The Ministry of Education (which is also the Ministry of Religious Affairs), had become a den of idolatry, he announced heatedly. Shamelessly exposed in a public lobby of the Ministry was a plaster cast of the famous Zeus — or Poseidon as the statue is more popularly thought to be — with all his glory in full view. The bronze original, fished out of the sea off Cape Artemision in 1928, is one of the major attractions of the National Archaeological Museum.
This provocative issue of Spathi came into the hands of a god-fearing monk of Mount Athos, Brother Nestor Tsoukalas, who resides at the hermitage of Saint Anne. This hermitage lies teetering on a particularly inaccessible terrace at the tip of the Holy Mountain and was dedicated to Saint Anne in the seventeenth century on the acquisition of her left foot from a church in Erzerum.
The forty-year old Zantiot monk at once decided to take matters into his own hands. Not about to settle for a strategically placed fig leaf, he slipped a sledge hammer under his cassock, and making his way down the Holy Mountain, descended into the profane world. Reaching Thessaloniki at noon on March 30, he boarded the night train and arrived in Athens shortly before seven o’clock the next morning. When the Ministry of Education opened its doors at eight, Brother Nestor was there, ready and waiting. He entered the lobby and headed directly toward the offending idol without arousing the suspicions of the soporific employees. After standing a moment in silence before the magnificent figure of Zeus athletically flexed to hurl his thunderbolt, Brother Nestor, similarly posed,. drew out his sledge hammer from under his cassock and set about demolishing the Father of the Olympian Deities.
Lopping off the extended left arm first, and then the backstretched, slightly-bent right arm, Nestor finally aroused the government clerks who rushed forward and disarmed him. He was then led way from the wreck of smashed limbs and other appendages to the First Police Precinct where he was booked by the Public Prosecutor on the charge of doing wilful damage to public property. He was later released. Until such time as his trial takes place on May 11, the good monk,contemplates, in the seclusion of Mount Athos, his victorious assault on the city of Mammon.
Strike Up The Band!
TO BECOME General Director of the Athens State Orchestra, one must be either a noted conductor or a composer. As for the latter achievement, however, there is some ambiguity as to what kind of music. Therein, it would seem, lies the heart of the problem that has arisen over the selection of a new incumbent.
Of the many applicants for the position, only two were serious possibilities in the minds of most people: Manos Hadzidakis and Mikis Theodorakis — both musicians known to the public primarily for their popular music and cinema soundtracks (Hadzidakis for Ne ver On Sunday, Theodorakis for Zorba the Greek, among others). Neither, however, is currently known for his devotion to the music of the symphony orchestra.
Theodorakis, however, his present reputation notwithstanding, underwent traditional classical training. He is a graduate of the Athens Conservatory and, ironically, one of his early mentors in Greece was the founder of the State Orchestra, Philoktitis Economides (to whom Theodorakis dedicated one of his symphonic works, Oedipus Tyrannus). Theodorakis spent five years working and studying in France where, as a student at the Paris Conservatory, he studied conducting with Eugene Bigot. Before deciding in 1959 to devote himself to being ‘a truly Greek composer’, he received considerable international recognition for his ‘classical’ compositions, winning the First Gold Award at the Moscow Music Festival in 1957 and the American Copley Music Prize as best European composer of the year in 1959. His works in the ‘classical’ genre were being played as early as the 1950s by L’Orchestre National de France as well as the Athens State Orchestra. Most recently, one of his concertos was included on the latter’s April 15 program. His ballet music meanwhile was being performed by the Ballet de Paris and his Antigone was premiered by the Royal Ballet at Covent Garden in 1959. Thus, his credentials are in order. Whether or not Theodorakis would have made a fine General Director of the Athens State Orchestra is another matter. Nevertheless, he was not considered and was passed over in favour of Manos Hadzidakis, a man of considerable charm but questionable qualifications. He has had little formal training. He is very talented, indeed, but as a composer of light, popular music.
Needless to say, this appointment has raised a hue and cry in the Greek press, of various political hues, most attributing Theodorakis’s exclusion to political motives. (Contrary to the widely held belief, Theodorakis is not the darling of the Communists being something of a political renegade. The protests came from the liberal-conservative as well as the left-leaning press, and members of Mr. Mavros’s Centre – Union Party led the objections raised by the parliamentary opposition.)
It certainly cannot be denied that Hadzidakis’s appointment was highly irregular, and in many ways an insult to serious music in Greece. It is well known, for instance, that the new director is an intimate of those currently in the nation’s highest political circles, and that the regulations governing the selection of a General Director were altered to allow his appointment in the absence of the necessary qualifications.
