All the culture I'm about to drop on you with this entry has just been made null by the horrible pun in my title.
Last night I attended a sold-out performance of Mahler's Second Symphony ("Resurrection") at the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Now, I'm generally pretty stupid about music. Out of everyone in my family, I'm the only one who doesn't play an instrument. I look at my cousin, my aunts and uncles, even my dad, all of whom are so talented and I wonder, "Am I adopted?" The gene skipped right over me, for real. There's just this defect in my brain wiring or something. I can't read music. I don't understand the way measures and notes, tones and sounds, scales and keys come together. My aunt argues with me, telling me that I just haven't been taught properly, likening it to a light switch that hasn't been flipped yet. "One day, it will all come together for you, it will click and you'll understand it all." I don't think so. I've been in the dark long enough to know that the circuit is broken. That's okay. I don't need to understand to enjoy.
Whenever I'm invited to the orchestra, I try to study up on the piece a little bit —— if nothing else to help me understand context since I don't get the technicality. This was such a last minute invite that I really didn't have a chance. Going into it, all I knew was what the Doc told me when he invited me, "You won't want to miss this one. It's a doozy."
He wasn't wrong.
You don't need to be technically proficient or musically apt to know that there are moments of pure unadulterated genius in this. Being such a musical tard, I don't know precisely how to word it, but like, how did he think up this stuff? I mean, the IV and V movements? He busts it all out. Chorus, organ, a collection of musicians offstage. It's overwhelming. It was said that at its premiere performance in Berlin it caused grown men to openly weep. And while I didn't see anyone in the audience crying, you could feel the collective tension and release of your fellow audience members as the piece progressed. There were points where I was holding my breath, and when I realized I was holding my breath I didn't want to exhale because in some silly part of my brain I was worried the sound of my breath escaping from my lungs would be disruptive to the piece. I am not kidding about this.
The piece is a dramatic, joyful, recognition of everlasting life. There are obvious religious overtones and messages ("I am from God, and I will return to God"), but interesting enough, during the entire performance I was thinking more of phoenixes and starting over than being welcomed into heaven. Regardless of what you believe or what you think of when you hear it being performed, the music is beautiful.
One of my favorite parts of going to the orchestra is watching the musicians perform. Heck it's the reason you go see any live performance, instead of just sitting at home with your CDs. But watching the orchestra perform is especially fascinating to me. Watching them elicit these sounds from their instruments just captivates me. The way they tilt their heads, hold their hands, curve their fingers, arch their backs, lean in time. It was clear last night from watching them that they were excited to perform this. The score is filled with all kinds of wowee musical stuff that my ignorance won't let me describe properly. Boisterous crescendos, arresting codas, atypical use of instruments. This is their recess.
Upon completion the audience was on its feet applauding. No less than four standing ovations later, I turned to the Doc and jokingly said, "Eh, it was OK. Aren't we missing ER right now?" He laughed at me and mouthed, "Not bad for six bucks," referring to our student understudy tickets that allowed us entrance into the concert hall and to sit in the seats of season ticket holders who didn't attend.
The performance runs until Sunday. Amazingly enough, there are still tickets available for Sunday's performance. This will not last. Even though we were (barely) able to make use of the understudy tickets, I've never seen Verizon Hall so packed. If you have the time, I would recommend snapping yourself up a pair. It's worth it, trust me.
Last night I attended a sold-out performance of Mahler's Second Symphony ("Resurrection") at the Philadelphia Orchestra.
Now, I'm generally pretty stupid about music. Out of everyone in my family, I'm the only one who doesn't play an instrument. I look at my cousin, my aunts and uncles, even my dad, all of whom are so talented and I wonder, "Am I adopted?" The gene skipped right over me, for real. There's just this defect in my brain wiring or something. I can't read music. I don't understand the way measures and notes, tones and sounds, scales and keys come together. My aunt argues with me, telling me that I just haven't been taught properly, likening it to a light switch that hasn't been flipped yet. "One day, it will all come together for you, it will click and you'll understand it all." I don't think so. I've been in the dark long enough to know that the circuit is broken. That's okay. I don't need to understand to enjoy.
Whenever I'm invited to the orchestra, I try to study up on the piece a little bit —— if nothing else to help me understand context since I don't get the technicality. This was such a last minute invite that I really didn't have a chance. Going into it, all I knew was what the Doc told me when he invited me, "You won't want to miss this one. It's a doozy."
He wasn't wrong.
You don't need to be technically proficient or musically apt to know that there are moments of pure unadulterated genius in this. Being such a musical tard, I don't know precisely how to word it, but like, how did he think up this stuff? I mean, the IV and V movements? He busts it all out. Chorus, organ, a collection of musicians offstage. It's overwhelming. It was said that at its premiere performance in Berlin it caused grown men to openly weep. And while I didn't see anyone in the audience crying, you could feel the collective tension and release of your fellow audience members as the piece progressed. There were points where I was holding my breath, and when I realized I was holding my breath I didn't want to exhale because in some silly part of my brain I was worried the sound of my breath escaping from my lungs would be disruptive to the piece. I am not kidding about this.
The piece is a dramatic, joyful, recognition of everlasting life. There are obvious religious overtones and messages ("I am from God, and I will return to God"), but interesting enough, during the entire performance I was thinking more of phoenixes and starting over than being welcomed into heaven. Regardless of what you believe or what you think of when you hear it being performed, the music is beautiful.
One of my favorite parts of going to the orchestra is watching the musicians perform. Heck it's the reason you go see any live performance, instead of just sitting at home with your CDs. But watching the orchestra perform is especially fascinating to me. Watching them elicit these sounds from their instruments just captivates me. The way they tilt their heads, hold their hands, curve their fingers, arch their backs, lean in time. It was clear last night from watching them that they were excited to perform this. The score is filled with all kinds of wowee musical stuff that my ignorance won't let me describe properly. Boisterous crescendos, arresting codas, atypical use of instruments. This is their recess.
Upon completion the audience was on its feet applauding. No less than four standing ovations later, I turned to the Doc and jokingly said, "Eh, it was OK. Aren't we missing ER right now?" He laughed at me and mouthed, "Not bad for six bucks," referring to our student understudy tickets that allowed us entrance into the concert hall and to sit in the seats of season ticket holders who didn't attend.
The performance runs until Sunday. Amazingly enough, there are still tickets available for Sunday's performance. This will not last. Even though we were (barely) able to make use of the understudy tickets, I've never seen Verizon Hall so packed. If you have the time, I would recommend snapping yourself up a pair. It's worth it, trust me.
Labels: Miscellania
1 Comments:
i LOVE orchestra with doc. I loved going those years at Cabrini. I learned so much about music and the way an orchestra plays together.
So incredibly jealous.
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