Liverpool impresses The Guardian
Source: The Guardian: Simon Hoggart's Week
So, maybe Liverpool isn't so bad after all!
Even a Mancunian must admit the people are friendly, and admire the civic pride and great architecture. But there's still no excuse for Gerry and the Pacemakers.
The Pier Head waterfront in Liverpool which rightly wins architecture awards.
I'll come clean. As a born Mancunian, who lived there a long time, I am obliged to detest Liverpool. The stereotype in Manchester is of a feckless, workshy city given to sentimental self-regard. As the City and United fans sing when a Merseyside team is in town: "And you'll never work again!" When local people told me it was "the greatest city on Earth" I would ask how many of the Beatles had come back to live there.
But this time, covering the Labour conference, I was impressed. The people were immensely friendly and the city has a real sense of civic pride. The St George's Hall has been superbly restored, the Walker Art Gallery is packed with wonderful paintings, the new Pier Head rightly wins architecture awards, there are loads of good restaurants and it's altogether a very pleasant place to be. There's even a statue of Billy Fury on the riverside, which makes a change from forgotten generals and aldermen. (Though I think that the locals should realise that however great the Beatles were, they were no excuse for Gerry and the Pacemakers.)
I went to the St George's Hall with my colleague Martin Kettle to catch the pianist Paul Lewis playing Schubert. The gussied-up concert room there is magnificent; it was packed, and amid the gold and the chandeliers, we might have been in Vienna.
Lewis is an astounding performer. He played three very difficult works – the last, The Wanderer, is so close to impossible that Schubert himself could not manage it, giving up during one performance and shouting: "let the devil play the stuff!" Lewis managed it perfectly – from memory. It was unbelievable in the literal sense that you could not quite credit that it was happening before your eyes. I have one cavil. Tradition apparently decrees that performer appears on stage, bows to the audience, and without uttering a word, sits down to play. I'm not suggesting that he should have yelled: "Hello, Liverpool!" even though it's his home town, but a few words about each piece – why he liked it, what the pitfalls were, a spot of history – would have been welcome and made us feel that we were listening to a human being, and not a sort of super-computerised pianola.
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