Sunday, March 23, 2014

In which the Maestro gets me a drink

Last night, after a great Seattle Symphony concert featuring a new piano concerto by Alexander Raskatov and the dearly beloved (by me, at least) Pathetique Symphony (Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony), we stayed after for a Q&A session with the soloist, Tomoko Mukaiyama, and of course the conductor, Ludovic Morlot.

As you may know, the Pathetique is an EXTREMELY emotional piece  (hence the name - you know, pathos) and brings many people to tears.  It is non-traditional in many respects and,  in particular, unlike most symphonies, the third movement, ends with a dramatic crash of percussion and brass.  Most people who are not familiar with the piece assume it is over and break into applause.  Of course, the somber last movement is still to come which ends with an exquisite quiet passage courtesy of the bass section.

When asked about it, Mr Morlot said he didn't really mind the ill-timed clapping and it seems to happen nearly every time the piece is performed.   He mentioned one performance he attended where the orchestra took their bows after the third movement and left the stage!  However, they came back a little later to finish the piece.  He also pointed out that the tradition of not clapping between movements is a relatively recent (20th Century) phenomenon and implied that we should not be all persnickety about it.

As my cara sposa is attending a conference this weekend at Benaroya, I accompanied her to a reception for attendees and musicians after the Q&A. I have become quite comfortable in my usual role at this sort of event, i.e. playing the useless appendage to the musical historian of the family.  As I was standing around trying to look intelligent, who should approach our little conversational group but Maestro Morlot himself.  Some good vodka was being served and, noticing my lack of a glass, he asked if I wanted some.  I said I was driving soon and probably should not.  However, being the persuasive guy that he is, and arguing that he too was driving soon, I consented to a small snort.

The next thing I know, the conductor of the Seattle Symphony is scurrying off to the drinks table!  I said to no one in particular "Is he really getting me a drink?"  As it happens, he was.  Naturally, I thanked him politely, drained my glass, and acted like world renowned musicians fetching me drinks is a regular thing with me.

And the vodka was good.

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