The fact remains, however, that the members of the State Orchestra preferred Hadzidakis and even went on strike to ensure his selection. He is, moreover, a man with inherently good ideas and one who possesses a completely honest view of himself and his own musical shortcomings. He has so much as said he does not deserve the job but has promised to do his best to fulfill its responsibilities. He has further promised higher salaries for the musicians — a necessary move in itself and one that enhanced his support among the orchestra members — and called for the construction of a genuine music centre, or at least a symphony hall, for Athens. Neither of these sentiments are original, of course (these are crying needs, ignored far too long), but presumably the orchestra members felt that Hadzidakis may be in the position to remedy the situation.
However, why should the controversy pivot around Hadzidakis and Theodorakis in the first place? The existence of highly qualified, serious musicians and conductors in Greece, not to mention the many working abroad, is clear to anyone who takes the trouble to attend concerts. Why then were they denied the chance to reach the top of their own declared profession? In this respect, the government is guilty of a needless affront to our own underpaid and scarcely appreciated musical talent, and has held its actions up to ridicule by other European Nations. Could one imagine Paul McCartney, for all his talent and originality, becoming Director of the London Symphony, or even, if chosen, accepting the position? Serious music in Greece has been eclipsed in recent years by bouzouki, pop and more recently rebetika, and has been thoroughly neglected. (Surely there is a place for all kinds of music in our society?) Perhaps the members of the Athens Symphony believed it to be time they leaped on the bandwagon and reaped whatever benefits they could from the prevailing mood. If so, their instincts may be correct.
As a conductor, Hadzidakis has irredeemable failings, which were clearly demonstrated when he undertook to conduct Dido and Aeneas at the Lyriki Skini last November, but as an administrator he may turn out to be better than we dared hope. Certainly his tenure as Music Director of ERT, the National Broadcasting Network, has led to a vast improvement on radio. He is known to the public, and his connections with the top may not hurt the currently pathetic music budget. This is a most circuitous approach, however, to a possible solution to a sorely abandoned musical tradition. Meanwhile one can only hope that Hadzidakis has a very good concert master.
The Festival of Unpopular Songs
IF POLITICAL pundits were listening, the 1976 Eurovision Popular Song Contest, broadcast from The Hague on April 3, may have been a gauge of the social unity or disunity of Europe. The winning entry entitled ‘Save Your Kisses for Me’, came from a lively British group called The Brotherhood of Man. Under these circumstances, it is unthinkable that Mr. Callaghan would now consider taking Britain out of the Common Market. The Greek song entry, however, caused anything but brotherly feelings in neighbouring Turkey. Although Turkey did not take part in the contest, they broadcast it over radio and television — that is, until the Greek entry ‘Panagia Mou, Panagia Mou’, sung by Mariza Koh, came on. The song, a mother’s lament vaguely related to the Cyprus events of 1974, caused Turkish television to switch it off and substitute in its stead ‘Mumleketin’ (My Country) which was the big hit-parade number during the Attila Invasion.
Greece came in a poor fourteenth place out of eighteen entries even though France, with whom it is known we have a ‘special’ relationship, threw eight of its votes behind us. Several days later, Manos Hadzidakis, by way of consolation, commented on the ‘mediocrity’ of the Song Contest saying that he was sorry Greece had not come in last.
It is true that Mariza Koh is one of our most successful singers and from a vocal point of view her performance was excellent. As a television performance, however, it left much to be desired. Most of the other participants tried to put over their songs, performing for the audience with whom they seemed to be sharing fun. By contrast, Mariza Koh participated in what was, after all, a popular song contest with the solemnity of a Wagnerian soprano performing at Beyreuth and only barely acknowledged the cameras or her audience.
This aloof style of performing has become the fashion among most of our singers in recent years. Either they are taking themselves too seriously or else they do notknow how to perform. Songs are delivered with grimly deadpan or tragic facial expressions and little movement, conveying an impression of disdain for the audience.
This was not always the case. Not so long ago singers such as Beba Kiriakidou, Stella Greka, Sofia Vembo, Nikos Gounaris, and Tonis Maroudas, to name a few, used to get up on stage and perform like troupers. Today too many of our singers act for all the world as though they were doing their audiences a favour by permitting them to witness a solemn rite. As mediocre as the Eurovision contest may have been, it had certain things to teach our pop singers. To begin with, that they should climb down from their pedestals and begin behaving like the entertainers they are supposed to be and not like high priests of a sacred art.
