The first concert of which I have any recollection was the occasion of the première of a symphony by Glazunov. I was eleven at the time, and Glazunov was the heralded new composer. He had extraordinary powers of ear and memory, but it was going too far to assume from this that he must be a new Mozart: the sixteen-year-old prodigy was already a cut-and-dried academician. I was not inspired by the concert.