. . . those lectures . . .
In the sixties of the last century (1964 and 1965) I used to go along to the Institute of Contemporary Arts (and at least one other group, of which I forget the name) to hear Boulez, Stockhausen, and similar continental visitors lecture on their productions. I do not now remember anything at all that they said. All I remember is that on each occasion the audience consisted of much the same set of thirty or so mostly young people, and that there was always present a certain red-headed gent from the Russian embassy, who would attempt to make conversation with the audience during the intervals. I suppose the Russians thought that the Boulez/Stockhausen lovers were the cream of Britain's younger generation, and were attempting to gather them in before they crumbled away. (Which they actually did do when the seventies came round.)
