Yesterday, deep in thought, contemplating all of the work I have to do and realizing it will never get done even though it will, taking a stroll through the hall with my forehead in my hand, I turned the corner and…
An SLSO fan writes:
“We thought it was wonderful. Much fun. I thought you weren't supposed to go out humming it. I did.”
My Friday morning rehearsal-break question was “How goes Turangalila?” Responses varied: stressed-out glares; absolute calm (trumpet player Tom Drake, recumbent on the stairs, who has played the work with Hans Vonk conducting and was part of the production crew for the recently released live recording of Vonk/SLSO’s Turangalila -- which has made a few Top-10 lists for 2007 — said, “I feel I’ve gotten the know it really well”); and some wide-eyed excitement (mixed with a touch of anxiety) from younger players who are having their first time with Messiaen’s monumental work.
I hung around the stage early this morning to observe the unveiling of Cynthia Millar’s ondes martenot. As you may know, the ondes martenot is one of the early electronic instruments, which Olivier Messiaen put to use in the Turangalila Symphony, and it found its way into some 60s psychedelic music, and has been adding magical beauties to recent Radiohead records, including the gorgeous In Rainbows.
Find an empty, sunlit office in Powell Symphony Hall. Close the door behind you. Turn up the speaker so you can listen to Mitsuko Uchida and the SLSO rehearse Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 4. Do your stretches. Ignore all the responsibilities that have been the cause of that aching back. When the rehearsal is over and you hear the musicians applauding and stamping their feet in recognition of the exquisite Uchida, go to lunch.
Suddenly, as I was riding blissfully along in the elevator, two members of senior staff and David Robertson got in with me.
It’s one thing when young people arrive for an education concert at the Hall on a chilly January morning and they see and hear the orchestra make amazing music. It’s another when they see people their own age, in this case members of the Saint Louis Symphony Youth Orchestra, go to center stage and make amazing music, as happened this morning. The young people’s eyes get just a little bit wider. The morning chill is forgotten as they witness what comes from dedication, from hard work, and from having found something you love to do, and love to do well.
The wonderful intimacy of Baroque music was on display at the Friday morning Coffee Concert. As an audience, you get to watch the small ensemble of musicians watch one another, you get to listen as they listen to one another. You feel as a participant in the drama of it all.
With the second weekend of Brandenburg Concertos imminent, I’m reprising some ideas from a summertime post.
Some of my colleagues were remarking on the extraordinary composure of Holly Jenkins, the concertmaster of the Saint Louis Symphony Youth Orchestra, who is performing Vivaldi’s Concerto for Two Violins with YO mate Caroline Hart for the Family Concert this Sunday. Holly is also the co-winner of the YO concerto competition, so she will perform Barber’s Violin Concerto for the next Youth Orchestra concert on February 17.
My favorite comment about last weekend’s concerts, with Emily Ho and Kristin Ahlstrom playing Schnittke Concerto grosso No. 3:
Emily Ho and Kristin Ahlstrom showed varying degrees of weariness, exhilaration, anxiety and happiness following the rehearsal for Schnittke’s Concerto grosso No. 3. We agreed that in an early section of the piece, when the violins sound like angry bees, it was reminiscent of an X-Files episode.
David Halen says his commute from home to the hall is only a few minutes longer. Richard Holmes drove his granddaughter to school before rehearsal this morning and said the traffic was a breeze. Joe Clapper says I-40 from I-170 into the city is virtually empty.
I spied yet another copy of Alex Ross’ The Rest Is Noise in a musician’s hand today. Many conversations around the hall these days begin with, “What chapter are you on?”
In most things, I like to take the Edith Piaf view: Non, je ne regrette rien.
Walking into Powell from the balmy January day was first violinist Dana Edson Myers, who always begins “What are you reading?”
In the hall today, standing on a tall scaffold, a man is repainting some of the gold trim you see when the music makes your eyes rise to the heavens.
On the seventh floor, the Drain Surgeon is here.
Maybe it’s because next week the orchestra is playing Villa-Lobos’ Bachianas brasileiras No. 1, which is scored for eight cellos, this phrase from a poem by Jack Gilbert has been in my mind: “Mortality like a cello inside him.”
