‘A more hopeful kind of patriotism’: a first-timer goes to the Last Night of the Proms

I was starting to stress about where I could hire a tuxedo from when my editor reassured me. “You don’t have to wear black tie to the Proms!” she laughed. No, not even a suit. Anything is fine, she said. “Really?” I asked, doubtful. My perception of the Last Night of the Proms – a bunch of toffs in dinner jackets braying about Empire, a kind of musical Bullingdon Club – was clearly off the mark. What else had I been getting wrong about it?

Many things, it turns out. Not only is black tie not mandatory but the Proms finale revels in what can only be described as “some seriously strong lewks”. On the hottest day of the year, nobody bats an eyelid at the strapping bald man who is topless save for a sparkly union jack waistcoat and bowtie, nor at the daring decision of one man to combine dress shoes (no socks) and shorts. “Look over there,” I whisper to my wife, pointing towards a couple sat to our right. “Rabbit people.” A man and woman are wearing strap-on noses and ears as if they’ve arrived straight from the set of the Wicker Man. Clearly, anything goes here.

I’d thought it would be a bunch of toffs in dinner jackets braying about Empire. What else had I got wrong?

Was I also wrong to have expected a slightly unpleasant nationalistic vibe? In the past, Guardian reviews have compared the Last Night of the Proms to hooliganism and even the Nuremberg rallies. It’s true there are plenty of union flags being waved tonight, but they’re easily outnumbered by the EU ones that have been handed out to punters outside for free – a smart bit of guerilla marketing by anti-Brexit campaigners.

The Last Night of the Proms is undeniably very silly. People let off streamers, throw around huge rave smiley balloons and one person seems to have brought their own parping horn for the sea shanties segment. Everyone “oohs” when the light-up wristbands we’re given at the start blink into action. And when balloons are let off, there is a growing cheer as they fly up towards the ceiling before finally fizzling out. But before all that, the music gets a very decent hearing. This year’s programme has an elegiac quality, softer and less bombastic than the music I was expecting, and – especially when it came to the first Proms airing of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s Deep River – more soulful too. As a pop writer, I enjoy picking out where the likes of Ennio Morricone and Sufjan Stevens might have nabbed a few of their ideas from.

From left to right, Alsop, soprano Lise Davidsen and cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason. Photograph: Mark Allan/BBC

The Last Night has had a pretty awful run in recent years. In 2020 it went without an audience due to the pandemic, and was the subject of a tedious culture war regarding whether or not the words for Rule, Britannia! should be sung. A year later things had improved, although the choirs were still restricted by social distancing guidelines. Last year looked set to be trouble-free, until the death of the Queen prompted its last-minute cancellation. I half worried that the organisers would announce that RAAC had been detected in the Royal Albert Hall’s ceiling this year.

A swarm of EU flags wave throughout Rule, Britannia!

In truth, it’s hard to attend an event with such patriotic trappings without thinking about the state of the nation. Outside this glorious building is a nation in decline. Schools can’t open, hospitals can’t cope with demand and you can’t swim in the rivers without encountering human waste. Tonight could have felt like the establishment squirrelled away in a building, enjoying their opulence. Instead it feels more like a shifting of the national mood. The energetic conductor Marin Alsop – the first woman to conduct the last night, back in 2013 – gives a speech about diversity and bridging the gender gap. There are numerous pride flags. Yes, the audience is still overwhelmingly white, but the highlight for me is soloist Sheku Kanneh-Mason’s gorgeous cello playing, and there is rapturous applause when the spotlight lands on James B Wilson, whose 1922 (originally intended for 2022’s Last Night) was composed in honour of the BBC’s centenary.

For all the hot air from the government and their culture war proxies regarding Proms traditions and what it means to be British, they’re the ones delivering swingeing cuts to the arts and the BBC, apparently blind to their value beyond how they can be used for political gain. As the final traditional segment of patriotic bangers rings outs – Land of Hope and Glory! Jerusalem! – and a swarm of EU flags wave during Rule, Britannia!, there’s a different, more hopeful kind of patriotism being displayed here. It’s doubtful I’ll ever be donning the rabbit ears or sparkly Union Jack waistcoat, but I wouldn’t say no to coming back.

Watch on BBC iPlayer here. All this season’s proms are available on BBC Sounds until 8 October