Monthly Archives: January 2008

Jan 21 2008

Backstage Access

As I sat backstage after the orchestra concert a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded how much I miss hanging out back there. I used to take it for granted, but I’ve come to appreciate how fortunate I was to have that kind of access.

It’s little things I miss, like watching how musicians prepare for concerts and rehearsals. They all seem so calm – not like the student days, when everyone was hyper and nervous about the upcoming concert. I was the kind of neurotic player who would arrive at least an hour before the concert started, so I marvel at those players who show up mere minutes before showtime.

Conductors and soloists are usually pretty relaxed, too. Pinchas will talk about the Sens game right up to the second he walks on stage, and he’ll ask for the score as soon as gets back. Only once did I encounter a really nervous soloist. Her name escapes me, but just a minute before the concert she confided that she was worried about going on because she didn’t really know the piece that well. I felt bad for her – it must have been scary to cross that threshold, see the bright lights and a full hall, and wonder if you were going to make it to the end of the piece.

I came to love watching concerts from the wings. I’d pull up a bass stool and sit by myself in the corner, far from the whispers and rustling candy wrappers that have spoiled many a performance. With a clear view of the conductor and mere feet away from the last desk of strings, you sometimes get a taste of what being on stage feels like.

I kind of regret going backstage on Thursday night. B and I went to see the English Theatre production of Macbeth, and we went to the Green Room to get a drink at intermission. I was slightly startled to find myself face to face with Banquo, still in costume with his face caked in blood. Just minutes ago he was on stage, haunting Macbeth from beyond the grave, and now he was chatting with our Principal Trumpet, who just happens to be his neighbour. So much for the willing suspension of disbelief…

Incidentally, Macbeth was great. It took my ear a while to get used to the 17th century text, but I slowly caught on. Peter Hinton, the director, set the play in World War 2, drawing parallels between the Macbeths and Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. I thought it really worked well, and the set design and lighting were stunning. It’s been a hit, again proving that nothing sells like stuff written by dead white men.

Jan 15 2008

Midori and Shostakovich

After taking a couple of months off, I went to an orchestra concert on Thursday night. Last week’s program had sparked my interest when it was announced last year, and I thought it definitely merited a night out.

Ludovic Morlot, conductor
Midori, violin

RAVEL     Ma Mere l’Oye
TCHAIKOVSKY     Violin Concerto
intermission
RAVEL Pavane pour une infante défunte
SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 9

The concert began with an announcement – due to an airline losing her luggage, tonight’s soloist would be performing in street clothes.  That was a first for me.  I was hoping Midori would walk out in torn jeans and a t-shirt, but she wore a conservative black shirt dress instead.

Midori’s career started when she was 11, and despite the passage of 25 years since her debut, she still looks remarkably young.  She’s one of those musicians who appears completely consumed by the music – eyes closed, body in constant movement, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’s playing in front of 2,000 people.  With all that shuffling around, she reminded me of a boxer in the ring.  

Imagine for a minute that you are Shostakovich.  It’s 1945, your country has suffered through a terrible war, and Mother Russia looks to you to compose a monumental hymn of victory.  It’s your 9th symphony, so you also have the ghosts of Beethoven, Schubert, Dvorak and Bruckner looking over your shoulder.  So what do you do?  You write a symphony of modest length and considerable humour, a work you would later refer to as “a jolly little piece”.  Stalin and his comrades were not amused – I guess the irony was lost on them.  

The symphony itself went pretty well.  The various solos were really well done, and the circus-like brass sections brought a smile to my face.  It’s too bad that a couple of hundred people didn’t return after the intermission – they missed a memorable performance.

Oh yeah, the concert ended just in time for me to catch the overtime of the Sens – Sabres game.  It was fun to sit backstage with some musicians and watch the final few minutes.  Pinchas even called to get the play-by-play from Pace during the shoot-out.  It was just like old times…

By The Dearlove • Posted in Music • Tagged
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Jan 14 2008

This Job Sounds Familiar

The New York Times had a great piece on the weekend about Jim Phelan, the Director of Administration for the New York Giants. Jim’s job is to look after all the travel arrangements when the Giants are on the road – charter flights, hotels, buses, police escorts, etc. It’s a job that gets substantially more difficult during the playoffs as all the arrangements have to be made at the last second.

It sounds a lot like being a tour manager, except I never had to arrange for a police escort. I guess it’s also different having a 300 pound lineman complain to you about his hotel room instead of a 160 pound violinist.

If you’re interested, the article can be found here.

Jan 9 2008

The Great Escape

The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
_____________________________________

Sunday began like any other Sunday. The Father and Mother took their two young children to the museum in the morning and returned home for a healthy and nutritious lunch. With a yawn, the youngest boy, who is two years old, headed upstairs for his regular afternoon nap. The Father, noticing the Mother was also tired, suggested that she put her head down as well.

The Father headed out with the older boy to do some shopping. He returned an hour later and proceeded to put some groceries away. The house was still quiet, and the Father assumed everyone was still sleeping.

The Father returned to the car to bring in the last of the bags when he heard a voice from behind him. He turned to see a couple of strangers approaching the house. The man was holding a familiar looking toboggan, and the woman was carrying the Father’s youngest son in her arms.

The Father wondered who these people were, and why they had his son. The couple explained that they had found the boy a couple of blocks away. He was wandering around on his own, and then calmly led the strangers back to his home after they found him. The Father thanked the strangers profusely and brought the boy inside.

It turns out the child had woken up from his nap and decided to set off in search of his swimming lesson. He went down two flights of stairs, put on his boots and winter coat, and unlocked the front door. He walked out onto the front porch and saw a world of possibilities. He grabbed his purple sled and dragged it down the street, confident in the knowledge that eventually he would find the pool.

The Father and Mother were grateful for his safe return, but they were also left quite shaken by the event. They tried not to think of all the awful things that could have happened to a two-year old who had ventured out on his own. The Father was quietly proud that the young boy had shown the intelligence and confidence to embark on such an adventure and return home, but he also worried that his budding sense of daring would lead to many more anxious moments for the Father and Mother in the years to come.

Jan 8 2008

A Memorable Evening

One of the highlights of our Christmas vacation was stopping at B’s aunt and uncle’s place on the way home. Gerry and Claudette live in an old farm house on 50 acres just outside Lansdowne, which is about 90 minutes down the highway from Ottawa. It has become a frequent rest stop on our trips to Southern Ontario, and we always get a warm welcome.

Aidan and Kieran are a couple of city boys, so hanging out at Gerry and Claudette’s is a treat. In the summer they can go for rides on the little tractor, explore the fields, or lie in the hammock under a big oak tree. In the winter, it’s a great place for sledding or building forts and snowmen. Claudette also entertains them by bringing out animal skulls and other curiosities that have popped up on their property.

On our most recent visit, we put the kids to bed after a long drive and then six of us gathered around the kitchen table to play a board game. Usually I’m not a big fan of board games – it probably has something to do with my aversion to learning curves and an irrational competitive streak. We played a strategy game called Settlers of Catan, and I was pleasantly surprised at how fun it was. I had never heard of it, but apparently it’s a really popular game that has garnered a bunch of awards over the past decade. It was a little complicated at first, but after over three hours of playing, I was really getting in to it.

As I trudged up the stairs in the wee hours, I was filled with a sense of peace and contentment. I was in an old country home, heated by a wood-burning stove, playing a board game around the kitchen table with great people and beer kept cold on the back porch. In today’s fast-paced world, it was invigorating to get back to the basics, even if it was just for one night.