In which there is music

Tonight was Gilad Cohen (or you can substitute the name of any other Jews I know) tribute night. The Israeli embassy was hosting a classical concert featuring their own musicians. The highlight was the fact that this Israli virtuoso was combining his piano skills with a tablas player. Which is a fantastic idea in theory (reminding me of several years ago when DJ’s realized that spinning with a live drummer rules), but needed a little more rehearsal time.

The Rachmaninov pieces were too short. I like Rachmaninov. The Debussy was impossibly French (in a good way). The Brahms had the addition of a string quartet and was a significantly longer piece. More people to look at, more technique to enjoy. Brahms did a very nice thing when writing this one. He gave each member of the ensemble a chance to carry the lead at certain points. This is rare for the viola, which I have always felt is an underappreciated instrument. It helps that the viola player was cute.

I hadn’t been to a classical concert in...... over a year, but I think less than two. Attending them makes me sad, chiefly because I chose to quit my own performing years ago which is a decision I question often (there was nothing I enjoyed more in high school). There is a whole language of emotions that a musician will communicate to their audience, made all the stronger if the performers are fully committed to their performance. (I know this sounds like acting, but it’s *not* the same thing at all.) All of the performers tonight were fully engaged with each other, and they were *enjoying* themselves. You would see them smile, savour the notes they were playing, and appreciate the notes others were playing. Music *must* be a team effort, or it will sound terrible. (These guys sounded quite good).

The addition of an intermission (and a bar) would have been greatly appreciated by myself and probably other members of the audience. Still, the audience disruption was minimal, albiet more entertaining than usual. Only three cell phones went off, but there was a old man sitting in the front row who was constantly hoarking up what must have been *massive* amounts of phlegm. I just figured that maybe he had stomach cancer or some equally unpleasant old-man illness that required him to constantly spit. Noisily. Oh, there was a guy who entered the auditorium, crossed the front of the audience with great purpose, and then started speaking to someone at a volume slightly above normal. He was *actually* trying to talk *over* the music. The audience made quick work of him. The musicians seemed amused, although I’m sure there was part of them that dislikes people like that. Who wouldn’t?

Addendum: Those of you that know Gilad are probably wondering how the hell a classical concert can be aligned with the Family of Pain (tm). It wasn’t really. There was no rye. I just saw Israel and thought (fondly) of Gilad. The only moments of tonight that could be associated with the House of Pain would be the fact that I set off a metal detector (as I *always* do) on the way in, and the pianist would occasionally punctuate the end of his playing with duel “Immediately” hands.