This week we’ve got Kreizburg conducting us, and god, I’d forgotten what a weirdo he is on the rostrum. He twitches, and shudders as though he’s being electrified in slow motion. At times, it’s impossible to tell what the bloody hell he’s trying to do, and yet sometimes, well once actually yesterday, I glanced up and saw exactly what I needed.
Plus he sweats like a pig. It takes around 20 bars or so before the first drips make their way to the end of his very pointy nose, plunging into the score, or the front desks, depending on the prevailing wind.
There is an unsettling rumour that he’s knocking off the soloist, Julia Fischer, which if true, is frankly baffling, because she’s gorgeous! Almost every man in the orchestra is fighting a losing battle with his instinct to stare open-mouthed, and almost every woman is visibly scornful of the weak-willed men they have to share a stage with.
