Accidental Blogger

Cross posted from Fluff-n-Stuff

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Last weekend, I took S on a much anticipated birthday treat- a concert featuring Joshua Bell,
violinist extraordinaire, playing the Red Violin concerto,
Oscar-winning score by composer John Corigliano, an astonishingly
young-looking 70 year old. All that I knew of Joshua Bell, was
primarily that he was young, kind of a rock star in the classical music
world and had engaged last year in a curious experiment to see how many
would stop and pay attention to world-class music from a world-class
musician at the corner of a subway station ( Login required, so I’m quoting from the article below):

Three minutes went by before something
happened. Sixty-three people had already passed when, finally, there
was a breakthrough of sorts. A middle-age man altered his gait for a
split second, turning his head to notice that there seemed to be some
guy playing music. Yes, the man kept walking, but it was something.

A
half-minute later, Bell got his first donation. A woman threw in a buck
and scooted off. It was not until six minutes into the performance that
someone actually stood against a wall, and listened.

Things
never got much better. In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua
Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around
and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave
money, most of them on the run — for a total of $32 and change. That
leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet
away, few even turning to look.

Pearls before the swine, indeed.

Or wait!

By
the end of Sunday’s concert, I did feel like a pig rooting for a
truffle who only got regular farmyard swill . Or maybe I’m just turning
into an old fuddy-duddy who wants the comforting pablum of harmonies
instead of wild dissonances and fancy new techniques.

Sunday’s
concert started off with a piece by Samuel Barber, short and sweet at
11 minutes, the audience clapping heartily at its conclusion. Next, we
were all agog with the expected appearance of the soloist, but it was
the composer who walked on stage. He went on and on, describing
practically measure by measure, the source of his inspiration, peppered
with terms such as ‘virtuosic etudes’, ‘ plaintive theme’, ‘flautando’
( a newly coined term for a technique to make the violin sound like a
flute- beats me- as a composer, why not just use a flute where a flute
like sound is desired?). Everyone clapped when he was done (seemed to
me, in relief,) and announced the entry of the ‘Superstar’. Big round
of clapping, then the orchestra started up, along with Mr.Bell’s first
plaintive notes of the main theme of the concerto.

The next half
hour or more had virtuosic moves galore, Mr.Bell bowing in a frenzy and
all but taking his priceless ( $4 million dollar Stradivari violin) and
smashing it to the ground in a rock star gesture. He managed to rip
some of the horsehair on his bow and get it twined on the violin, and
had me wondering for a moment if he had broken a string. Plenty of
drama onstage, but musically, the piece did nothing for me. I glanced
out the corner of my eye. S was observing the antics on stage with
interest, the gentleman beyond bent his head down, nodding slightly,
but didn’t snore, mercifully. I took a quick look at the other side of
the aisle. All white haired heads were rapt in their attention to the
stage.

Finally, the music onstage came to an end in a grand
crescendo of a ‘race’ between the orchestra and the violinist.
Approximately 2/3rds of the audience stood up in a standing ovation as
the violinist bowed and strode offstage. Someone kept yelling "Bravo"
as loudly as he could, about 3 rows behind us. I stayed firmly in my
seat, unwilling to give an ovation to music that I didn’t very much
like, no matter how virtuosic and technically superior the performance.

Next were the more familiar notes of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition,
but tired by the anticipation gone flat, to my horror,I started dozing
off towards the end. I was woken up by the final loud section which had
the percussionist in the orchestra competing with the cymbals and gong
to outdo the entire strings and wind section in loudness, as a
triumphal march swept through the "Gates of Kiev". After the last
tremendous, ear shattering burst of tutti,
silence reigned for a split second. Then the applause started, another
standing ovation in the making. I slipped on my coat, urged S out and
raced off to the parking garage.

Thank god for small mercies :

1. I avoided getting a migraine- perhaps due to the short duration of the concert.
2. I
   got out of the parking garage in record time (5 minutes, as opposed to
   the usual half hour). This concert had drawn such a crowd, that I had
   parked in a different garage than usual, with pay-at-entry and exiting
   through a single quick spiral driveway.
3. No thanks
   to the effusive newspaper critic’s review that led me to believe that
   the main piece was a modern composition that ‘deserved a singular place
   in the classical canon’ or some such drivel. Next time, I’ll take the
   said critic’s opinions with a massive helping of salt.

Perhaps
I should consider tickets to the Sarah Chang concert coming up soon- at
least it’s Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, familiar and comforting, guaranteed-
easy- on- the -ears listening…