Amidst the coruscating party conference commentary might I just slip in a small musical note akin to that so enjoyed by Matthew Parris in his terrific article in this week’s Spec? He was entranced by a single phrase played on the violin, cutting through the artificial flurry and tension before the transmission of a live television broadcast. On Friday night I was similarly transported by the glory that is two people making music together. In the eastern crypt of Canterbury Cathedral, as a dirty night pressed itself up against the windows and the rain sluiced down, two old friends – friends who had been choristers together in the same cathedral – played piano and flute in a programme of music they had devised and in some cases arranged between them. It was a small shining miracle of trust, affection and untrammelled musical empathy. And every note dropped unerringly into the hearts of those lucky enough to be listening.
Henrietta Bredin
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