We were introduced at
a café near Cutty Sark. He was a music writer of some importance, 59 years of
age, and he dedicated most of his life to writing about classical music. His
knowledge was vast. Listening to him talk about Schoenberg was like listening
to David Hockney talk about Picasso. Riveting. He was one of the nicest and
most intelligent people I’d ever met. A complete madman though.
He had this oddball
theory that every piece of classical music written in the 20th
century was, this way or another, a representation of a sexual intercourse. Sipping
red wine of some little known Italian province, he was looking directly at me
and probably wondering if I was getting any of that. At various points during
our lunch I tried different topics, but there was nothing else he wanted to
talk about.
Stravinsky’s Apollon Musagete was his favourite
example. ‘Perfect showcase’, he repeated a number of times. “Apotheosis”, the
final part of the ballet, was talked about at great length, and he got me
through every detail that he said reflected the last act of a coitus. Sometimes
he would lose me and I would just stare at this really expensive tie that must
have cost a fortune.
It was daft, his
whole theory, but I liked the way he talked, and wanted him to go on –
wondering, as our conversation was reaching its climax, if there was a single
act in the 20th century that did not resemble a sexual intercourse. Wondering what he thought about
this horrible pop music blasting from outside the café. And what kind of
atrocious gang-rape it represented.
