Music
Cracow daze
Peter Phillips
It was in vain, as I travelled to make my contribution to the European Cultural Month in Cracow, that I searched for evi- dence of the hopelessness of Poland's attempt to reform itself. It is true that we only performed in Warsaw and Cracow, the two most prosperous cities, but these two showed few signs of the apparently helpless turmoil in the country's political arrange- ments which we read about in our newspa- pers. Instead they sported well-dressed inhabitants, excellent restaurants and festi- vals which paid in sterling. The train which joins them, passing through some of the most unspoilt scenery in central Europe, took two and a half hours to traverse 200 miles. Perhaps this good impression would look a little different in, for example, Byd- goszcz, where the old, government- sponsored international festival has col- lapsed through lack of funds; but then per- haps in a year or two Bydgoszcz will also pull round.
Nor was I in a good mood. My state of health had been undermined by the excep- tionally high pollen count — the stuff was literally floating around those beautiful fields in drifts — in combination with the loathsome and possibly criminal contents of Bulgarian red wine. My state of mind had been affected by a demoralising inci- dent which had taken place at Lord's the day before our departure. In taking 20 runs out of an over from Asif Mujtaba in the Middlesex-Pakistan match, Angus Fraser had landed a six in the first-floor balcony of the pavilion, which ultimately had come to rest a yard or so from my right foot. Realis- ing in advance that the ball was heading for me, I had instinctively moved out of its way and into the arms of a young colleague of mine, my guest for the day, who, equally instinctively, was moving towards the ball in order to catch it. We ended up in a heap. I always wondered what I would do under fire. Now I know. So does he. I was still brooding on this unsatisfactory memo- ry when the nice man from Polish televi- sion asked me what I thought of the brand new concert hall we had just been broad- casting from. I said it had acoustics like unto those of a concrete box. I regret this now.
It came as a surprise to me to discover that there is a European Cultural Month in Cracow and, indeed, that it is being largely funded by the EEC. There can be no doubt that Madrid is the EEC's cultural capital of 1992 and that Poland is not yet a member of the Community. Nonetheless it appears that the EEC is making money available for the holding of festivals in cities of out- standing beauty in countries which might join before long. This is the first of them; next year the fund will go to Graz in Aus- tria. Did anyone know about this? I don't remember it being mentioned in any offi- cial statements of EEC policy. Quite what will happen to the hitherto annual but smaller-scale Cracow Days after this inva- sion is anybody's guess, but the municipal authorities expect to compete for the title of European cultural capital of the year 2000, twinned with Nuremberg. One begins to get an idea of how useful culture can be to politicians.
In fact the Italians contributed the most, and as a result are calling the tune. We sang Palestrina; but one of the biggest events will be the screening of all of Pier Paolo Pasolini's 22 films. Polish musical life is represented by Lutoslawski and Pen- `The crazy fool — you can't take Dead Man's Bend at that speed.' derecki, both of whom will be conducting their own compositions. A. host of leading Polish theatre directors are taking part, as is Peter Brook, whose Mahabharata will be shown. The festival runs for the whole of June, so you have yet time, if you feel sated with old Europe, to try this more novel ver- sion of Euro-life. However, let me advise hay-fever sufferers not to drink the Bulgar- ian wine: sneezing compulsively on a chem- ically induced hangover is like nothing on earth.
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