It was at the beautiful Chicago Symphony Center, shown below in someone else's photo:
I wasn't allowed to take photos in the concert hall, but here is a view of the rotunda (at right) and two views from the window up by our nosebleed section seats (as usual, click the photos for a larger view).
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That's the Art Institute across the street—click here for the largest version of the left picture, and maybe you'll be able to make out the White Sox cap on the lion out front.
We heard a program of Debussy, Kurtág, Ravel and Schumann played by Pierre-Laurent Aimard, described by the Chicago Tribune as "the thinking-man's virtuoso," whatever that means (details on the pianist and program can be found here ). He was definitely some kind of virtuoso—these were incredibly difficult pieces. I don't know the correct musical terms but there were a lot of notes all over the keyboard in very quick succession. I was impressed that he managed not only technical perfection but beautiful expression, if that's the right term.
It's been a really, really long time since I've been to hear classical music. Not since we moved here from New York, when I had tix to a spring series at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with my friend John.
It was interesting to be back in that atmosphere. As a kid I went with my parents—they got me a season ticket to the opera from the time I was eight (The Magic Flute was my first opera), and to the symphony starting just a few years later. (Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm getting to that.)
In high school and college I had friends who were accomplished musicians, so I also went to hear their concerts and events. In college I also sometimes managed to take advantage of the immense smorgasbord of musical offerings in Boston... (hey, Ame, remember going to the Handel & Haydn society stuff with what's-his-face? remember that damn red sweater I wore to every single friggin' thing? remember the Laura Ashley dress?) I also used to listen to classical quite a lot as background music around the house or whatever.
Then there were all those fun/silly traditions in college, such as the midnight concert in Adams House, where all these incredible musicians sight-read an old war horse (Dvorak's 9th was the one I went to hear). Every spring in the courtyard of Lowell House, a random assemblage of musicians played the 1812 Overture (probably sight-reading as well), with dramatic sound effects—the bells in the bell tower were rung and balloons filled with hydrogen were torched for the cannon shots. And, hey, kids, remember Noam the brilliant musical prodigy (http://www.math.harvard.edu/~elkies/ !!) playing Handel's messiah on the piano for a sing-along in the LoHo Masters' Residence? (While waiting for people to assemble he would amuse himself by transposing it—on the fly—into any key the audience called out).
I have really mixed feelings about all that. Of course I know now that this is all about cultural capital, oppression, elitism, etc. I know that one sort of person goes just to feel superior to others, and many sorts of person feel out of place, intimidated, excluded etc. at such events.
But I really enjoy it. And on top of that, it just feels like home to me. There are so many layers of happy memories—getting all dressed up to go out with my parents, or seeing/hearing so many beloved friends performing.
I mean, I know that's all just life, and there's nothing I can do about it. I just...I don't want to whine about privilege and all that, but I do just wish I could enjoy those memories without having it be all contaminated with knowing what that means to the rest of the world—the things I experienced that other people couldn't get access to, things that qualify me in some people's eyes for some higher status that I don't believe in, but that "comes with the package" anyway. Things I know that supposedly make me smart, that are like keys that open doors. Even though that has nothing to do with "smart" and it shouldn't be that way.
The only thing I can do about it is keep doing what I'm doing—I see my teaching as a form of dedicated treason to my class.
I have to go pick up Loopy, so I'll have to finish that thought another time.
Check out these music jokes. They're categorized by instrument—how wonderfully geeky is that?
4 comments:
Anther favorite of mine - Halloween in the Busch museum where everyone packed in and lay on the floor while they played slides of scary art on the ceiling and scary organ music.
loopy,
check your email. now. thanks.
I had fun going to the concert with you! I have the same set of feelings you do about this stuff. In fact, part of the reason I stopped playing professionally was that I hated the elitism of it all. But damn it if I don't like classical music. I love it. I grew up playing it. I almost spent my life doing it.
I'm never quite sure what to do about my tastes. I also like wine, going to elite restaurants, going to museums, etc., etc... In short, I'm about as snotty as you can get in terms of my cultural tastes. The problem is, they're my tastes (just like anyone elses' tastes are theirs). So I can't really escape them. The other problem is, I get shit because of them. I mean, I share cultural tastes with folks in power, they relate to me because of it, and I benefit.
So, what to do? I don't know. I'm not really sure I can change what I like that much (how, after enjoying music for 24 years, do you stop?). I guess the trick is to challenge the system that favors one set of tastes over others. But if you figure out just how to do that, well, you'll be the world's most famous sociologist (which is about on par with being a minor-league baseball player).
But maybe that's just a cop-out. Abdicating responsibility, talking about structural transformations, and all the while enjoying the benefits of my position. Ugh. We'll see...
thanks for the comments, bean & shamie. (I'll just ignore Loopy's little "stalking" post)
I missed the Busch museum thing. Did they do that every year? It seems almost inconceivable that one could feel safe enough to lie on the floor in a crowd of strangers, and yet in college, that's how we felt--we didn't think they were strangers. Illusion or some kind of actual community?
As for the elitism thing... I think the key is you really have to stop believing that this stuff makes you special or better. Really, genuinely, to the bottom of your heart let go of that idea, which was a very pleasant and comforting idea, but also damaging and blinding.
Here's my sincere take on it. You (Shamus) don't act like a music snob at all. Not even a little bit. Seriously. So I think you've successfully changed your thinking in that area.
Wine snob--you could maybe work on that a little more. ;)
But the fact that you want to undo these things and have worked on it really gives me a warm affection for you, as well as a sense of kinship. Glad I've been getting to know you a little more in recent months.
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