oboeinsight

I visit A Sort of Notebook frequently, and Waterfall recently had a post that made me smile. I hope she won’t mind that I’m cutting and pasting some of that blog entry here:

As far as the sound of an instrument, I think the oboe is without question has the most beautiful sound in the entire orchestra. When the oboe plays–even if it’s not soloing–it’s like all of the other instruments are just humming in the background. My heartbeat seems to quicken just a little bit whenever I hear that lovely, familiar, mournful sound among the others. It has a warmth to it that the other instruments (except for the piano, which is just a little bit warmer) don’t seem to have.

Do you know that sense of familiarity you get whenever you hear your name called out in a crowd? Someone may be calling out to someone else, but you turn anyway because it’s your name. Well, that’s the same feeling I get when I hear a piano or an oboe. It’s understandable with the piano, since I’ve played it for so long, but it’s kind of a strange thing with the oboe.

Either my weird, part-deaf ears are specially tuned to the oboe (this may very well be the case), or else I’m a closet oboist wanna-be.

It’s probably my weird ears, seeing as they hear certain pitches acutely, others as merely rumblings, and still others not at all. But still, maybe I should hang out with Patty and Hilda just a bit more …

So yes … LET’S HANG OUT TOGETHER! Even if you don’t play oboe, we can do duets and trios with piano, right? What do ya say? Hilda?

Darn distance issues. 🙁
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I am just home from the Symphony Silicon Valley concert. I played in the first half, and barely that—I sat (as still as is possible for me) for 3 works in the first half, and played the overture and two arias.

But the second half.

Wow.

I was so moved. After the Ave Verum Corpus ended (it followed the Requiem directly—no applause) there was a silence of the sort one rarely hears. Not an uncomfortable, “Can we clap now, please?” silence. But an awe filled silence. It was incredible. When we finally began to applaud, and rose to our feet, I looked at Dan because I wanted to comment on the superb music and performance but when I looked at him I found I couldn’t talk because I would start to cry if I did.

Mozart’s Requiem and his Ave Verum Corpus … well … words can’t come close to expressing how incredible those works are. Far too many amazing moments. Absolutely stunning music. Really.

I had purchased two great seats for Dan and Jameson, and when I spotted their arrival prior to the first half I kept my eye on the seat next to them. Sadly someone didn’t show up. Well, sadly … but that did mean that I could sit with the two of them for the second half. So while I wish folks would turn in their tickets so that they can be sold to someone else, I was happy to find that seat available for yours truly. My mother and sister were there too; they had the same reaction to the performance as Dan and I did.

I also ran into some friends I hadn’t seen for eons. It was so wonderful to see them and play a wee bit of “catch up” … but it also made me miss those friendships. Don’t you hate that people move, and that you lose track of them? Well, I do, anyway. I honestly don’t know what I’m missing until I see people again. Is it denial? Just busy schedules? I don’t know. But when I saw them those “missing feelings” sure popped up.

But back to the concert … a huge BRAVI to all my orchestra pals and to all the singers who performed in the second half. (The first half was great too, but that second half … tremendous!) Thanks to our fabulous Maestro, George Cleve. Thanks for making this a most memorable experience. I want to hang on to this one forever.

(Can you tell I liked the concert a lot, or am I holding back a bit?)
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