Album titles are often throwaways: Destroyer’s Dan Bejar has admitted he just picks words to look pleasing on the sleeve. But sometimes they are laden with meaning: you didn’t need to hear Joni Mitchell’s Blue to guess the gist; Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was the diagnosis for a decade. So when Jay-Z and Kanye West dubbed their mythical alliance Watch the Throne, they implied it would be an exercise in setting the bar.

The hype surrounding this release was by no means ex nihilo: it was fed by the gilded cover art, the pop-up store in Manhattan, the exorbitant samples, the exhaustive roster of production credits and features. Here were the two biggest MCs in the game bestowing upon us proof of their firm grip on the aforementioned throne (jointly-held though it may be).

To succeed on these terms is nigh impossible: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy managed, but it could only have been a product of West alone. Despite this, the optimists wished for something more from Watch the Throne than name-drops of Dolce and Louis; we got worse: Louboutin and Hublot. This streak of hip hop – mid-austerity no less – manages to find a level of materialistic gloating previously unknown. The most jarring disconnect comes on ‘Murder to Excellence’, a purported homage to inner-city homicide – “314 soldiers died in Iraq, 509 died in Chicago” – suddenly interrupted by Jay-Z’s debauched interlude: “It’s a celebration of black excellence, black tie, black Maybachs.”

The cynics were right of course: what else could you have possibly expected from such a team-up? Taken knowingly, Watch the Throne is a mildly enjoyable slice of boast-rap. Skipping the built-for-billboard ‘Lift Off’ (on which Beyoncé’s admittedly considerable talents are mostly wasted) and the crass braggadocio of ‘Gotta Have It’, it’s fairly solid in its own run-of-the-mill fashion. The album even occasionally impresses, with standouts like first single ‘Otis’ (that absurdly includes the late Redding in as a ‘feature’) and the surprisingly candid fatherhood worries of the RZA-produced ‘New Day’. All eyes may still be on the throne, but its gild is beginning to flake.

Arrietty, a tiny person living under the floorboards and ‘borrowing’ items from the humans above, first appears as a flash of red in the long-grass half seen out of the corner of a child’s eye. Shô, a sick boy who has come away from the city to live with his aunt, is fascinated by rumours of ‘little people’ in the house and he grows more and more interested hoping (in his own shy way) to protect them from the villainous housekeeper. Based on Mary Norton’s The Borrowers, this animation’s plot and setting feel more European than the majority of previous Ghibli offerings. The film is both an unexpected take on the children’s book and another surprising turn from Studio Ghibli: fans of either the book or great writer/director Hayao Miyazaki won’t be disappointed.

Arrietty is interested in curiosity in all forms, from the obsessive detective work of the housekeeper to the pre-pubescent embarrassment found in the relationship between Shô and Arrietty. Shô gapes wide-eyed at Arrietty as she picks bouquet sized bay-leaves at her own level, while the animals, whether ants scampering over a block of sugar or grasshoppers squabbling over a dropped flower, show an equal wonder for the world around them . The imagination displayed in Arrietty is impressive, establishing a unique set of rules and scales for its imaginary world: early on, Arrietty’s mother is pouring tea from a miniature kettle, drop by drop. When her mother tells her, ‘I do hope your father wasn’t caught in the downpour,’ we are all the more concerned for having been acquainted with what counts for a raindrop in the world of the borrowers; while not dangerous per se, a rain storm for Arrietty equates to being pelted with several gelatinous cups of tea. The film’s imaginative reconstructions of everyday objects at times resemble a series of Russian dolls – when Arrietty and her father clamber out of the exit to a secret passageway (a fireplace in a doll’s house), there was a genuine murmur of amazement from children in the cinema and incredulous whispers of ‘Where are they now?’. Children are greeted with the gentle surprise of discovering new equally peculiar environments within the wider but economically drawn house and gardens.

Experiencing the film in cinematic surround sound really brings its incredible soundscape to the forefront. In a striking moment, Arrietty steps out onto a kitchen surface. For the borrowers sound is subtly distorted: the creaking of burdened shelves, the noise of the metal pipes behind the wall or the sound of little-shoes across a makeshift staircase of nails are all amplified and, as in the case of a grandfather clock, can sound monstrously oppressive (although speech is miraculously heard without difficulty in borrower/human interaction). The dubbing too was excellent. There was very little of the over-earnest voice-acting anime fans have learnt to loathe. Will Arnett was especially well cast as the asocial Shô. Having praised the intricacies of the soundscape the ‘celtic’ flutey music could be a little intrusive at times, but this is a niggle. 

