Friday Matinee
Finding joy in Philadelphia
One of the reasons I decided to stop my incessant traveling over the last decade and settle down (at least for a while) was to see more cultural events. It took me almost a year, but I finally made it to the big city to hear the fantastic Philadelphia Orchestra play. It was worth the four-hour round trip to hear two hours of live music in a beautiful setting.
Marian Anderson Hall is a beautiful building, and made all the more interesting by being under the huge glass dome of the Kimmel Center. Once you’re inside that massive dome, the cold winds and piles of snow outside fade from memory, coats are shed, and the excitement level rises as ticket-holders enjoy the warmth before the bell asking everyone to take their seats.
The program included Tchaikovsky’s Capriccio italien, Opus 45, followed by Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Major, Opus 19, featuring Hilary Hahn, a violinist long on my bucket list to see live. The sounds she can coax out of that violin are truly breathtaking, and this concerto highlighted all of her talents. It was also very cool to see the orchestra change size and shape from the first piece to the second (compare the picture above with the one below).
The intermission was an excellent opportunity for me to explore more of the Kimmel Center, which I definitely did, going down stairs and up escalators to see more of the architecture. I gotta admit, music and architecture in one afternoon is one of my happy places!
Once back in my seat, it was on to the last piece of the concert: Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Opus 54. I wasn’t at all familiar with this piece, but it turned out to be so much fun to watch the musicians play their parts. There were so many instruments, so many little duets and solos from so many players. And when the strings joined in, their bows were like waves across the stage, from basses to cellos to violas to violins, and it took my breath away to watch such coordinated movement flowing back and forth.
To give you a flavor for how wild this Symphony is, here is a listing of the instruments required (from the program notes): “… piccolo, two flutes, two oboes, English horn, three clarinets (III doubling E-flat clarinet), bass clarinet, three bassoons (III doubling contrabassoon), four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion (bass drum, cymbals, snare drum, tam-tam, tambourine, triangle, xylophone), harp, celesta, and strings. Whew! (And if you read all that without your brain starting to put those words to The 12 Days of Christmas, you’re a better person than I am…)
All too soon, the concert was over, and we all filed out of the hall and went our separate ways. Even the Friday afternoon traffic getting out of Philly couldn’t take away the joy I felt from the performance. It was a much-needed reminder that the arts can help ease the unrelating tension of navigating the political and economic turmoil in my country. Yes, there are still protests to attend, letters and calls to make, and rights to fight for, but there also has to be room for joy, for moments of happiness that transcend the current situation. And for me, music in so many forms, does just that.
“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.” (Kurt Vonnegut)
That is one gorgeous musical hall and stage. I bet that was impressive in itself to see. So glad you got to experience two of your favorite things in one day.
Jack and I would always get season’s tickets to the Roanoke Symphony and attended their entire schedule with my mom. This was after my dad died and mom was no longer comfortable driving at night. For years, we’d drive the hour to Rke, often go out to dinner with mom, then sit for two hours in “assigned seats” to hear the symphony. Neither the building (certainly) nor the talents of the musicians (probably) were on par with what Philly has to offer. But we’d chat briefly before and during intermission with the folks we’d come to know sitting around us, and quietly listen to the music—extraordinary, no matter the composer or style because it was played live—and enjoy experiencing it together. Then we’d say goodnight to mom and drive the dark, winding mountain roads back to our rural homestead, and think how lucky we were to be able to do that with each other; and with mom. Very pleasant memories. So glad to read about yours.