the back burner

Houston, Leipzig, and Riga

It was Saturday night and the family was facing news of my maybe-sometime-soon departure for the wild blue yonger. What were we to do? We hit the nearest Kona Grill and then went down to hear the Houston Symphony Orchestra. I haven't checked, but I assume you can get more details on the dinner from the sister. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

In other news, however, I have a new favorite music hall: the Jones Hall, Wortham Center, Downtown Houston, TX. For the first piece, it was like we were in a terra cotta pot, at the very bottom, in a little music bubble beneath the soil. For the second, it felt like we were sitting in the inside of a wooden music box. And for the third, the whole place transformed into an old forest, the kind where the trees have grown so high you can't see their branches. Even at noon the sunlight from above barely reaches us on the forest floor.

Amazing. It was a big, wooden-lined hall the color of cedar, with unobtrustive geodesic floaters hung form the ceiling. The seats were red velvet and the stage was a deep, golden wood tone. Maybe birch?

Leipzig-born Claus Peter Flor conducted the Houston Symphony, and he did a magnificent job. First we heard Wagner's Siegfried Idyll.

[....whoops. I guess this was published instead of drafted...]

I think it was the first time I've ever really connected with Wagner. Am I allowed to feel that way? The man's music drives me NUTS. But this piece was actually fairly accessible. The really interesting part of the performance, however, was Claus Peter Flor. He conducted without a baton. Sometimes he would wave his arms with totally limp wrists, letting his hands flap about like big paintbrushes, while other times the entire arm went rigid and the actual conducting was done by two fingers, just barely twitching. He was also conducting on different levels. I, who was sitting as far away as possible and have no knowledge of musical conduction, could tell the difference between the different parts of his conducting airspace. When he leaned towards the ground and conducted just right of center, I knew he was directing the violas and lower strings. When the melodic parts spoke up, he would conduct high and center. The background themes were medium left. It was wonderful! Is this why I was getting Wagner? I could definitely identify which themes were doing the talking, and when, by watching Flor.

The next piece was Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor, Opus 64. 24 year old Latvian Baiba Skride debuted with the Houston Symphony as the solo violinist. She's apparently becoming quite the international superstar. I had to admit, I had my doubts. She has this really young-looking face and every photo I had seen made her seem eight years old. To top it off, she walked onstage in a floor-length pink dress. It was gorgeous, but pink nonetheless. (Just for you fashion police out there, I think I caught a glimpse of white shoes, but Melissa claims she was barefoot. barefeeted. shoeless.) Thankfully, I lost my skepticism right away. I still don't know how hard it was to play the solo part in this piece, becase she made it seem so easy! AMAZING, SHE WAS. Flor was using his baton, and the whole symphony really seemed supportive -- you know? They were really intense about their playing and about supporting this young whipper-snapper from Latvia. I was actually thinking the whole time about Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies -- the way Mendelssohn treated the violin reminded me of the way Liszt did. I think it has something to do with the fact that from the get-go, the solo line has a prominent spot, unashamed, brilliant-sounding even in a minor key. Skride got a standing ovation with three call-backs.

And then the loooong intermission before Dvorak's 8th Symphony (G major, Opus 88). It was long because I knew this last piece by heart, and I could hear different musicians playing snatches of it as they warmed up. I think my excitement was coming mostly from knowing the way Dvorak uses his horns and his cellos. My excitement was justified. I was on the edge of my seat from the opening chords. It could be my imagination, but I think the entire orchestra were on the edge of theirs, too. It was brilliantly played -- better, I think, than my London Philharmonic recording. It's the kind of piece that really, REALLY uses every instrument, not just as fillers, but as serious musical contributors. Every last musician on the stage had a noticeably talented moment: flutes and other woodwinds, bass, tympani, even the often-overlooked violas! And it really emphasized the skill of the conductor, more than either of the preceding pieces.

I can't really describe what happened during that piece. Go find it and give it a listen. After a moment of incredulous silence after the last "BUM, BUM-BA-BUM! Bum! BUUUUUM!" we all whooshed to our feet and started screaming. I always thought it wasn't polite to actually YELL at the symphony, but there was a lot of yelling. Was it because the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo just ended in our fair town? Maybe. Flor was called back by the crowd three times, which was actually a longer applause then Skride got, because Flor took a lot of time during his first call-back to point out every soloist (there were about 18). Oh man.

You know, when I go to the symphony, I always feel like my friend Krista. She's this highly-observant analogy and illustration Queen that always amazes people with spiritual and emotional parallels to physical phenomena. It just pours out of her. but it never really happens to me unless I think about something for quite awhile. Except at the symphony. I walked out feeling as if I had reached a new level of knowledge of self and God and creation. Whew.

For example: I was re-connecting with the problems I've always had with Andante movements. Give me something slow and emotional or quick and lively! As wonderful as the Mendelssohn andante movement was, I couldn't really focus. It reminds me of support-raising and my spiritual walk...

For example: During the first tuning, the principal second violinist (does that make sense?) broke a string (I could hear it in the back of the balcony). Immediately, the last chair violinist rushed forward and gave her his violin. She struggled to restring it for about two minutes and then accepted his violin. The funny thing was that the last chair really didn't seem to mind. He even sat back down in his place to turn the pages for his stand partner, even though he didn't have a violin. The whole group of musicians seemed to treat one another like a family -- they were obviously serious about what they were doing, but they were at the same time, well, comfortable. Like a well-oiled community.

For example: All the conductors I've ever had in my life (Mr. Spaulding, Mr. Lilly, Mr. Harding, the guy who didn't like me at my Texas high school, the crazy Houston Community Band Director who had me playing Mahler string parts on an alto saxophone, even Dr. Steele from Covenant College) only seemed to be telling people what to do and how to do it. There are some very talented people in that list, but it still seemed like they were giving orders. Compared to Claus Peter Flor, they were just pushing the right keys while he was really playing the whole piano. Of course, there's something to be said for the quality of musicians with whom you work -- Flor had a top-notch group. But watching him really made me think of Christ, whom I've mostly ever understood to be barking orders: "play now." "Play quietly." "Get louder slowly." "Stop playing now." With an order-barker, everyone needs to train their attention on him so that they don't do the wrong thing. There's something different about a conductor (manager, teacher, coach) who instead of presenting each musician with his marching orders, presents each one with the big picture. All of the Houston Symphony players kept their attention on Flor because in so doing, they received a sense of identity and stayed united as a group.

I guess it was like watching a cross between an empowerment seminar, a talent show, and a church service.

Could this post be any longer? Sorry these thoughts weren't more well-organized. Tata for now.

Posted by nickles at March 27, 2006 07:10 PM | TrackBack