So... where to begin? I guess we should start a few hours before the concert. Today the weather was glorious: 65F, light, fluffy clouds, warm sun... the perfect tonic after a winter that weighed down upon people like cold lead. We did some preliminary yard work, I took Bella for a nice long hike at her favorite preserve, and grilled dinner outside... with no parka, insulated gloves, gore-tex boots and thermal underwear! Blissful. I was very satisfied and content, as I headed upstairs to engage in my well-practiced pre-concert ritual.
I'm not a superstitious person, but I have learned to stick to a very rigid routine when prepping for concerts. I stick to a specific order of duties/events, and I try to NEVER waver from it. Why? several reasons:
1. It's efficient. A complex sequence of small but necessary duties is handled with a minimum of exertion or concentration. Items are where they are supposed to be. I can go about my cleansing/grooming/dressing routine virtually on auto-pilot, which allows me to begin focusing on the job I am about to do.
2. It's relaxing and reassuring. In a job when anything can happen at a moment's notice, the predictable nature of my routine gives me a sense of calm and control. Important, when the next big thing I do involves me only being in control of one thing- the way I play my cello.
3. It cuts down on unnecessary drama. Life throws enough of the Big D our way without warning or invitation (as you'll see later), so the last thing I need is to amp myself up scrambling around the bedroom for a lost set of studs/cufflinks, or trying to find a mislaid set of car keys. Order be a good thang on concert night, yo.
This evening, I decided to wear a super-fine tuxedo shirt that's fairly new to me. It was custom-made for someone who backed out after it was completed. The tailor at the shop thought it would fit me, and it did... as though he took MY measurements for it. Now look, guys- 'Zilla's not a huge clothes horse, but he knows a good bargain when it crosses his path, and he does like to look his best when in public... so you simply can't just walk away from a 200+ dollar tux shirt that will only cost you $50, do you? I thought not. Only one problem: the stud holes in this shirt are hand-stitched, and considerably smaller than the holes in the shirts I usually wear. After fumbling around with my favorite set of studs like a 3 year old who's just learn to dress himself last week, I decide to slap in another set of studs rather than grab another shirt. Routine: interrupted. The next set of studs get fumbled, and skitter across the floor, coming to rest beneath the bed. Now, I'm rattled. I fish them out from beneath the bed, and now my fingers have minds of their own. Feeding them through the shirt holes is akin to microsurgery while wearing welder's gloves. Bottom line- it took me 10 minutes longer to dress myself tonight... putting me behind schedule, and affecting my mood in a very unhealthy way.
Dogs may not be the smartest mammals on the planet, but they are intuitive and sensitive as hell... especially to their human care-givers. Tonight, Miss Bella decides that it's her sworn duty to velcro herself to Dad, and NOT LET HIM LEAVE until he reassures her that his entire life isn't falling apart. It was really kind of sweet- in an annoying, (s)motherly kind of way. More delay. I give her some strokes, speak to her in calm, soothing tones, and finally get her to move from the door. (It actually worked to help calm me a bit, so maybe My Girl is smarter than I've credited her...)
CONCERT NIGHT
'Twas a high-tension week. Demanding music. Uptight MD. Rehearsals packed-with-info/micromanagement/detailed corrections. All at the end of a long, seemingly endless slog of schlock concerts to far-away places in nasty late-winter weather. This would have been a great time to have that one extra rehearsal, know what I mean? The evening's menu: Dr Atomic Symphony, by John Adams. Folks have been struggling with this piece privately for the better part of a month, just learning the licks, patterns and non-patterns. The piece coalesced much more slowly than comfort would have liked, and at the end of dress rehearsal, we only felt generally secure about the performance(s). Sibelius 7... every bit as demanding as the Adams, but with an entirely different aesthetic. And to round out the evening, Dvorak Cello concerto, b minor. Alban Gerhardt, soloist.
The Adams went well... though not without a glitch or two. The brass soloists stepped up and shone like diamonds. We really do have some top-notch players in Our Little Band... and they rose to the occasion tonight. I expect a much tighter and forceful performance tomorrow night, now that we've allowed the piece to settle in a bit.
