Room this evening. The Quartet's formation during the latter years of World War II coincided with our first Cheltenham Music Festival. The present four are inheritors of a great tradition: you could tell it - even from the back of the hall - from their first appearance. But the playing too was distinctive: a sedate, oddly humourless Haydn ("the Bird"), monumental early Beethoven (Op 18(1): what a first movement that has!), and some memorable Shostakovich - if that's your bag: I'm afraid it's not mine, at least when it comes to Quartet no 3. Perhaps it was the glass of wine I had in the interval.

Coming home towards 10 p.m., after all the rain we had a still-bright sky behind us and steely greyness ahead. The white terraced fronts of All Saints Road took on a spooky look: Alfred Hitchcock would have loved it.

Marc-André Hamelin

This French-Canadian pianist came again to Cheltenham last week: for me and for many I've talked to, his recital has been the highlight of our Music Festival so far - as I was reminded when listening to the recorded broadcast on Radio 3. You can Listen Again to this till next Tuesday morning: go to this page. The slow movement of the Haydn F major sonata is still running through my head. My friend Jeremy Tyndall, whose views I respect, was sitting next to me: at the end, "The first movement of the Schubert," said he, "was far too slow - too much about architecture." I disagreed. Judge for yourself!

With such musical excellence, it's peevish to complain. But if you know me, you will not be surprised that I do, on two aesthetic counts. First, I loathe the Stygian gloom into which the Pittville Pump Room is plunged by the curtains being drawn. This problem seemed to have been cracked last year. There are volunteer helpers around: if there is a potential risk that people will walk past the windows during the performance, then why not post someone outside to redirect them? The interior of Cheltenham's most beautiful building looks so much better in daylight.

Secondly, the size of the catering marquee grows like Topsy. The picture I posted with my blog last week was taken at last year's Festival. At least then one could see some of the front of the Pump Room from Pittville Park, but this year it is impossible to walk into the Park during a concert interval without going through a tented city - which (with its ill-matched hoardings) completely dominates the view when walking up from the town centre. What a shame! I thought this was supposed to be a Festival of Music, not another Festival of Food & Drink.

4 & 16

Two contrasting but equally memorable concerts on consecutive nights! What luck! On Sunday, we went to our Pittville Pump Room for what had been billed as the final concert in the Cheltenham Music Society 's season. The Takacs Quartet seem like old friends, but we always feel enormously privileged to have them back: they played the first and last of Brahms' quartets, which they are recording this week: see the YouTube video I have posted for an earlier recording of part of the first. But I would find it hard to listen to an all-Brahms recital, and the jewel of the evening for me was the Takacs playing Haydn's op. 74 no. 3, The Rider. The final movement in particular was sublime.

Then, this evening we were at Chipping Campden (at the kind invitation of our good friends Eric and Carmen Reynal) to hear The Sixteen in pieces by Monteverdi and Hans Werner Henze, mixed with poetry - recited by their conductor (and founder) Harry Christophers and his wife. The magical setting of Campden church and the entirely white middle class audience contrasted starkly with the pain of Edward Bond's text for Henze's Orpheus Behind the Wire and the poems of Denise Levertov. This was an extrardinarily cohesive and compelling programme, performed by a phenomenal group.