Ravel, Rachmaninov and Romance

I should’ve known. Actually I had a sneaking suspicion. It WAS Valentine’s Day after all.

So, before I go any further, let me preface by saying that I had the privilege of learning classical violin and piano growing up. It was a serious deal, considering the fact that my mom at one point was a piano music performance major and my grandmother performed violin seriously for many years. As a result of learning these instruments, attending the symphony was a common occurrence…the music, culture and MANNERS have all been ingrained in me.

Back to now. My husband, Steve was the sweetest and got tickets to the symphony performance for Valentine’s Day. It included one of Rachmaninov’s piano concertos – and considering the fact that I think Rachmoninov could save the world – it was an excellent choice of activity for v-day.

The program was promising – romantic Russians and French composers – what failed register in my mind was, that v-day is a day that inspires people to engage in activities that they would not otherwise engage in or initiate, but for the expectation to do something “sophisticated,” “romantic” or “impressive.” The symphony for many, is one of those activities…need I say more?

So, we take our seats and immediately my attention is not drawn to the beautiful surroundings of Benyaroya Hall – rather, it is focused on the smacking taking place right in front of me. No, not a wife smacking her husband with her hand or purse – I’m talking about lip on lip “smacking.” Let me try to explain what this looked and sounded like – because every time I refer to it (and that will be many), I want you to, as closely as possible, experience what I experienced for two hours. Both the boyfriend and the girlfriend made a point to not lean into one another, but stretch their lips out as far as humanly possible, so as to provide a clear profile of what was about to happen. Following the extended fish-lip stretch came the “smack” which with Benaroya’s acoustics, could I’m sure, be heard at each tier in the hall. You think I’m exaggerating. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with sweet public displays of affection – but really? Every, 2-3 minutes? Not exaggerating. The couple’s affections will now be represented by *smack.*

Almost everyone in the orchestra is seated and the concert master stands up to tune *smack*, the symphony begins to tune to her “A” *smack* and one could not help but notice the empty chair at the far right, the second violin section…everyone was seated except for that chair. The orchestra has stopped tuning and for a moment while we wait for the conductor it is quiet…*smack* and still no sign of the last chair second violin. Guest conductor JoAnn Falletta runs out and everyone begins to clap. My attention (aside from the couple in front of me) however, is fixed on that empty chair. Until wait, the side stage door opens and you see one foot step out with a violin – simultaneously however, Falletta starts to raise her hands and….in that moment of quiet anticipation for the performance to begin….*smack* the side door shuts. The Ravel Waltz begins without that second violinist…unbeknownst to the couple in front of me…*smack.* I think you get the point? I’ll spare you for the rest of this entry.

The Rachmoninov piano concerto was exquisite. So exquisite that after the first movement, what seemed to be twenty-five percent of the audience broke into applause – which in symphony world is a no-no. Generally speaking, with a piece that has “movements” or different sections you wait for the entire piece to be completed before the applause is appropriate. Nikolai Lugansky, the pianist, quickly moved on to the gorgeous middle movement. Delicate, languid, and dramatic, Nikolai made playing the piano look incredibly easy. In the middle of one of the most beautiful and quiet passages…a new sound could be heard – but it wasn’t from the symphony…it was from five rows up. It was the crackle and unwrapping of candy – perhaps the mentos or peanut M&Ms that were sold downstairs? This combined with the girlfriend’s need to snap photos throughout the piece made this an unforgettable portion of the program.

The final piece was from French composer, Faure’s Requiem. The Seattle Chorale was ushered onto the stage and a baritone and soprano joined for several movements. It was beautiful – but by this time, those not accustomed to two hours of classical music are getting antsy. Case in point, take our lovable boyfriend sitting in front of us – when he wasn’t engaged in reassuring his love for girlfriend – he started to crack his knuckles for the span of five minutes. He made it a point to make sure every finger on each hand was properly “popped.” I couldn’t believe it; I had almost all that I could handle. I looked over to Steve, sure that he was as disgusted as I was…indeed he was chuckling to himself and I whispered, “what, the knuckles?” Surely he knew what I was talking about. No, instead he whispered back, “no, I was thinking about how funny it would be if the conductor knocked the baritone in the back of the head.”
So, my experience has led me to the following letter of apology:

Dear Nickolai Lugansky and company,

You’re playing this evening seems to have brought out the romantic, snack-eating, impulsive hand-clapping, camera-flashing best of Seattle. We have Rachmoninov, Valentine’s Day, and your beautiful playing to thank for that. Please forgive our inability to appropriately appreciate the marvelous program that you were so graciously a part of. I look forward to your return…hopefully you will return.

Please come back, but not on the 14th of February,

Valerie

p.s. – oh and please, call me val.