evening out

Last night, we attended a rehearsal for a Boston Symphony concert. We had a subscription to four rehearsals last year and thought we'd try it again this year. It's a bit of a schlep because of the funny hours -- it's best to be there 1.5 hours ahead of the 7:30 start to get good seats. And there's a lecture an hour before curtain time.

One delightful aspect is that it's different every time. Sometimes the conductor wants to go over the same passage repeatedly or concentrate on just one out of several pieces. Sometimes, because of union rules, the musicians are instructed to stop playing in the middle of a piece, sometimes mid-note. And at other times, you get a full concert performed in casual clothes. On top of that, when you sign up for a series, you sometimes hear music you would never never elect if you were just buying individual tickets.

And of course the audience reaction is often amusing -- much complaining (didn't like a piece, didn't like having to listen to one passage repeatedly, mad about not hearing the entire piece played through, and on and on) and lots of buzzing chatter so that at times the conductor asks the audience for quiet so that he (always he so far) can work. I actually like the rehearsal environment, perhaps because of years working in the theater.

Last night was fabulous. Few people came in the beginning so that we got great seats (tenth row, in the perfect location to see the pianist). The lecture beforehand was great -- a few musical snippets, with hints about some of the highlights, along with a lot of social context thrown in. And we got to hear two pieces that I thought would be overly challenging -- both mid-twentieth century (not my favorite era), and both responses to World War II (not my favorite musical subject).

The first piece was by Ullman, and though I don't remember it well after one hearing, it was a piece I'd like to listen to a few more times because there was definitely something interesting going on there. The second was by Shostakovitch and had a gorgeous Bolero-like passage in the first movement that depicted the invasion of Leningrad. The passage started out as an innocuous curiosity and, after twelve variations, had built into a terrifying clamor.

And then, for our encore, we strolled back to the car in the light snow. There's something magical about the city at night in the snow, with people walking quietly, a few umbrellas, flakes drifting down, cars a little more cautious. Our path took us back through the Christian Science complex. Although I think the individual buildings are close to hideous, I've come to appreciate the ensemble -- two long buildings, one on its side and its twin standing guard, the ghost of another sibling in the form of a long, low reflecting pool (emptied in winter, so just a shallow pit), and the oddball round building, still clearly a member of the same family.

Ride home was fine, though after we picked up my car, I was glad Robert gave me lots of space because it was slippery in a few spots.