January 11, 2019

Notes on the Symphony

High tops and cowboy boots. Gosh it's been so long. I want the cosseting again. This was triggered by seeing knee-high boots on the second violinist in the CSO. I'd just arrived at the dress rehearsal.

Twenty minutes before I'd wound through the maze of a nameless parking garage - a forgettable floor inside a forgettable building on a forgettable street that I would surely never find again after the left-brain retreat - so I free'd myself from the labyrinth's clutches and found street parking on corner of Main and 3rd.  Ahhh relief....only about a half-mile walk to Ohio Theatre. Parking may be a pain but concerts are massage therapy for the brain.

I didn't look at the program but the music was instantly recognizable upon entry if not my favorite. Suddenly an unexpected treat: dancers from BalletMet.  I think immediately of Bill Luse's daughter. They form perfect 90 degree straight lines with their legs, rewarding the viewer with the feeling that entropy has vanished and order restored. Seeing the ballerina reminds me of a sometimes overlooked female superiority: the splits. Call it splits envy.

As always, the conductor reminds me of Jeff Bezos in his looks and mien if not wealth.

The music is soaring and powerful, akin to feeling the Caribbean sun on your face in mid-winter.

The pianist comes out with head down, moppish hair with more than a hint of gray through which he occasionally runs his hands. Looks the absent-minded professor type. He totes a leather bag that appears to have no clear purpose and plays without anything in front of him. Dark suit jacket and dark pants, he creates magic using his hands and the ivories.  He's 58, born in Armenia now an American living (where else?) in NYC. I like these itinerant musicians with their glamorous lives of music and travel and ... leather tote bags and good parking spaces.

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