Press coverage

The Sunday Times, 1 August 1993

The Stage and Television Today, 15 July 1993:
"If you discovered your granny standing on the beach and singing to the sea, the chances are you would soon be picking up the telephone to the bidea-wee retirement home and pack her off there before the neighbours started to talk. Not so the Bulgarians. With their country struggling to adapt to capitalist values, they have found a way to put the old lady to constructive use in the service of the state. Why litter the Balkan coastline with senior citizens when you can send them to someone else's shoreline in the name of art, international relations and, the tourist industry? Fortunately, the pioneers of this policy, the Bistritsa Babi (the Bistritsa Grandmothers), boast a pretty formidable eight sets of lungs and know a melody when they hear one. Billed as one of Bulgaria's finest singing groups, they will be exposing their talents to the elements when: they appear in Northumbria later this month." (Ed. Jeremy Jehu)

The Independent, 27 July 1993:
"Early on Saturday evening a convoy of three double-decker buses and a flotilla of smaller vehicles set out from Alnwick - the seat of the Duke of Northumberland - and drove the few miles to the coast for the last of the Work's three performances. There was recognisably an art-crowd on board, but also some properly qualified members of the general public. An outing mood inevitably prevailed. We disembarked at a lay-by above the dunes, descended, and made our way along the beach to a wide cove. The Grandmothers were already there, and into their first song. The weather was almost too cooperative: a very fine evening, the wind silent, the waves nearly motionless, no tide apparent. Dressed in the image of postcard folkloric costume, the Grandmothers stood lined up on the edge of the shore, facing out to sea. The audience gathered around in a three-quarter circle. The number finished. They turned to face inland, and sang again. " (Tom Lubbock - read full article)

The Sunday Times,1 August 1993:
"Glyndeboume it wasn't. Nor, since this was not the evening when the performance was blessed by a double rainbow over the sea, as on the following night, did it have quite the intensity that Huws may have been hoping for. Yet the simplicity of the setting - no lights, no amplification, no scenery beyond what nature supplied - had its magical effect. None of the local people I spoke to afterwards found it anything less than delightful. Northumbria's strong folk-singing tradition may have created a sympathetic audience, but it was understood that this was not intended as a folkloric event. Intuitively, the setting and the susurration of the waves were understood as part of the work. One woman wished the waves had been louder, "like in Fingal's Cave". The singing continued for about 40 minutes, during which time the waves slowly retreated. A solitary fishing boat appeared, and there was the rumble of a jet. The women linked arms once more, and, still singing, walked off along the beach." (Robert Hewison)

Frieze, issue 12, September/October 1993:
"The location for Huws’ A Work for the North Sea is a bay on the Northumbrian coast near Alnwick. Apart from this being a place where land meets water, there are several other dualities present in the work. The first is the Bistritsa Babi’s unique way of singing. They are the only group in Bulgaria to sing both antiphony and plyphany, whereby a lead singer, (or caller), sings a random, freeform harmony set against the monotones of the backing singers. The song is then, more often than not, pressed back and forth between tow groups of four Bistritsa Babi. The random drone, along with the polyphany of the backing singers, gives the song a melancholic density which is sad and fatal, and at the same time transcendental." (Gregor Muir - read full article)

The Observer:
"Vikings tumbling off their longboats lolloping in the foam, U-boats lurking in the shallows and tabloid reporters beachcombing for sexually abused dolphins - the North Sea has seen some pretty odd things. But the sight of eight Bulgarian grannies warbling polyphonically into the wind as the high tide lapped against Sugar Sands, south of Craster in Northumberland, must take the allcomers' biscuit for oddness." (John Sweeney)