Back in 1924 George Gershwin was asked to compose a jazz concerto for a Paul Whiteman concert just a few months before it was due to happen. He had never written a full score before, only tunes which other people then arranged for the orchestra. He was unconvinced that he had much to contribute. But Whiteman offered the services of his own arranger, Ferde Grofe, to help out with the orchestration, and so Gershwin agreed. He wrote down a few tunes then put the drafts to one side while he worked on other music. Just five weeks before the concert, a friend pointed out an advertisement in the newspaper - the concert in which Gershwin’s (er, as yet unwritten) jazz concerto was to feature. Talk about leaving it all to the last minute! Gershwin started writing rapidly, and so did Grofe who had the orchestration finished by 4 February. The concert was on 12 February, and with Gershwin himself playing the piano solo part - well, he had not actually written it all down and was still needing to make some of it up on the night (the price of procrastination!) - his spectacular Rhapsody in Blue was born.

Yet a little longer ago, back in the autumn of 1874, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (then aged 34) wrote his very first piano concerto. Since he hadn’t written one before he sought the advice of his friend Nikolai Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky sat down at his piano and played. What happened next was staggering. Rubinstein rubbished it. He called it “worthless, unplayable … passages were trite and awkward … as a composition it was bad and tawdry … only two or three pages could be retained, the rest would have to be completely revised”. Tchaikovsky was livid, speechless with fury, and so refused to change one single note of it - and thank goodness for that! It is now considered one of the greats of all time.

Last month our NZ Symphony Orchestra performed Gershwin with amazing pianist Kevin Cole at the keys. One could be forgiven for believing in reincarnation (although I actually don’t myself) as performance-wise this American pianist is a true George Gershwin clone. He was marvellous, being as the music was, roguish and cheeky, dreamy and thoughtful, funny and jolly, romantic and passionate, lively and teasing… he was all of those things, his facial expressions playing the part as much as his hands on the keyboard. And this month the Paris-resident Irishman, Barry Douglas, delivered the great concerto initially rubbished by Rubinstein in a rousing performance full of energy and thrills. However, methinks that Steinway Grand will need a right re-tuning before it is rolled out into centre-stage for the next performance whenever. Barry Douglas and Kevin Cole, like Gershwin and Tchaikovsky before them, are both pianists extraordinary.

But a word here about conductors as well. Estonian native, Olari Elts, has lots of talent - no doubt about that. He just seemed to be rather stiff down the centreline, as though his jacket was made of cardboard or excessively starched (but you don’t starch jackets, do you?) and the collar far too high. I was a little worried that he might topple domino-fashion if he tried to bend at all. But it was Yan Pascal Tortelier (ex BBC Philharmonic) who got the ovation for most entertaining conductor. He was magnificent, such an energetic soul and getting a real work-out up there on the podium. I was terrified he would step back a little too far and dance right off the stage, into the lap of the lady two seats in front of me. But by the end of a rather dreadful piece of music by an entirely different composer who should remain nameless (albeit played so well by our world class orchestra) he had so many of us laughing - including the orchestra players as well. There was a standing ovation for his antics. When he tried to pass the compliment on to the orchestra instead, our young Finnish concert master (who was laughing as well) took him by the hand and drew him to the front of the stage to take the bow for himself. Conductors can be such great performers in their own right at times. Now all that remains is to get them actually saying “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen” (or anything really) just as a polite way to start the show. So few of them speak, but I am quite sure that they can - and if only they would. **Sigh**

Oh yes, and this is my second go at writing the above. The first go was infinitely better - quite poetical, in fact. But guess what happened? Yes, you guessed. I clicked on “Save and Continue Editing” and the whole thing went away and demanded that I log in all over again! The back button did not help one bit. Somewhere between “Click and Continue Editing” and the back button, my words had been eaten. Well, I hope that geeky leprechuan has very poetical hiccoughs as a result of all that, but I guess it was a repeat lesson in the value of doing a copy-and-paste from Notepad instead.

Back again soon, very soon, most probably Tuesday (it being a special day for Kiwis).