Martinborough has something for everyone: ‘Toast’, Dead pig competitions, Women’s football, Jazz Festivals, Round the Vines, and apparently, classical music for the musically bewildered.
At 13, I was banished to the library during music class—declared tone-deaf with zero rhythm and labelled a “hinderance.” So naturally, when invited to the festival’s opening night, terror ensued. However, the promise of a saxophone lured me in. I assumed I knew what string quintets would deliver. Tickets purchased, commitment made.
Disclaimer: In my numerous years, I’ve attended roughly four classical concerts. While never fully understanding what I was hearing, I clearly haven’t concluded “once is enough.”
Martinborough emerged in full finery – people certainly scrub up well, there were stacks of people whom I knew but didn’t recognise.
A reverent hush fell as musicians entered. I waited anxiously while the programme mocked me: “Allegro moto perpetuo” followed by Kodály’s “Allegro Serioso Non Troppo” – clearly serious, possibly forbidden in tropical climates?
It was wonderful. During the interval, sophisticated conversations swirled around me. All I knew was that I loved it. The violin and cello mesmerized me, as did the players’ facial contortions – each note apparently requiring specific grimaces. The cellist’s robotic head movements added theatrical flair. They seemed spiritually connected.
Kodály believed “music belonged to everyone.”
I was enjoying myself without understanding why. Sitting beside two ex-NZSO members, I naively whispered, “Is this any good?” Their emphatic “Heck, yes!” suggested I’d cracked the code.
The second half flew by: “Sicilienne pas vite”, “Grave” and “Très animé” – indeed animated! Poor Monsieur Chausson the composer died at 44 in 1899 after falling off his bicycle. Concert over.
The audience loved it, and so did I. Martinborough truly has something for everyone – the annual Martinborough Music Festival must be included in that comprehensive list. Go on. Next year give it a go.
