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Concert Reminiscence and Lab Reports
Tuesday, February 21st, 2006 10:55 amThe concert on Saturday was really a highlight!
It was also sold out, so I had been a little anxious about getting a seat at all. Well, that was no problem, I was the first one there. I got a great seat, but somehow I was too shy to take pictures, I wasn't too sure whether it was inappropriate or not, so in the end I only took three pictures. Shame, orchestras are so pretty! I felt so much like a proud Mum at a school concert I somehow didn't want to act it, too. It was all I could do not to give Crocky a little wave when I saw her.
The Kelvin Ensamble are very good, as I said, and the pieces they had selected were awesome.
Well, Tchaikovsky generally is. They played his fifth, which is, in want of impressive technical jargon, absolutely beautiful (although I felt somehow around the middle that yes, thank you, Tchaik, we know your favourite theme. You can stop repeating it over and over again now).
The other piece they did was the Grieg piano concerto... Hm. It's embarrassing to admit it and speaks volumes about my musical understanding, but somehow, the piano part annoyed me. Sometimes, I couldn't help feeling that I would have liked some parts more without the piano.
And I love pianos! Ignore me. I am ignorant. Why am I rambling on about the pieces? I have nothing intelligent to say about them, anyway. So.
The pianist was really perfect, though, and it was one of the few instances where the soloist actually played WITH the orchestra and listened to what they were doing. That was really impressive and I wouldn't have expeted it of such an orchestra. But then, they are just sooo good.
Somehow, such occasions always make me sad for not having learnt to play an instrument. Even my hated recorder would be at least something, and the Cellos made me especially wistful (say what? What is that word doing there? Bah, thanks, Charlotte Bronte. Assimilation can suck, too). I want to learn how to play Cello!
... Well, no. Actually, I want to wake up one morning, spontaneously being able to play Cello, without the painstaking process involving all thsoe wrong notes and strange, catty sounds.
I guess anything would be better than being condemned to be in the brass section.
Tehehe. Not that I don't love and adore trombones (better had), but the sight of the three of them sitting there was really funny at times. All the orchestra busy, fiddlesticks flourishing, the conductor ready to take off, his arms flailing, face contorted in the extasy of conducting great music... and three trombones sitting at the back, immobile, all dressed up with nowhere to go, looking supremely bored.
Well, actually, they were counting.
45 bars later, what a surprise! The first and third trombone, the only ones who are actually reliable at counting, lift up their instruments, waking up the second trombone - suddenly they all actually seem to be getting ready to play something - AND - one note. How exciting.
The second trombone, by the way, is only second trombone because he does not have a plug, apparently. He never comes to rehearsals, when he comes, he's drunk - and even at the concert he looked ready to slide of the chair and fall asleep there and then.
Pause. 80 bars. Three notes.
90 bars. Thrilling. Poor Crocky. But she was really good. Well, she always is, so no news.
On Sunday I've just been doing some severe spring cleaning, but that was fun. It meant that I could put off doing some actual work, like this sodding lab report. And now, it's editing. Revising. Lab Reports suck. The Working Memory sucks. Things entitled "The retention of three randomised consonants over 5 different periods of time with a diversionary subtraction task" suck.
It's absolutely great weather outside. Absolutely beautiful. The sky is blue, I have even seen a finch around, the flowers are opening, I bet the countryside is absolutely beautiful... and I have to be here until four. I want a train ticket, free time, Crocky, my camera, my trainers, and some lonely, rolling hills. Sigh. Back to retention.
It was also sold out, so I had been a little anxious about getting a seat at all. Well, that was no problem, I was the first one there. I got a great seat, but somehow I was too shy to take pictures, I wasn't too sure whether it was inappropriate or not, so in the end I only took three pictures. Shame, orchestras are so pretty! I felt so much like a proud Mum at a school concert I somehow didn't want to act it, too. It was all I could do not to give Crocky a little wave when I saw her.
The Kelvin Ensamble are very good, as I said, and the pieces they had selected were awesome.
Well, Tchaikovsky generally is. They played his fifth, which is, in want of impressive technical jargon, absolutely beautiful (although I felt somehow around the middle that yes, thank you, Tchaik, we know your favourite theme. You can stop repeating it over and over again now).
The other piece they did was the Grieg piano concerto... Hm. It's embarrassing to admit it and speaks volumes about my musical understanding, but somehow, the piano part annoyed me. Sometimes, I couldn't help feeling that I would have liked some parts more without the piano.
And I love pianos! Ignore me. I am ignorant. Why am I rambling on about the pieces? I have nothing intelligent to say about them, anyway. So.
The pianist was really perfect, though, and it was one of the few instances where the soloist actually played WITH the orchestra and listened to what they were doing. That was really impressive and I wouldn't have expeted it of such an orchestra. But then, they are just sooo good.
Somehow, such occasions always make me sad for not having learnt to play an instrument. Even my hated recorder would be at least something, and the Cellos made me especially wistful (say what? What is that word doing there? Bah, thanks, Charlotte Bronte. Assimilation can suck, too). I want to learn how to play Cello!
... Well, no. Actually, I want to wake up one morning, spontaneously being able to play Cello, without the painstaking process involving all thsoe wrong notes and strange, catty sounds.
I guess anything would be better than being condemned to be in the brass section.
Tehehe. Not that I don't love and adore trombones (better had), but the sight of the three of them sitting there was really funny at times. All the orchestra busy, fiddlesticks flourishing, the conductor ready to take off, his arms flailing, face contorted in the extasy of conducting great music... and three trombones sitting at the back, immobile, all dressed up with nowhere to go, looking supremely bored.
Well, actually, they were counting.
45 bars later, what a surprise! The first and third trombone, the only ones who are actually reliable at counting, lift up their instruments, waking up the second trombone - suddenly they all actually seem to be getting ready to play something - AND - one note. How exciting.
The second trombone, by the way, is only second trombone because he does not have a plug, apparently. He never comes to rehearsals, when he comes, he's drunk - and even at the concert he looked ready to slide of the chair and fall asleep there and then.
Pause. 80 bars. Three notes.
90 bars. Thrilling. Poor Crocky. But she was really good. Well, she always is, so no news.
On Sunday I've just been doing some severe spring cleaning, but that was fun. It meant that I could put off doing some actual work, like this sodding lab report. And now, it's editing. Revising. Lab Reports suck. The Working Memory sucks. Things entitled "The retention of three randomised consonants over 5 different periods of time with a diversionary subtraction task" suck.
It's absolutely great weather outside. Absolutely beautiful. The sky is blue, I have even seen a finch around, the flowers are opening, I bet the countryside is absolutely beautiful... and I have to be here until four. I want a train ticket, free time, Crocky, my camera, my trainers, and some lonely, rolling hills. Sigh. Back to retention.
