Why I'm going to the Boston Symphony Orchestra on Saturday night.
parden me while I ramble and reflect...
Yesterday evening I was at a glorious concert with my dear friend Andre Emelianoff and friends at Merkin Hall in NYC. This was the first of three concerts Andre is doing exploring the "Archetypal Cello." The concert was dedicated to the memory of George Perle who was a good friend of Andre's and who passed away last week. The concert included his "Cadenza" for cello, written for Andre.
Almost immediately after this piece there were substantial delays because the stand lights ceased to work and the stage manager tried all sorts of things to get them working. It culminated in sparks shooting out of the music stand lights. Eventually all was sorted out and the beautiful lighting was restored. Andre wondered aloud if George was up to tricks.
Flash back 2 years, my mom just passed away, and that night my parents' old house - which they rented out caught fire - wasn't a big fire, but was spectacular - in the same kind of way that the stand lights were. Thinking back on those moments, I remember when my mom was nearing the end, and when we had pretty much said all we had to say, we would just sing. My step dad and I sat with her at the end, and for a time after just singing the old songs.
Back at Merkin, we heard the premiere of Gunther Schuller's new piece "Three LIttle Expressions (Homage to Brahms), which Gunther wrote for Andre, and features the cello and the bass clarinet. It was a super piece, and played spactacularly. I was talking to Gunther about it afterwards, and he mentioned also that he was heading to Boston for another premiere Thursday night of a new piece for the Boston Symphony titled, "Where the Word Ends". Gunther said this was the best title he'd ever come up with - music for when words can't express it and was excited about the piece. (me too)
Flash to Boston. A member of my horn quartet received a call that her dear 96 year old friend "Billie" seemed to have just a few hours left. My friend headed over, and having no words to say, remembered my singing to my mom, and sang Billie gently into the next place just as we were being awed by the fireworks in New York.
Today just reflecting on all the moments when we have to have music for when the words end.
What's your story?
[I updated this a wee bit reflecting the excellent point Clifton Taylor, the lighting designer made.]
