Oh this sent chills down my spine. Here is an account of John Williams' last night's performance in London. Do yourself read this, put on some headphones or slip a disc in place and imagine, that's what I did the second time I read this. God I wish I could have been there. I bet you're thinking the same thing. Oh well...
The only tiny bit of news I have for you is that I saw the John Williams final night, July 4th no less, at the Barbican here in London.... I actually went with some apprehension (blasphemy... but here me out!) as the evening was billed with only two of his film scores... the vivid Cowboys with its motifs and histrionics, and the stirring JFK seeming possibly controversial on a portenteous date like the 4th of July.... The other music included compositions by the great man that I had no idea even existed such as: The Reivers, Discovery, a Tuba piece that made me long for Jabba's theme or Close encounters.... and some other 'original' works....
I was disappointed when the Cowboys suite was second in....I would be left with just one other piece of music I could humm by heart.... but the London Symphony Orchestra were sensational and rose to John Williams brilliant conducting to create a mind field of musical blasts, soaring colour and wind caressed landscapes that held the audience entranced..... for those of us who have never seen the Spaghetti western landscapes of coarse grass and flotsam and jetsum people filled with hope for a new world... here was the soundtrack, not to a film but to a slice of history.....
John Williams seemed to be reveling in HIS music, the sounds that told very different stories to anything inhibited by pandering to the whim of a director... he was treating us all to a private moment that would never be shared with us again.... he knew this, and the couple of thousand people here tonight were empathic, we all felt nothing but intense, gut wrenching admiration for this genius composer standing before the ultimate vessel of his magic, the sumptuous LSO.
The disappointment I had initially felt at missing the film score nights gave way to an avalanche of appreciation for just being there, seeing this man work magic, not in the over used jargonised metaphoric sense, but real, bona fide magic.... it was not difficult to imagine him conducting Beethoven, or Prokofiev with a verve and dynamism that the old masters may well have gasped at.... here was living proof that genius is not some label to slap onto any 'clever or talented' individual we admire.... here was a man so filled with talent that the air congealed with the force of the notes incandescantly spilling from the rapt musicians in his thrall.... musicians rising, pulling, plucking and blowing like the possessed - bereft of sense by the all powerful archmage and his arcane lore of music....
The end appeared nigh.... John Williams spoke to us for the first time.... speaking of the Star Wars trilogy, the Indiana Jones films and annoucing to our constenation and mutual gasps of excitement that he would play a few 'longpulls' - a ridiculous understatement, rather like Leonardo Da Vinci saying here is a girl with something on her mind that I knocked up this afternoon.
Almost with condescending ease he waved the LSO into a CD perfect rendition of the Raiders theme - so perfect that the Barbican became a transcendental portal, a Wells Time Machine perhaps, returning me to a teenage high, being seduced by a story of Nazi's, the Arc and an Archeologist in a hat, all playing in technicolor before my eyes....
I have a friend who can recite the lines to any of the Star Wars films just be listening to a passage of music from any of the CD's.... at this moment I understood, for in this music was grandeur and spectacle beyond words, for this was no mere 'soundtrack' - this was a reconstruction of the film, the character, the script, everything that was, is and will be Raiders!
Next John quietly announced Schindlers List, describing it simply as a 1993 Steven Spielberg film.... again understatement managed to overwhelm.
The piece was simply breathtaking... in the literal sense that the audience simply did not breath, sigh, cough or make any noise.... such was the reverence in which we collectively subscribed to this music... in this case the film did not appear, but feelings of sadness, lonliness, a bitter hope for a future for a generation scarred by horror... the jewish zeitgeist uttered not in a wail, but in a prideful, resolute violin straining to be heard above the tears of those who sympathise but can never empathise with such inhumane desolation..... the poignant performance of the solo violinist brought tears to many in the audience.... for me it was almost too overwhelming, finding a dry, resolute part of me that wanted to acknowledge the message of hope underpinning the despair... the ray of light through the dust of the rockslide of emotion the LSO were relentlessly, brilliantly creating.
We roared into a standing ovation with Raiders! As the final strains of Shindlers List were cruelly taken from us we sat for a full beat... looking at one another with expressions of awe, tears, child like smiles of amazement... and then we clapped and clapped.... my hands stung but I grit my teeth and clapped, determined to force my approval down on to John Williams through sheer dint of will. The ovation continued reveberating around the hall, washing back on each of us, inspiring whistles and shouts the wall of sound encouraging us to further adulation.... a kind of mexican wave of one-up-manship that moved back and forth daring anyone to sit down and be mobbed as the lone philistine in a temple of true fanatics!
My skin prickled as a part of my brain whispered that there was only one piece missing from the musical mozaic tonight.... and sure enough the first notes of the Throneroom/End Titles of Star Wars took the LSO to new heights, almost frenzy as if the musicians knew this was the last night, the last chance to excel. The music hardly needs describing. I found myself leaning far forward in my seat, staring at each of the musicians, at the maestro animated in the maelstrom of his music, trying to sear the memory deep into my mind... trying to capture the moment and hold it close to my soul. The music swelled beyond the confines of the hall again taking us all on a trip through a celluloid barrier and deep down into our collective memory... no matter how many times you see Star Wars the thrill of that first childhood experience (for me a special preview in Holland) sends jangles down the spine... little did I know that some twenty odd years later I would be watching the amazing composer recreate this magic. The music ended far to quickly... tragically we rose again as one single applauding entity... willing our hero to encore again and again.... all night, all week if the whim took him... food and drink, sleep and sex were minor concerns if only he would stay.
It was not to be. He left quietly, humbly filled with dignity and perhaps even a little awe that the music he has so deftly composed could effect us all with a profound touch bordering on religious fervor. Why was I so moved? I think that there is only one way to sum up: ....Sincerety.
This was music that gave you everything. Music that talks directly to you on so many different levels because it is always sincere... honest... warm, soulful and Human... mere words fail (I hope I am making some sense?)
Music of a generation that will be looked back on with wonder in the coming millineum in the way that we look back at the great composers of past generations.... undoubtedly..... that I got to be a part of this history in the making.... well - WOW!
Anyway enough purple prose.... I must get to bed (it is 120am here in London as I write this!)
The Ghost of Mr Muir