This film isn’t a goggly eyed big/small adventure: the remit of The Borrowers or Honey I Shrunk The Kids was to evoke perpetual excitement by unveiling blown-up miniature after miniature, each more potentially dangerous than the last: giant falling milk bottles, killer bugs etc. etc. The chief seduction of Arrietty is not just the wow-factor of exploring a smaller world. Arrietty hopes to make its world not progressively stranger but more and more familiar. Having been invited into their world the danger is not cartoon but immediate and emotional. Fear is not the only emotion the borrowers associate with being seen by humans; when Shô sees Arrietty for the first time, she pulls up a tissue to cover herself, blushing, as if he had caught her naked. In place of terror and heart-racing danger, Arrietty offers serious and emotional peril for every character and expects an audience to be genuinely concerned, and we are. It might be worth seeing the film on a Sunday afternoon, just to make sure there are children around, so that you can gasp and whisper along with them.

The Proms has come a long way from its humble beginnings in 1895. Since the BBC’s involvement in 1927, the festival has continued to expand both in scope and in international attention. This is of course reflected in the continually ridiculous (but entertaining) last night of the Proms; and this year, also in the excitement of the first. Opening with a commission from contemporary female composer Judith Weir and ending with Leoš Janáček’s Glagolitic Mass (performed by the BBC singers), the night encompassed an astonishing variety of musical styles and nationalities, and provided a platform for contemporary composition that is much needed in the current musical climate. Sandwiched between the two was Liszt’s Second Piano Concerto, performed by Benjamin Grosvenor. Having burst onto the public music scene with his performance in the BBC Young Musician competition seven years prior, Grosvenor was the youngest artist ever to open the Proms. He’s proving to be quite an artist to watch, and his concerto performance was measured and pleasing, if not breathtaking. His encore was a slight letdown, but it was a comfortable Proms debut. The highlight of the evening, however, was the Glagolitic Mass. Sadly under-performed, the mass was given a superb rendition. On a similar note of under-performed brilliance, the critical acclaim for Stephen Hough’s recordings of the Saint-Saens piano concertos proved correct in Prom 23 with his performance of the fifth ‘Egyptian’ concerto, often neglected for the more popular second. Coupled with Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony and Liszt’s Dante Symphony, the first Prom was an exceptional concert.

 Other highlights in the season have included Mark Elder and the Halle Orchestra performing Sibelius, Bartók and Janáček; Oliver Knussen and the BBC Symphony Orchestra (the Berg with soloist Claire Booth a particular stand-out performance); the Human Planet Prom; and the Horrible Histories Prom (narrated by historical characters in the Horrible Histories series). The season’s best Prom, however, was surely the 29th: Gustavo Dudamel and the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela performing Mahler’s Second Symphony. The Prom once again showcased the international brilliance of this astounding youth orchestra, proving that classical music is still young, current and political. It was a joy to watch.

 The slight disappointments and the quite frankly bizarre were Proms 4 & 32, and Proms 24 & 25, respectively. Prom 4 offered us Havergal Brian’s ‘Gothic’ Symphony. Over 1000 performers played on an extended stage in this rendition of Brian’s First Symphony. The brass band were suitably bombastic, the singers phenomenal, but there may be a reason other than sheer numbers why this symphony – the largest ever composed – is so rarely performed, and it certainly did not inspire me to explore Brian’s other 31 symphonic offerings. Prom 32, Brahms Violin Concerto and Mahler’s Das klagende Lied appeared promising, but in the event was sadly lacklustre. Christian Tetzlaff perspired his way to triumph in the Brahms but the performance was somewhat unconvincing, lacking the effortless flow that the cantata requires. His encore, conversely, was inspired. Simple and confident, it appeared he had suddenly shed his nerves. Tenor Stuart Skelton and the BBC Singers stole the show in the Mahler, salvaging a fairly uninspired performance by the BBC Symphony Orchestra under Edward Gardner.

 Proms 24 & 25 were dedicated to the memory of Percy Grainger, described as ‘one of music’s great originals’. A brilliant pianist, sexual deviant, musical inventor, decided racist, and perennial eccentric, Grainger was one of classical music’s most fascinating characters. The museum dedicated to him in Melbourne contains collections of his erotic photographs (including his love of flagellism) and sexual implements alongside his ethnographic material and musical collections. The Proms were worth a listen, but it was a shame they didn’t programme his Suite on Danish Folksongs which Grainger performed himself at the Proms in 1948. 

