Did you know Igor Stravinsky lived until 1971? That’s one of those weird facts that seems impossible to me. When I think of any classical music composer, I assume they were born in 1700, lived for 48 years, contracted a disease that made their liquified brains drain into their lungs, and died unceremoniously in a street surrounded by feral dogs. That’s how long ago it feels to me for famous composers and artists. Instead, Igor Stravinsky could have performed at Woodstock. Pablo Picasso could have played an early version of motherfucking Atari. It’s a real headtrip.
The reason I mention it is because my wife and I went to see a performance of Stravinsky’s “The Firebird Suite” this past weekend, and it. Was. Delightful. I couldn’t have had a better time.
I say this as someone with literally no musical background whatsoever. My wife grew up in a very musical household (guess whose idea it was to go in the first place?); she’s the one who can witness what’s happening on stage and respond accordingly. She’s the one who knows something about how orchestras are assembled and positioned on stage. She’s the one who knows what the conductor is doing when it looks like they’re going full Karen and screaming at an invisible sales manager teenage retail worker.
Me? It’d been YEARS since I’d been to a concert of any kind, let alone anything remotely orchestral. The closest thing to it was probably The Lion King on Broadway? I guess? Even then, I saw that all the way back in 2007. That’s the year the first iPhone came out. (Again, time is a real headtrip!)
Put another way: I had no idea what I was in for, no idea what to watch for, no idea really who Stravinsky even was. If you put a gun to my head, I’m not sure I could even tell you the difference between a cello and an upright bass. I assume one is bipedal and the other is quadrupedal? Don’t fact check me on that, I just want to believe it’s true.
The point here is: It’s not super often I get to experience something almost completely freshly. I was excited when it started and that excitement only receded when it was making room for amazement. Maybe this sounds obvious, but live music — deep, complex, wonderful live music — has a real way of captivating the mind. This was doubly true last weekend. I’m used to concerts where I know most of the songs that are played and I know most of the words to those songs. Not only was I not familiar with the work performed that night, one of the pieces made its world premier just last year:
Those two? Vijay Iyer and Inbal Segev? They were in the room, on the stage, performing modern orchestral music. There were no lyrics. No one’s heard this piece in like a dozen TV commercials over the years. This was a new, pandemic-inspired original composition. What else can you do but sit and enjoy?
Again, this isn’t exactly new territory I’m exploring, but the feeling that arises when you listen to music is incredible. I mean really listen to it — not just as background noise, not in your car on the way to work, not as a part of some other activity. The music IS the activity. It’s less like drinking from a faucet and more like jumping into a pool. It immerses you completely, if you’re willing to let it, and suddenly every detail matters.
Best of all, the conductor, who may as well be a magician. It’s entirely appropriate that our conductor was given a wand — her work was utterly spellbinding. All night long, with every arm thrust and gesture and twitch and crouch, she conjured the sound out of the performers around her. There was no way to escape it even if I’d wanted to. No, I don’t understand how it works. It honestly seems completely made up, like the performers just know the piece and they’re humoring the conductor. But I know it’s not. It’s significantly more complex than I know, I’m sure.
What’s the point of this post? I don’t know. I think I was still under the spell when I left the concert hall because I came home determined to write something about it, even if it wasn’t funny or interesting (inb4 “Were you under a spell for the rest of your posts too?” Quality joke, but I already thought of it). The original point of this journey I’m on was to learn more about myself through tests and other experiences. I’m not sure that happened, but there’s something to be said for seeing others who’ve already found themselves showcase their talents. It’s what makes the human archipelago so compelling.