Sorry about the delay this morning. We are short a few people at the office these past few days so it has become more difficult for me to juggle all the wonderful things on my to-do list. Eberhard and I had a rather enjoyable time this morning, putting a shipment of wheel weights into stock. I have a glamorous life, don’t you kid yourself. The symphony was wonderful last night, but of course we wound up rushing to everything. First I got stuck in traffic heading downtown, which means I was late meeting Stephen at his office. We had dinner at a nice restaurant around the corner from his work…can’t remember the name of it now, but I had a wonderful grilled chicken entrée, which miraculously did not make me run to the bathroom.
From the restaurant we hopped into the car and drove up Mt. Pleasant, which was anything but. Traffic was as thick as poop from King St. all the way up to the Toronto Centre for the Arts. We arrived two minutes before the concert started, at which point a nice little old lady was sitting in one of our seats. In what exact seat she really belonged is anyone’s guess. Stephen “kindly” asked her to relinquish the seat, at which point she muttered defeatedly under her breath, “but where shall I sit now?”
We later saw her during intermission walking about aimlessly, wearing an expression on her face which could only be described as a cross between confusion and determination. Her expression seemed to say, “I know I came here with someone but I don’t really remember exactly who that person was now.” I have been there myself, so I know about this.
The program began with the overture to Fidelio, conducted by Kerry Stratton; that was fun. Then the orchestra played a new piece by Robert Ian Winstin, an American born writer, entitled September 11th, 2001 9:05am, which I felt captured the feelings of that horrific day rather deftly, if not a few weeks late.
After 9/11 there was a ghastly piece by Alexander Brott, a German Canadian composer, who’s piece was supposedly based on a canon by Beethoven, and was entitled “Paraphrase in Polyphony”, which only left me wondering why anyone would want to do such a thing in the first place. I must give him credit though, because he certainly managed to accomplish his aim. There seemed to be more notes played in five minutes than in the entire Beethoven repertoire, which I might add is not an easy thing to accomplish. It was not only paraphrased, it was also thoroughly, rephrased, reworded, interpreted, translated, restated, and summarized beyond an inch of its life. Let’s face it; there is just no way to please everyone, especially me, even after trying absolutely every God forsaken note under the sun. “Paraphrase in Polyphony” managed to begin, extended, and then entirely eradicate any further curiosity on the matter of polyphony once and for all; and don’t we feel so much more at ease because of it?
After intermission, which I might add consisted mainly of one Chocolate Haagen-Dazs ice cream bar, and Stephen getting cruised by one particularly strange, yet somewhat famous PR man, whom we need not mention by name; suffice to say that this elderly gentleman wore cosmetic cover up foundation and a stark red jacket, which made, not seeing him virtually impossible. Anyone who’s anyone knows who I am talking about so let’s just leave it at that. The poor man (used loosely here) seemed utterly forlorn…but in a good way. Really.
Finally we arrive at the entire reason for being here in the first place: Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. What can I possible say to you if you don’t already know what I am going to say? If you ever get a chance to hear it performed live, just do it. This is simply the purest of music on earth and the scope of the “Ode to Joy” can only be described as breathtaking. Translated into modern day English, “Ode to Joy” actually means “Get a Life”, which is exactly what you will have after listening to and experiencing Ludwig von Beethoven’s 9th. Apparently it will not automatically give you good fashion sense, or make you realize the futility of dying your hair to match your red jacket, as the previously mentioned PR man, person, whatever, demonstrated rather spectacularly.
So the day begins…or rather is half over, either way it works if you work it. Now go tell two friends for shits and giggles that I am the funniest bitchy person in the universe.
