Inside a wedding cake

You want to know what it feels like to walk around inside a multi-tiered wedding cake? Claustrophobic! I know because last night I went to a concert in the grand hall of the Tbilisi conservatoire, and getting from the front door to the hall is just like ....

You climb some stairs from the street, and then walk deeply into the building to climb some more, only to find yourself going round a doughnut shaped gallery with a low ceiling from which you look to the floor below. At this level you practically retrace your steps to the spot above the entrance door, climb some more stairs, turn around again, climb some more stairs and then take a long hike, past the doughnut, to finally find yourself at the entrance of the hall. Don't leave it too late!

The hall is stunning - like everything about the conservatoire it's freshly refurbished, with seats that are the most comfortable concert hall seats I have ever sat in - only problem is that they have crammed them in so close to the pillars holding up the gallery above that one needs to be a bit agile to climb around them. The stage is also freshly renovated and has large side panels that can be turned to slow either a solid wooden wall, or act as flies for a show; at the back of the stage there is a huge modern organ. Apparently this is now the main concert hall in Tbilisi; not surprised, really....

The concert was of the students of one of the professors at the music academy; of varying quality, it must be said. The programme was far too long - and should one of the students really be allowed to hog the limelight with 6 Rakhmaninov studies/preludes, when her colleague had already played 3 before here? Far too much of a good thing. In Tbilisi you get an announcement before each piece about what is being played - one poor student rushed out before the announcement, before stopping and being pulled back. Not good for performance nerves.

The students don't seem to be allowed to move here at all; they all sit as if they had swallowed a cane, until they get to the closing chord. It does not make for lively performances. Though I always remember the piano teacher doing the accompaniments at my childhood music school; she moved for Germany and put in all the emotions that the young soloists usually did not.

The other little ritual that they have is the cleaning of the piano with a hanky; I've only ever seen that done in Eastern Europe. It makes perfect sense especially when other sweaty fingers have already played the piano, but it also seems to be a bit of a comfort ritual. Some cleaned the piano very thoroughly. Others spent forever adjusting their chairs....

As the evening wore on, the performances got better, but when after all the students had finished, they launched into videos of an elderly Georgian pianist playing several pieces, I fled.

It has confirmed my view that piano recitals, unless they are by brilliant players, can actually be rather boring! It's such an introverted instrument - the player cannot look at the audience, is stuck there in front of a box that cannot move.....