Recently Mark Morris has been exposing everyone within earshot to Ivor Cutler, culminating in the recent dance A Wooden Tree starring Mikhail Baryshnikov, reviewed well by Joan Acocella in The New Yorker.
Last week one of Mark's composition assignments at the Dartington choreographer/composer retreat was "Women of the World." My hasty transcription reflects the duet with Linda Hirst more than Cutler's solo version.
At the masterclass I met Sebastian Scotney. (I can't believe LondonJazzNews wasn't on my blogroll before.) Another vital voice of the jazz internet, Ronan Guilfoyle, was there too. (Trio dialogue: Michelle Mercer, George Colligan, Ronan.)
I played terrible at the masterclass, which is one reason I give them, of course. Put up or shut up! I'm still learning "the art of solo piano" for sure…
I joked at the Vortex that if there wasn't anybody at the masterclass the next morning I would just go around the corner from the Royal Academy of Music to the Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street. I love A. Conan Doyle, I've been to that museum before.
Afterwards, on the way home, I made the mistake of watching 10 minutes of the American Airlines-supplied Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, which managed the rather miraculous feat of being much, much worse than I could have imagined.
Holmes as anonymous action hero is bad enough. Moriarty killing a bitchy Irene Adler is unforgivable. How dare Guy Ritchie and his minions dare sully one of the few feminist icons from an almost all-male milieu? Irene Adler is "The Woman" because she casually bested Holmes in a political showdown. To reduce her to a drab pawn is an insult to women everywhere.