I am wandering the streets of Leeds this evening whilst listening to the London Requiem. It's a remarkably filmic experience. There's a bit of a gale blowing, and a light mizzle means the street lights and neon shop signs are reflecting on the dark Tarmac in a quite breathtaking manner. Like sparkling jewels in the darkness. Here a smudge of garish pink, there a deep purple ellipse. The traffic lights change and suddenly the world is green.
My little hotel, The Discovery Inn, displays its name to the word outside the train station in beautifully illuminated letters. Sadly the first few have blown a fuse, so it would appear I'm now staying at the Overy Inn. Oh for the little "a" that would make it the Ovary Inn!!
So, this morning, I took myself to Leeds Minster to look at the plaques to the Leeds Pals in the lady chapel there. Later in the day I had a meeting with staff at BBC Yorkshire to talk about the musical project. It reminded me of the first meeting we had about A Symphony for Yorkshire. It was even in the same room with many of the same people and the very same ratio of women to men, namely 8 to 1!
The rest of the day has been about pottering. Reminding myself why I love Leeds and its people.
It's so nice to hear the Requiem again and to have it blasting in headphones in my ear. It's a bloody good piece of music, you know. Obviously it's a little difficult for any composer to be objective about his or her work. We write what sounds good to our ears; what we find musically exciting or moving, however bizarre, old-fashioned, or dull it sounds to other ears. I can only say that I'm glad I wrote The London Requiem because it means I can listen to it on dark autumnal nights like tonight and feel proud!
It is a "bloody good piece of music", and you have every reason to be proud
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