Theatre - The promenaders don their headdress and fly their flags. By Michael Portillo Last Night of the Proms Royal Albert Hall, London SW7

Swaggering toffs wearing silly clothes bray at each other and sound horns. It is a wonder that the Labour government has no plans to ban the Last Night of the Proms. In fact, as though sensing that they might be next on the proscribed list, the promenaders were pretty subdued in their revels this year, probably because it was 11 September. The date stirred memories of the Last Night three years ago when the American conductor Leonard Slatkin presided for the first time, almost overcome with emotion, to present a programme that had been significantly altered and shorn of many traditional elements in the three days following the attack on the World Trade Center.

This year was Slatkin's last, which was another dampener. While he has adapted well to the extraordinary rituals of the Last Night, and was beautifully relaxed conducting and speaking, everyone knows that things did not work out between him and the BBC Symphony Orchestra. The audience took its leave of him courteously, but it reserved its warmth for the orchestra's veteran leader, Michael Davis, in this, his valedictory concert. The promenaders initiated "For he's a jolly good fellow . . .", followed by three cheers. Only in England could this happen.

There was much to remind us of our American cousins. Thomas Allen sang "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" from Oklahoma! and "Where is the Life that Late I Led?" from Kiss Me Kate. But when Slatkin commented that John Philip Sousa's "Liberty Bell" reminded us of the bond between the US and Britain, the applause was less than overwhelming. How different is the sentiment now from three years ago!

Allen is a master showman who loves a crowd. He was in fine voice, filling the hall with his excellent enunciation. Some time back, he complained that record companies use violinists in wet T-shirts to sell CDs. On this occasion, he was without a jacket or tie, in a smock reminiscent of an old-fashioned dentist, but I concede that it remained dry throughout the evening.

The Last Night is a concert of two halves, as they say in football. Before the interval, Slatkin showed himself at his best, especially in the Dvorak overture "Carnival", which was fast and crisp. The soloist David Pyatt gave a fine account of Richard Strauss's first horn concerto, written when the composer was 18. (By the way, why is it that if you go to hear Wagner, you are made to feel guilty because of his "association" with the Nazis, but if you mention that you like Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier, no one bats an eyelid? Wagner died six years before Hitler was born, but Strauss socialised with leading figures of the Third Reich.)

Simon Preston shook the Royal Albert Hall at the keyboard of its organ for Samuel Barber's Toccata Festiva. From my seat, the organist was a tiny distant figure, but it was clear when he sat down that if he was going to see Slatkin, his rear-view mirror would need substantial adjustment - which produced roars of laughter from the audience. Then there were two black forms bent over the organ stops, as a television cameraman had come in tight for shots of the hands and pedalling feet. The BBC's concert broadcasts are superbly directed, always showing us the key musicians at the right moment, with lovely zoom shots, too. It's a pity that none of that is ever shared on screen with the audience in the hall - I know, the purists would howl.

The time had come for promenaders to put on Red Indian headdress, or those tall hats worn at football matches. A man-sized inflatable banana jigged up and down obscenely, and rude sausage-shaped balloons whizzed up towards the ceiling. There were whistles, and more motor horns honking than at Goodwood. Flags from every part of the UK competed with the colours of South Africa, Germany and the US. The females of the orchestra and BBC Symphony Chorus were turned out in fuchsia, peacock and luminous lime.

Bernard Haitink supposedly described the Promenade Concert audience as the world's most discerning. Their respect for music does not abandon them on the Last Night. Except during "The Sailor's Hornpipe" from Fantasia on British Sea-Songs (which Henry Wood might have written for orchestra and motor horn), they quieten down whenever the baton is raised and the house lights dim.

Another prom season has drawn to a close after 86 concerts and a quarter of a million tickets sold. Over the past few weeks, the performers have raised more than £50,000 by chanting at the audience in perfect unison that a leaving collection will be taken in aid of musicians' charities. From what I heard in performances by Haitink and Simon Rattle especially, it was a glorious concert series.

I used to think the Last Night was boorishly self-indulgent. Maybe that's just the way it looks on television. This year, I thought it merely an exuberance that is an integral part of Britain's heritage, which defies explanation to outsiders. A bit like hunting, really.

Post your comment

Please note: you will need to login or register before you can comment on the website