The Voice

There is music and there is music.

Any citizens who can drag themselves away from the pounding inflexible rhythms in a typical Ipod or similar sounds in a city centre shopping experience should get themselves to the nearest spot of quiet woodland and listen for the stunning song of one of our commonest birds, the blackbird. It is at its best in the middle of May and there is simply no creative event that can compare with it however much you're prepared to pay.

My local blackbird, much as I hate to criticise him, does not have the advantage of the essential ingredient of a woodland acoustic. His heroic work from the television aerial beats most of the stuff that comes from the local transmitter. But it's the resonance that returns his own sound to the woodland blackbird must influence the quality. All the best concert halls have wooden panelling which is one reason why Sheffield City Hall is unsatisfactory. And town birds are  always a bit more pressing. It's the easy relaxed delivery that wins every time. Born to sing, no need for forcing.

This is the standard by which all music should be judged.