Text 3306, 58 rader
Skriven 2013-08-09 17:31:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: music week 976
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So I came to town for a week starting by playing in an
informal (admission only $10, a bargain) concert of the
Vivaldi Gloria, one of the pieces that haunts my life -
as I remarked to a chorus member, I must have made $10K
over the years playing it, and I can essentially play
the first violin part in my sleep - and the Faure
Requiem, one of the most beautiful works ever written
and of which, it turns out, I can essentially play the
first violin or first viola part in my sleep. My friend
Bill the conductor was guest artist for a local chorus
up on the north shore. My buddy Uncle Alan is the resident
CM for the group, so we arranged it that he would CM for
the first piece, and I would sit in the back of the first
violins, and we'd switch for the second piece, and it was
so. I like to think that I lead better, but that of course
is a matter of opinion. We had a sea of violins (16 I
think) and violas (7), which contributed to a nice rich
sound. I couldn't hear the violas most of the time.

Afterward we went out for pizza and beer, only I had two
pills in my pocket, enough for a slice of veggie and
Provel. I was going to sit by a young woman I'm interested
in, only my old buddy Trude wanted me to sit at her table,
and I couldn't turn her down, as she's quickly slid into
senile dementia over the last year or two and doesn't get
out much so is pathetically eager to talk with familiar
people from the olden days. It was a bit of a trial, as what
she says is mostly incomprehensible, and she knows it, which
translates into dismay and almost panic that every now and
again shows on her face. Sad - she was once one of the movers
and shakers on the local musical scene. On the other side of
me was a quite beautiful older woman whom I had once been
also interested in; one of the viola players had come on
to her, and she spent some time at the table heaping scorn
upon him (behind his back), and I felt lucky that I had
never actually asked her out and potentially become victim of
that. Whoo. It was like junior high gossip girls over there.

The pizza was rather bland, needing heavy intervention
from the hot pepper shaker. The thinnish crust, almost
unsalted, was fine, as were the peppers and onions, but
Provel can't be helped. Uncle Alan threw a slice of salami
and onion on my plate, and against my better judgment I
ate it up. He tried to do the same again, but I refused it;
as it was I tooted like a foghorn most of the night.

There were five beers on tap - they wasted two on Sam Summer
and the similar but nastier Blue Moon; then there was Bud and
Bud Light. I had the fifth - Killian's. It wasn't horrible
and was only $3 something a pint, so I had two.

The rest of the week was to be a lighthearted orgy of eating,
beer, and quartets, but that doesn't seem to be in the works
now.

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