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Last night Viv hosted a small supper party in her garden; she takes our welfare seriously and as the Zombification process was gaining ground again with the Online and Music teams, she felt a little tlc would help us connect with the real world again. There was a Welsh/Italian birthday party going on next door; the music choices ranged from ABBA to Torna a Surriento so we felt right at home. It was a blissfully stress-free evening save only for the tendency of Spike the Dog to bark his head off and perform startling leaps on to the five foot high ivy-covered walls in order to stake out his territory and face off the neighbours. I did get a bit behind with my writing though...
The big day has arrived; in the wee small hours I've managed to write my article on Clare College, and I can now give all my attention to The Final. For those of us in the Online team, that means checking that all our systems are in place and running as they should. Viv has a great deal to do; more people are emailing and messaging and she has to get the site templates ready to receive my copy, plus rushing to and fro across the road with tapes to make images before the real stills come in from Competition snapper Brian Tarr. No-one should underestimate how fiddly and time-consuming working in the web environment is; perhaps the trickiest thing is making sure that all the internal links in the pages which cross-refer to additional material are pointing to the right place, function, especially when page content is changing all the time. But you don't want to read about our grief, you want to know what happened!
Well, during the afternoon I went to see Tommi and record a short interview after his camera rehearsal. I'm amazed at how apparently relaxed he is. I don't think it's just professionalism he seems to be unusually centred and have a sense of inner peace. Whatever happens, he'll take it in his stride, and I feel quite privileged to have been spending time with him every day of the Competition. (This is perhaps the moment to reveal that Graeme has been helping Tommi put together his diary entries - Ed). He's been everything we would wish for in an 'Online' competitor: open, honest, thoughtful, and funny! And we'll certainly be supporting him in the show. (That won't mean, of course, that I'll be suspending my critical faculties, certainly not!)
The day builds to a crescendo when the audience is called to assemble in the Hall at 5.45pm. Huw Edwards replaces Petroc Trelawny as the TV anchor man, and as some you have remarked in your emails, this seems rather unfair. Huw is of course a well-known figure in national TV and bilingual in Welsh and English; but perhaps that should be offset against Petroc's experience of presenting classical music, knowing what questions to ask, and the meaning of the answers; Cardiff Singer is a show which needs more than a compere.
As before, I post reviews on the website as the Finals concert is taking place, and I also have to roam around with my portable DAT recorder doing little interviews for my World Service feature. I say hello to my friend Clive Barda, down from London to photograph the Final; these days he's shooting using a combination of a specially silenced 35mm film camera and a digital camera, which doesn't make any noise. He's placed next to a camera position within earwigging distance of the jurors; sadly he has to dash back to London straight afterwards so I won't have much of a chance to pick up the goss.
The Final proceeds with all its usual BBC smoothness. I discover from my friend John the senior house security officer (he always checks on me when I'm working late in the cubby-hole, not to throw me out, he assures me, but to make sure I'm alive and well) that, unbeknown to virtually everybody, the fire alarm went off halfway through the show; but the system checked itself and found it was a false alarm before emitting the high-pitched siren which would have signalled a general evacuation. In a live broadcast, even one which is being delayed by half an hour as this one is, that is a terrifying prospect - it would be impossible to get everyone out and back in again within the half hour. Then the event would run late and God knows what would happen with the machine that creates the 30-minute deferred relay; I suppose something would be broadcast in place of the sight of a couple of thousand retreating backs as everyone trooped outside.
I begin tapping away, for the last time, at THE SILENT KEYBOARD. Tommi pulls out all the stops and clearly has lifted his game. I press the 'Send' button on the computer to flash my review to Viv, who's on Web Watch at BH in Llandaff; she immediately replies saying, "Blimey! That was quick." The audience respond warmly to Tommi. I can't of course hear anything that Barbara Bonney, the TV expert, is saying to Huw, but I find out pretty quickly because your emails start coming in, reacting to what's going on: for and against!
