At the Symphony – Vivaldi’s Four Seasons May 31, 2010
Posted by A in Art, Entertainment, Society.Tags: classical music, Entertainment, music, symphony, theater, vivaldi
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On a Friday night in February, I went to see a performance by my local symphony orchestra. I went right after work, so I had a lot of time to kill before the 8PM performance. I thoroughly enjoyed my “me” time. I went to a hotel across the street from the theater and ate at one of its restaurants. The food was great, the “me” time was nice too. I brought a book with me (I typically do when eating alone or when there’s a long wait) and was reading it while waiting and eating.
After dinner, I walked across the street and got a ticket. I got a great spot, right in the middle and elevated (balcony-type) so I could see everything.
I was very pleased to see that people actually dressed up for the occasion. Most other times I noticed that a vast majority of people weren’t dressed up. So I was glad to see the change. There were quite a few younger people too, though not at first. I thought I might be the only one, but there were plenty.
When the music started, it wasn’t the main attraction of the evening; something obscure, so I dozed off. I know, it’s terrible, but it was really boring and I was oh so very tired. But when the main attraction, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, started I was on the edge of my seat and stayed there, with my elbows perched on the railing in front of me, during the entire performance. It was captivating and phenomenally good, so good it was nearly an out-of-body experience. Can’t imagine how good it would have been had it been played by some of the world’s greatest musicians. Speaking of whom, Itzhak Perlman will be making an appearance during the next season (sometime in the fall of 2010).
If you haven’t experienced the symphony live or any theatrical/operatic performance live, I’d highly recommend it. Listen to it on CD first to see if you’d like it, then go hear it live. Your whole body gets into the music and your mind floats.

About fifteen years ago, Becky’s mom forced me to endure (fittingly) The Nutcracker at some theater in Milwaukee. I was asleep within minutes, and in truth I wore jeans. My only lasting emotional impression was being painfully embarrassed by a pair of stereotyped Chinese dancers. I’ve also been to maybe a dozen plays with varying luck. The ensemble assault of crowds, formal attire, and a yawning cultural gap (figurative and usually literal) makes the theater a waste of my time, money, and stress. If my “mind floats” amidst a dense crowd, I probably had a cerebral aneurysm.