Proms to watch:

        Prom 48, August 19th: Brahms and Schumann, mainly for the Schoenberg transcription of the Brahms. All to be performed by the sensational pianist Angela Hewitt.

Prom 51, August 22nd: An unusual programme; the new Volans Piano Concerto is set alongside Wagner, Liszt and Brahms under Jiri Belohlavek and the BBC Symphony Orchestra.

Prom 55, August 25th: Rinaldo by the Glyndebourne Festival Opera. Almost as old as the Proms itself, Glyndebourne was founded in 1934 amidst the turmoil of Hitler’s rise to power. Originally performing Mozart operas under Fritz Busch and Carl Ebert (who had fled Germany under Nazi rule), the opera company has since largely expanded, here presenting Handel’s Rinaldo with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.

Prom 56, August 26th: Semyon Bychkov and the BBC Symphony Orchestra perform Strauss’ Burleske and Mahler’s Sixth Symphony. Bychkov conducted the Verdi Requiem superbly at the beginning of this Proms season. 

Prom 58, August 28th: Mendelssohn’s Elijah. This expansive oratorio is performed by Paul McCreesh and no fewer than five choirs.

Prom 60, August 30th: Mozart Piano Concerto No. 25 and Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony. The soloist for the Mozart is David Fray, an upcoming French pianist who performs with refreshing clarity and if nothing else is extremely compelling to watch.

Prom 61, August 31st: world premiere of Graham Fitkin’s Cello Concerto, and Beethoven Symphony No. 9. With Yo-Yo Ma as soloist for the Fitkin, this should no doubt be an excellent concert.

Prom 64, September 2nd: Create your own Prom with the Budapest Festival Orchestra. This is probably a better Prom to attend than to tune in to on Radio 3, but the element of audience participation should be entertaining.

Prom 67, September 4th: Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis, conducted by Colin Davis. 

Prom 74: The Last Night of the Proms. This year Lang Lang is the headline act for the Last Night, performing Liszt’s First Piano Concerto as companion to Grosvenor’s performance of the Second Concerto on the First Night. Lang Lang’s rise to fame has been meteoric, and he has since become one of the best known names in classical music. Whether or not you like his interpretations are to your taste, he makes people want to watch him, and his performance here should sit well alongside the fireworks and festivities of the final night. The finale will include the obligatory ‘Land of Hope and Glory’, ‘Jerusalem’, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, ‘Rule Britannia’. and the National Anthem. At least there’ll be Maxwell-Davies at the start to balance the night.

Ritual Union comes off of a year of serial success for Gothenburg synthpop quartet Little Dragon: first came the collaboration with Damon Albarn on last year’s Gorillaz LP Plastic Beach, then contributions to TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek’s solo Maximum Balloon release, and most recently a feature on SBTRKT’s eponymous breakthrough debut. It is fitting then, that this curious moment of ubiquity should be topped off with Little Dragon’s third LP, released this July. Backed by warm production and irresistible electronics, and topped by the soulful register of lead singer Yukimi Nagano, Little Dragon is certainly an outfit to be reckoned with. Their first two albums matched pitch-perfect instrumentation to irresistible R&B-influenced songwriting, and Ritual Union is equally masterful in this regard. ‘Brush The Heat’ is the perfect example of this combination, moodily pairing Nagano’s huskier tones with a tight snare, high-hat, and thumping synth groove.

If, then, there is a shift at all between Ritual Union and 2009’s Machine Dreams, it is in the atmosphere. The latter, true to its name, was jerky and often mechanistic; Ritual Union, instead is smooth and soulful, and all the more seductive as a result. Where Machine Dreams was flirty, Ritual Union is unabashedly sexual. The former hinted, the latter is explicit. There is no better voice for such an ambience than Nagano’s – perfectly mixed into the instrumentation – and her lyricism is equally suggestive. The album artwork would suggest that title track ‘Ritual Union’ refers to marriage, but the lyrics, with their allusions to sin and transgression, certainly hint at something else altogether. These double entendres are frequent in Ritual Union, complementing the production in building up the smouldering mood. Standout track ‘Precious’, a heady concoction of swirling synths, driving rhythm, and Nagano’s beckons – “precious, I can’t hold back” – is certainly a case-in-point. Ritual Union, then, is a welcome direction for Little Dragon, and one that will excite new and old devotees alike.