‘The songs I write are love songs and their love’s a different kind,’ Dick Gaughan sings to us.
Back in the day, Alistair McGowan’s Big Impression was a firm family favourite in our house.
‘I haven’t been up this late for thirty years,’ Elizabeth McGovern of Sadie and the Hotheads smiled at us, having danced her way onstage.
‘Extraordinary how potent cheap music is.
Nuala Kennedy has a beautiful lilting voice that suits her ‘cheerful-sounding murder ballad’ songs perfectly.
Clad in a collarless shirt and black leather waistcoat, Mike Whellans strode on stage and opened his set with ‘Cornbread, Peas and Black Molasses’, proceeding into a John Lee H…
Communication is key in ensemble playing.
‘We’re very lucky,’ alto and soprano saxophonist Sue Mckenzie explained in her introduction to ‘Catching Sunlight’, a collection of pieces by jazz pianist/composer Dave S…
I’m not sure what Chopin had for lunch, but it would appear it was full of beans.
St Andrew Camerata opened this enchanting programme of music with Faure’s ‘Cantique de Jean Racine’.
The intense concentration with which Katalin La Favre begins this performance of percussion and spoken word is to continue throughout the show.
At its core, music is maths.
Centotre’s Italian food is delicious.
Hot Chocolate at 10 is an opportunity to see ‘late night classical music in the heart of the Old Town’.
Jyotsna Srikanth is a South Indian Carnatic violinist.
King Creosote is no stranger to Queen’s Hall.
“In Da Club came out in 2003, not 2005!” I found myself shouting across the dance floor at around half past two this morning.
John Betjeman, the much loved household name, wrote works steeped in British heritage and humour, taking place in landmarks from Margate to Westminster Abbey.
The age old question whether a white man can sing the blues was answered fairly conclusively at the Space on Niddry Street last night.
‘I know what she’s going to write,’ Lach drawled in my general direction from the corner of his mouth, ‘it was all going well until the vagina bit.
My journey up the driveway of Prestonfield House involved admiring highland cattle and dodging coaches.