CHRIS SEARLE recommends a work of love and deep admiration for a great musician
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UP UNTIL now, I’ve been able to compile a batch of gig reminiscences and tour stories in virtually all my bimonthly columns this year, which bears witness to the number of performances I do.
But I’m off the road for a couple of weeks at the moment and this gives me the ideal excuse to tell you about a few of my favourite things. Well, one of them, anyway.
Raindrops on roses? Whiskers on kittens? Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens? No, sorry. Slovenian martial-industrial-classical-experimental fake-totalitarian musical satire, as applied to the work of Rogers & Hammerstein.
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