Sibelius... (remember my earlier reference to 'drama?') Cello section/Desk2 is a tight machine of simpatico, honed from 5 years of trench warfare together. We are good colleagues, good travel companions to run-out concerts, and even better friends. We have our own coded 'language' and private jokes.... and we're not a bit shy at one-upping each other where the humor is concerned. All this bonding has made us a solid stand in our section. We carry our weight and help to anchor those near us, who might not share such a tight bond with their standmates. In short- we think and act as one on the job.
(At this point, it's important to take a directorial 'flashback' to the first Sibelius rehearsal. Our MD's custom is to 'play down' a piece on the first reh, to get a feel for what work needs to be done. Movements will be played non-stop, with general comments at the ends. Sibelius 7 is played continuously, from start to finish. Big Tech (my nickname for him) and Clemzilla (his nickname for me) finish reading page 6, scan to the right side of the score... and see page 9 staring us in the face! (Oh, those f'horrible handwritten Sibelius scores....) 'Zilla dives to his folder on the floor, pulls out his photocopied 'practice part' (times are tough- a regional orch must economize where it can), and tosses pgs. 7&8 onto the stand. Crisis averted... this is how we survived the week.)
Sibelius is running smoothly- cello section is well-prepared for this work. TeK & Zil successfully navigathe the chromatic "rising/falling waves on the sea" section, and the shared tension and intensity begins to subside at the botto of page 6. Our eyes scan to the right- and see page 9 staring us in the face! O...M....G... ! Nooooooooo! 'Zilla does the only thing he can- he waits for the 2 measure rest, and calmly shortens the music stand to its lowest height. The next 2 -3 minutes of playing were a combination of relying on semi-memorization, anticipation/approximation of pitches seen from roughly 8 feet away, and a whoooolotta silent (and feverish) praying. It must have looked a bit funny to the audience- two usually poised cellists rubbernecking with an exaggaerated upright posture, swaying like a couple of meerkats in the Kalahari desert. I hope we pulled it off without attracting too mutch attention to ourselve... we DID try to do it with all the 'cool' we could muster. Good thing Sibelius was followed by intermission... I needed the full interval to slow my heart compose myself, and mop gallons of flopsweat.
Second half: A Tale of Two Concerts. It was the worst of gigs, it was the best of gigs. From the moment he took the stage, Alban Gerhardt OWNED the venue. Our two rehearsals prepared us for the general architecture he'd planned, but kids... one must understand that true artistry is also subject to expression in the moment. Mt Gerhardt sucked us in with his very first utterance, and used that attention to guide us through a carefully-planned but amended script. Timing was microscopically different than in rehearsals; phrases were extended slightly or compressed slightly for added urgency.... this fine cellist told a spontaneous and heartfelt story to houseful of rapt story-lovers. The level of technical mastery he demonstrated made his playing seem effortless. Fortissimi were projected two blocks beyond the confines of the hall. Pianissimi drew the listener onto the stage with us, so that they might hear his intimate whispers. The Band turned itself into a single accompanist, that they might be better able to 'turn on a dime,' and give this man the level of support his exquisite music-making inspired. It was as knockout a performance of "The D" as I can remember witnessing in my life. I heard it afresh tonight... and I heard it without the excess and hystrionics we've all come to expect when Antonin's masterpiece is trotted out. A very special night indeed. Mr. Gerhardt's efforts weren't lost upon the masses, either. He was rewarded with a spontaneous standing ovation- the kind that looks as though every seat in the house was wired to 120 volts, and the switch just got thrown. 3 curtain call later, and we were all treated to a scintillating encore: The Prelude to Bach's 6th suite for solo cello.
At the end of the evening, I looked at TeK and said: "Folks came to a concert... tonight they got a clinic on how a cello is worked." TeK just looked at me and said: "word."
I'm exhausted. I think I'll go to sleep now.
(originally posted at ICS website 03/19/11 00:05:13)
