<<<  <<  -- 4 --  Malcolm Troup    A PROTEAN MASTER

Our Valentine Day's musical love-in was at its end and everyone concerned could stretch and bask in the warm glow of a job not only well, but consummately, done. Already the ubiquitous Toni was at it dismantling the stands. The only thing that we could not bring ourselves to believe in, on a night the magic of which had suspended any attempt at unbelief, was the possibility that this was the first of a series. Unless we could turn the year into 365 St Valentine's Days, I doubt that the outpouring of love lavished on every last detail of this stunning spectacle (I almost said conjuring-act!) could ever be repeated nor, inimitable as it was, should we even try. Enough that we had been there to tell the tale -- if being beside ourselves the greater part of the time does not disqualify us as witnesses. We must leave it to Judge Stokes, whose spirit surely accompanied us throughout the evening, to decide!

What is beyond any doubt is that, however ephemeral the Syred Sinfonia's life-expectancy may prove to be, this was a Royal College of Music event in all but name! -- one which reaffirmed the seemingly unlimited creative energies on tap, apart from albeit a part of the institutional staying-power of that august body, when professors and students, past and present, join forces on neutral ground in pursuit of such a high-minded mission.