Last month's interview with the Philharmonia's managing director David Whelton caused an odd fuss in the papers—odd because of what they chose to fuss about. Rather than picking up on Whelton's criticisms of South Bank Centre management, press interest was piqued by his worry that it is becoming more difficult to attract the public to orchestral concerts. "Pop diet is killing cultural Britain," ran the headline in the Observer, while the Independent's headline implied that Whelton had described "British audiences as dumbed down and unwilling to listen." In fact, when talking to Prospect, Whelton had been careful to say not that popular music is inferior to the central tradition of classical music, but only that it is alien to it—and talking to the Independent, he went to the heroic lengths of describing Eminem and the Streets as "terrific" (at least he didn't risk "wicked"). But it was clear that the story everyone wanted was that of some high-cultural toff impertinently dismissing the taste of the many. What this in fact showed is how removed even the educated middle class has become from classical music. While it is still socially acceptable to like independent films and write off blockbusters as frivolous, or to judge literary novels to be worthier reading than airport fiction, it is now culturally suspect to think that art music might have more value than pop. What's new is the resentment at any suggestion that, in ignoring classical music, people are missing out on something whose greater requirements for concentration might provide more rewarding aesthetic experiences. In making it a point of cultural honour that the manager of an international orchestra should recognise how terrific the latest pop groups are, it is as if we expected the manager of Manchester United to devote himself to the excellence of his team, but still to affirm that football is no more worth playing than tiddlywinks. The real story would have been if David Whelton had said that what he does is no better than managing a pop group. Thankfully, he's not that dumb.
Dr Who's Welsh leak
A lot will be riding on the new, 13-episode series of Doctor Who, scheduled to start in March and starring Christopher Eccleston. For the first time, the series is not being produced in London. It has been commissioned by BBC1 from BBC Wales, under the stewardship of Swansea boy Russell T Davies, best known for Queer as Folk. Cardiff, Swansea and Monmouth serve not only as alien planets, but also as London in both Victorian and modern times. The BBC were determined to poach Davies from the independent networks, and apparently bringing back Doctor Who was the price he demanded. A high-profile London launch that had been pencilled in has allegedly been cancelled in favour of an event in Wales. It may seem small, but this is like a Tardis—the cultural ambitions of the new Welsh establishment crammed into the one box.
The pubdaq quiz
Pubdaq (www.pubdaq.com), the internet trading game where players buy and sell imaginary shares in people from the publishing industry, was launched two years ago this March by book2book. As a guide to the state of the industry, its value is questionable, but as a map of the ambitions of a certain group of publishers, the game is rather revealing. At first Pubdaq was played for fun, and share values reflected the standing of superagents like Ed Victor and Jonny Geller. But now Pubdaq has 350 registered players from across the industry, and someone has noticed that share price is easy to manipulate. Victor and Geller are crumbling, and one publishing house is taking over. Three executives at the otherwise unexceptional Hodder Headline are in the top ten, with shares in Jane Morpeth, director of fiction, trading at a record £1.12. The dividends board is topped by Kerr MacRae, also of Headline. Publishers have the advantage over agents of being able to command assistants and publicists, while agents only have authors for company. In Geller's words: "If I discovered authors were playing it, I might take more notice...
