The Nation's Favourite Aria

English composer wins Radio 3 title.

BBC Radio 3's poll to find "The Nation's Favourite Aria" came to a rather unexpected conclusion last week. Knocking Mozart into second place, 17th-century English composer Henry Purcell's "When I am Laid in Earth" -- often known simply as "Dido's Lament" -- from his opera Dido and Aeneas was named the winner. Not bad for a nation once described by Mendelssohn as, "the land without music".

Launched back in May, the competition was entirely driven by listeners, who nominated their personal favourites, creating a shortlist which was then put to a final vote.

Despite nominations from an astonishing 15 of his operas (15 more than Purcell ever composed), Italian opera favourite Gisuseppe Verdi failed to break into the top ten. He was in good company however, with Bizet, Rossini, Handel and Beethoven also failing to make the grade, and even Puccini only edging into fourth place with "E lucevan le stelle" from Tosca.

The shortlist was described by Rupert Christiansen in the Telegraph as, "quite highbrow", and is disproportionately dominated by works from the more obscure outreaches of the repertoire. Coming in at number nine is Mozart's "Ruhe sanft", taken from the early and obscure singspiel Zaide -- an unfinished work only rarely performed. Also among the top ten are arias from Korngold's Die Tote Stadt, Saint-Saens' Samson et Dalila and Dvorak's Rusalka -- none of them exactly core operatic repertoire.

With a dedicated slot on Radio 3's Breakfast Show, the competition seemed to signal yet another attempt on the part of the BBC to emulate rival station ClassicFM, with its often interactive, listener-driven programming and accessible tone. Just a few months ago Radio 3 launched their first ever classical chart show, a clear response to pressure from ClassicFM's ever-growing audience figures.

Voting with their feet -- or ears -- however, Radio 3 listeners have here emphatically declined a move into populism. Keeping football anthem "Nessum Dorma" firmly out of their line-up, they have shored-up the station's reputation for highbrow obscurity with their choices, even championing the "Liebestod" from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde -- a piece that stretches the definition of "Aria" well beyond its elastic limits with its organic through-composed conception, and goes some way toward undermining the bleeding-chunk mindset of the competition itself.

At first glance the list looks like the result of audience over-compensation; a charitable interpretation might see it as the result of well-informed listeners keen to share their little-known favourites with a wider audience, while less well-disposed commentators might equally justifiably see it as a public exercise in showing-off.

Either way, Radio 3 executives take note: your audience have spoken and while they're undeniably fond of a good tune, they'd rather it didn't come from Carmen. Geek-chic has officially leapt off the catwalk and onto the airwaves. Perhaps now is a good time for the BBC to halt their ClassicFM-style makeover, and return to the earnest, challenging, good-quality programming that they do so well.

Watch top three arias here:

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Politicians and fashion? Why their approach can be telling

My week, from spying on the spies to Theresa May’s fashion charm offensive – and how Sadiq stole hearts.

About nine months ago I was asked if I wanted to spend a morning with Zac Goldsmith, as he appeared to be wakening from the slumber that had obviously taken hold of him when he decided to run for mayor of London. However, after about three minutes in his company (maybe less, actually) I realised that not even his campaign team – let alone voters in the Borough of Southwark – thought he had a hope in hell of winning.

There was only ever going to be one winner, and the enthusiasm with which Sadiq Khan has been greeted by London has been heartwarming. He won the politician award at GQ’s Men of the Year Awards a few weeks ago, and I’d never heard such a roar as he leapt up on stage to collect it. Well, I’ve heard such roars for the likes of Michael Caine, Elton John and Amy Schumer, but rarely for a politician. In fact, the last time there was such fulsome applause for a politician at the GQ awards was when we gave one to a pre-Sextator David Blunkett. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised: the last time Noel Gallagher graced us with his presence, he asked: “Is this what a Conservative party conference looks like?”

 

On the dole

The recent past is being hauled over so repeatedly that soon there are going to be ­retrospectives of events that happened only last week. Or next week. On paper, the new exhibition at the V&A in London, entitled “You Say You Want a Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966-1970”, seemed slightly behind the curve, but the reality is very different – as it’s probably the best exhibition you’ll see in London this year.

This is all down to the curation, which was handled by Geoffrey Marsh and Victoria Broackes, the wizards behind “David Bowie Is”, the most successful show in the V&A’s history. It’s a terrific exhibition, although being reminded of the cultural and political insurrection of the Sixties also reminds you of the period’s seemingly innate optimism as a new London was mushrooming into life. Winston Churchill was dead, abortion was about to be made legal and the rise in happiness seemed exponential. Britain was experiencing almost full employment (though the government wobbled slightly in the spring of 1966 when it was announced that the jobless total had gone up to half a million). It never occurred to anyone that there might not be a job
waiting for them when they left school or their red-brick university.

 

Priced out

There certainly won’t be a house waiting for them, not if they intend to live in London. The marketing bods behind the new development at Battersea Power Station came in to make a presentation at Vogue House a few weeks ago, showing us lots of slides and videos about their fabulous ­development. There’s a Frank Gehry this and a Frank Gehry that, a swimming pool, a private members’ club and lots of artisanal independent retailers selling organic rhubarb and fancy beer, blah blah blah.

Their roll-call of “good things” included the ominous words “affordable housing”, but this appears to be anything but. After the presentation, I promptly stuck my hand up and asked them what they actually meant by affordable housing. The answer I got wasn’t satisfactory, so I asked again: “What does your entry-level accommodation cost?” And the very charming man with the lapel-mike coughed apologetically and almost whispered, “£350,000.” At which point I made my excuses and left.

The idea that my daughters can one day get on the property ladder in London is pure fantasy, and they certainly won’t be living in Battersea, or indeed anywhere near it.

 

Back in fashion

Last Thursday, Theresa May hosted her first reception at Downing Street for the British fashion industry, an event that usually takes place twice a year, and which is attended by fashion designers, industry figures, newspaper and magazine editors and the like. ­Samantha Cameron was always a significant supporter of the sector (which contributes more to the country’s GDP than the car industry), as was Sarah Brown before her, and it is instructive that May has decided to follow in their footsteps.

It’s also telling that Mrs Cameron was not only invited to the event at No 10 but turned up, which says a lot about both women. Theresa May is a fundamentally shy person, yet she not only made a pitch-perfect speech in front of a Brexit-sensitive (and quite possibly suspicious) crowd, but chose to embrace the opportunity to espouse the growing importance of an industry that was so closely associated with the wife of her predecessor. There is such a lot of noise at the moment surrounding the PM’s apparent lack of interest in remaining on good terms with David Cameron, so one wonders what, if anything, is going on here. Taken at face value, May’s move at the reception was extremely classy.

 

The spying game

The following day I found myself in Cheltenham for a five-hour briefing on counterterrorism, cyber-defence, drug smuggling and child kidnapping at GCHQ.

I had expected the place to be like the Foreign Office, but it’s actually more like Google, Apple or Nike, and feels as though it could easily be a campus on America’s “Left Coast”.

There is an incredible sense of purpose at GCHQ, a feeling that they are all working for the common good, and frankly I found it infectious. While the denizens of Silicon Valley might be very adept at pushing the frontiers of consumerism, designing training shoes, telephones and algorithms, it felt far more appropriate to be spending time with men and women obsessed with making the world safer.

Dylan Jones is the editor-in-chief of GQ and a trustee of the Hay Festival

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times