Next up is Elena, who doesn't move much and once again we're all astounded at how this huge, mature sound could emanate from a such a young singer. Markus is next and as, along with Tommi, he's also doing the Count's aria, it's a chance to compare apples with apples. Markus offers some music I haven't heard before: Pierrot's Dance Song from Korngold's Die Tote Stadt.
I'm puzzled by Erin's choice of repertoire and slightly disconcerted by her performance which doesn't fulfil the promise of her winning concert round. I wonder if she's nervous, but things come together better in her Strauss song, and as a member of the Chicago Lyric Opera studio, no doubt she was cheered to hear the leading scream of 'Bravoooooo!' from the unmistakable voice of Matthew Epstein...artistic director of Chicago Lyric Opera.
At this point my computer crashes. I saved the copy and manage to unblock the software. But I still have to reboot the telephone connection, and it's some time into Angela's programme before I am able to send Erin's review. I vow never to do this again unless we have an ISDN line (and a new laptop wouldn't go amiss either - mine's knackered).
Angela rounds off the singing with, again, a slightly surprising choice of repertoire. The audience was clearly expecting another blockbuster performance, and the music didn't quite supply it.
During the half-hour break to cover the judges' deliberations and to allow the TV audience to catch up, I go backstage to see Tommi, who gives me a cool assessment of his performance. His dressing-room is tranquil, with only an occasional visitor from the TV production team to enquire into his well-being. Knowing of his admiration for Sherrill Milnes, I'm happy to tell Tommi that Sherrill had listened very intently to his performance, and was the first to applaud when he'd finished.
Then the announcements: no-one is surprised to learn that Angela has won the Audience Prize (least of all me - I'm privileged to receive that information earlier in the evening Under Pain Of Death, so that I can look at the actual figures for voting on the various platforms: live audience, phone, text and web. There was a lot of support for Elizabeth Donovan of Wales, but Angela carried the day.
My last email to Viv contains my tips for the prizes. I decide not to make predictions but to say who I think should win. My vote goes to Tommi, for the outstanding performance of the night. My vote in the Song Prize went to Markus Werba. Although I knew that Angela had won the Audience Prize I would not have been offered long odds on that if I'd placed a bet at William Hill.
Mad Muppet Moment No 1: Ailish wins the Song Prize. It evidently took her completely by surprise, and she may have been thinking about the tough masterclass she'd experienced the day before with Gundula. Ailish was called from the audience and could not suppress her tears when making her way back to her seat after the presentation. This was a popular decision with the crowd; Gundula smiled beatifically and I reckoned this prize was an investment in Ailish's future.
Mad Muppet Moment No 2: Chairman Anthony Freud says it was very close: TOMMI WINS!!! After the Online Team, the singers themselves are the first to jump to their feet, and once they've thought about the wisdom of the decision for a nano-second, the audience erupts in spontaneous warmth. Viv emails: 'ROCK ON TOMMI!!!' I shed a tear. Going down to the stage to congratulate him, I arrived just as a man in a T-shirt and cut-off cargo pants says, "Mr Hakala: on behalf of the Stage Crew I'd like to offer our congratulations on a superb and deserved win." I've worked backstage. I'm really touched by that remark.
Then it's time to clean out the Ashtray, pile the stuff up in the cubby-hole ready to load into the car later on, and off with my DAT recorder to the official party. Menna Richards, controller of BBC Wales, makes a judicious speech of thanks and a bouquet is presented to competition administrator Anna Williams; she insists it's all a team effort, but as Menna remarks, the team says its the leadership of the team which counts. Menna concludes by stating quite categorically that in 2005, it will be BBC Singer of the World IN CARDIFF. There is a roar of approval. I do my last interviews with Ailish, Angela, Anthony Freud and say goodbye to Tommi and Viv who's arrived hot-foot from BH. It all gets a bit tearful and I leave the company, sad to miss the knees-up back at the Hall. The night ahead of me will involve a couple of hours kip in a layby somewhere on the way to Norwich, and I'll be home in Suffolk by 10am, ready to write this. Can't wait to do it all again!
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