Can’t wait to get up north soon
I saw this performed a couple weekends ago and holy shit I’ve never been so swept up by a piece in such a gushy romantic kind of way. Even though it’s a Strauss Waltz (classic and fun but old hat), Schoenberg arranged it in a completely daring and exciting way which keeps the listener on the edge of their seat. Also seeing the musicians bat their eyelashes makes it so human and wonderful.
I can’t believe that there will be LEAVES on trees soon
this library has LOGS in it
Last night I saw the best viola (maybe string) playing I’ve ever seen in my life (my King, Lawrence POwer). On Friday I saw Leon Fleisher speak about music in such a human way (relatable and slightly existential).
On top of that, we are playing Mahler 5 in orchestra and people are kind of caring and even though my stand partner is such a fuckin’ dud, it’s my goal to engage her and have a time (à la Ru).
On top of THAT I had a recital last wednesday and although there were only 10-13 people present, I know that every single set of ears were open to me. My grandma was there and she is slightly loosing it but when I saw her face after the program she had these beautiful, flushed red cheeks and a twinkle in her eyes. I’ve never seen anyone be truly affected by my music in that way and it is a moment I will never forget. My stand partner from the youth orchestra I mentor was also there and he is this wonderfully passionate and endearing senior in high school. After I played Hindemith I looked into the audience and saw his reaction and that was pretty fuckin’ awesome.
This may all sound like I’m being a bit self-centered but hey who cares, music is a little bit narcissistic by nature. We gotta believe in what we are saying and display ourselves in order to make people feel feelings. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering why music is my calling but then it calls again and again. What a week.
Tom Stoppard, University of Pennsylvania, 1996 (via flameintobeing)
Years and years ago, there was a production of The Tempest, out of doors, at an Oxford college on a lawn, which was the stage, and the lawn went back towards the lake in the grounds of the college, and the play began in natural light. But as it developed, and as it became time for Ariel to say his farewell to the world of The Tempest, the evening had started to close in and there was some artificial lighting coming on. And as Ariel uttered his last speech, he turned and he ran across the grass, and he got to the edge of the lake and he just kept running across the top of the water — the producer having thoughtfully provided a kind of walkway an inch beneath the water. And you could see and you could hear the plish, plash as he ran away from you across the top of the lake, until the gloom enveloped him and he disappeared from your view.
And as he did so, from the further shore, a firework rocket was ignited, and it went whoosh into the air, and high up there it burst into lots of sparks, and all the sparks went out, and he had gone.
When you look up the stage directions, it says, ‘Exit Ariel.’