Last night my husband and I were privileged to spend another evening with the Ann Arbor Symphony.  The program, titled Russian Romance,  included three pieces all energetic, rich with imagery, full bodied and lush.

They opened with the Overture to Rusland and Ludmila, from an Opera about a princess and her betrothed warrior, composed by Mikhail Glinka in the mid 1800’s.   The strings raced up and down long runs of notes as if they were a single instrument, the clarinet showcased in the middle captured my heart and the sound of the orchestra swelled and filled the hall with such a robust sound it was clear this piece was meant to be a fanfare for the rest of the evening.

Also on the program was Symphony No. 5 composed by Prokofiev in 1944.  Each of the four movements brought such imagery to my mind.  The first movement reminded me of a massive Russian army marching across a cold barren landscape.  The second movement was more “Peter and the Wolf ” -ish, only bigger, with animals running and frolicking in a deep Russian woods.  I’m pretty sure I heard an elephant or two in there as well.  I think this movement was my favorite.    The third movement started off reminding me of a dream scape, soft, floating, somewhat sad.  But it quickly turns into a nightmare with shrieking woodwinds and ranting strings moving closer and closer to some horrifying climatic event that we didn’t even want to imagine.  The fourth movement combined bits of all three, the playfulness of movement two intertwined with the marching army of movement one and the dreams in movement three.  And it all came to a crazy, frenetic, crashing conclusion that left us all gasping for air even as we began to applaud our appreciation.

But the highlight of the evening?  The twenty-five year old Israeli pianist Roman Rabinovich playing the Piano Concerto No. 3 by Rachmaninoff.  Prior to the concert he gave a little talk, and when asked what we as audience members should listen for during his performance he paused…thought a moment…then said: “There are a lot of notes.  And you should listen to every one of them.”  We all laughed.  Later he said we “shouldn’t think too much…just let the music take you.”  Good advice.

It started out lush and full as if someone was falling in love, then moved into a playful period, as if the two lovers were enjoying their new relationship.  But soon ominous tones began to infiltrate; trouble in paradise?  The music became more frantic and it became clear (to me anyway) that this was the story of an overly dramatic teenager.  Then came slower, and more plaintive music, almost contemplative music that moved toward angst and confusion.  Then the flutes calmed the senses and the oboe has a conversation with the rest of the orchestra as well as the piano.   The music become plaintive again and then the piano takes over, reminding me of an older couple walking hand in hand through the landscape, remembering their history together, the memories portrayed in different parts of the movement lively and full of life, including the dancing of a waltz together near the end of the lives.

Then the music chages again and it is as if we are on horses galloping through hills and woods, perhaps on a hunt.  We’re soaring over fields and I followed the pianist’s advice…I let go and flowed with the music for the rest of the piece.  I can’t tell you the details from this point on…it was as if we were flying and this talented young man was the horse with wings.   As the piece came to an end with a lush, fully orchestrated swell I knew the young lovers, the older couple and everyone in the audience lived happily ever after.

And as the last note slipped into the heavens the audience erupted.  Rabinovich played three encores; it was as if we couldn’t let him go.  Such talent.

What a gift all the musicians gave to us last night.  I wish you all could have been there.

I’ve won an award – someone thinks I’m a “versatile blogger!”  Check out Carol’s (my nominator) blog to see her own list.   Hmmmm.  Here I always thought I was just a somewhat disorganized and scattered blogger – you know, talking about whatever whenever.  Versatile is such a better term.  Don’t you think?

And look!  I was even able to get this lovely versatile blogger thingy to show up as well!  Amazing.  Perhaps what I actually am is a technically versatile blogger.  OK.  Maybe that’s a stretch.  Now stop laughing!

So anyway  I’m supposed to tell you 7 amazing and previously unknown things about me.  Right.  Like you don’t already know all the amazingly interesting things about me and my life.  Especially about my dog.  Of course there are some of you, the “newbies,”  who haven’t been around for my  entire blogging ride.  So I might cheat a tiny bit and throw in a few things that some of you might already know.   Or I might not.

Here goes:  Seven Amazing Things You Don’t Know About Me! (This feels somewhat like standing on the high dive above a high school pool)

1.  I don’t really have a favorite color.  When asked that question I always stall and then say ‘blue’ because somehow that seems to be the color expected.  But really I can’t pick a favorite, they are all so special.  Just like kids, each is exactly right.

2.  I wish I could have a second dog.  Without a fenced yard we have to take the one we have outside on a leash to do her jobs or play.  She’s somewhat of a full time job and I can’t see us doing all of this times 2.  But still.  This is why I’m afraid to volunteer at a shelter; the risk of adding to our family is so big.

3.  If I could do anything at all without regard to responsibilities or relationships or commitments I’d sell everything I had…well I’d probably have to give it away because it’s not worth anything…and buy a small recreational vehicle and just travel.  I’d stop at anything that looked interesting but I wouldn’t live anywhere at all.

4.  I wish I could paint and draw the things that are inside my head.  What’s there just doesn’t translate onto paper.  Alternatively I wish I could accept that what does transfer is still art.

5.  I think soup is the perfect food (other than the fact you can’t eat it with your fingers) and like to collect wonderful recipes.  I like to make the soup too and even better, share it with family and friends.

6.  I never had children, but I would like to put a child through college.  Somehow.  More than the education, the college experience is such a life-changing experience and so important to the total growth of anyone.  I’d like a child somewhere to know that if they stay in high school, get the grades that are required for college, then they’re going to be able to go.

7.    Sometimes I  forget  how old I am.  Most of the time I still believe I can do all the things I’ve ever dreamed of doing.  And when I take a moment to look back I’m kind of amazed at all I’ve already done.  But I’m not finished.  Not by a long shot.

So thanks Carol for asking me to play!  I think I’m supposed to name some new people to pass this award to…but I’m not good at that.  So I invite all of you to sit still for a moment and think of 7 amazing things about yourself.  It’s a good exercise – to take the time to think positive thoughts about yourself.  Can you come up with 7?  It’s not that easy;  most of us were brought up to be modest – not taught to toot our own horn.  But it’s worth a try.  Because each of you  have way more than 7 interesting and amazing traits that you could explore.

And if you want to share them –  cool!  I’d be eager to learn more about you all.

This evening husband and I, along with my aunt, were privileged to attend another Ann Arbor Symphony performance.  The concert was called “American Celebration” and all the works played were composed in the United States.  Much of the music had a uniquely American feeling, sounds that might have come from a bit of the old west, some raucous comedy, the noise of a busy city street, peacefulness of  quiet reflection.   It is a gift to experience an evening of Ann Arbor Symphony music filling the hall at the Michigan Theater; the sounds created by individual musicians combining  into something bigger and grander than can really be described.  But of course I’ll try.

Tonight’s  first offering was  “Seattle Slew:  Three Dances in Forequarter Time” composed by William Bolcom, a Pulitzer Prize and Grammy Award winner, Seattle native and professor emeritus of composition at the University of Michigan.  We heard just one of the three dances, a lively, fun, sometimes humorous piece composed for dancers and to honor the horse Seattle Slew.  I was sitting about 7 rows behind the composer during the performance, and I could just see the top of his head as it moved to the music he had written.  What a wondrous thing that must be, to hear your work done by such professionals!  Of course Mr. Bolcom has undoubtedly heard his work played many times, but I have to imagine that each time brings heartfelt joy, especially when the piece is done as well as it was tonight.

The second piece featured a piano soloist, Arkadiy Figlin, doing George Gershwin’s Concerto in F.  Did I mention this concert was amazing?  Gershwin is always fun, and Mr. Figlin’s  improvisations made this rendition spectacular.  He told us during the pre concert lecture that he was “a bit nervous” about tonight’s concert because he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to play during his improv opportunities.  After listening to him perform I have to say I don’t think he needed to worry.  The first movement was so extraordinary, and ended with such strength and beauty that the audience broke into enthusiastic applause even though traditionally all applause should be held until the entire piece is finished.  And it wasn’t just one or two misguided folk who broke the “no applause till the end rule” …it was all of us, and let me tell you, we aren’t ashamed of our misbehavior!

All three movements of the Gershwin piece reminded me of sound tracks to movies.  The first was a fun, quickly moving piece and I pictured some lighthearted romance in a city, say New York, maybe in Central Park, where actors like Doris Day and Tony Curtis would frolic while the sounds of city traffic floated in the distance.  The second movement began in a more moody vein, as if it were the background music for Humphrey Bogart sitting in a dark 1930’s smokey bar, him staring into his drink and feeling blue over some girl he’d lost.  Then the music changed and I imagined a new dame sashaying into the bar catching his attention.  As he watches her he starts to imagine a whole life with her.  You know, the suburban house, 2 or 3 kids, a dog, drives in the country in a convertible…the improv of the solo pianist made me feel like there was going to be a happy ending after all for everyone.  The third movement reminded me of a car chase in a silent movie, all black and white and jerky.  Maybe Charlie Chaplin driving the getaway car, followed by some keystone type cops.  Up and down the mountain road they roar, Chaplin hiding his car behind boulders on occasion, then shooting out the other way, always just ahead of the cops.  The ending of the piece was clear to me; the cops crash into a big rock and Charlie drives off into the magnificent sunset, tipping his hat and winking at us on his way out. Now, really I doubt that anyone else saw these pictures in their mind as Mr. Figlin and the Symphony played, but you never know.  What I DO know is that we were all on our feet as the last notes died away and Mr. Figlin got two curtain calls.

I think we would have been satisfied if  the concert had ended with Gershwin, the program had been that fantastic, but we were in for a third treat–a more traditional symphony, No 9 in E minor From the New World, by Antonin Dvorak.   A strong piece with interchanging melodies,  the orchestra took off in the first movement, on fire and  pounding out the relentlessly compelling melody.  The second movement contained the music most of us recognize as the spiritual “Going Home.”  You know the one…

“Goin’ home, goin’ home, I’m a goin’ home;
Quiet-like, some still day, I’m jes’ goin’ home.

It’s not far, jes’ close by,
Through an open door;
Work all done, care laid by,
Goin’ to fear no more.

Mother’s there ‘spectin’ me,
Father’s waitin’ too;
Lots o’ folks gather’d there,
All the friends I knew,
All the friends I knew. Home, I’m goin’ home!”

This song has special meaning to my family, as we’ve used it in so many funerals and memorials in recent years.  The orchestra played it like a prayer, and I cried silent tears all the way through, sent it up to Mom and Dad and hoped they were listening.  The third movement was strong and quiet, big and beautiful, small and delicate, a joy to listen to, and a perfect ending to an amazing evening.

I know this blog entry turned out to be long…but I want to use this opportunity to encourage anyone that lives within a couple hours of Ann Arbor to investigate attending a performance as soon as you can.  If you haven’t been you’re missing a treat.  Even if you don’t think you’re into “classical music,” give it a try.   You just might find yourself sitting silently with tears running down your face.

And that’s a good thing.