This is Saint Anthony. He is preaching to the fishies, a phenomenon that Mahler documents in his second symphony, which I am playing in orchestra. This has no bearing on the rest of whatever you’re about to read.
Endings
Today we rehearsed in Symphony Hall. We sounded terrible on our run through, but we started shaping up nicely near the end of the last movement- see below for a good rendition of that part.
If you are unwilling or unable to listen to some ninety odd minutes of classical music, or don’t believe that centuries-old symphonies can be spoiled, you will be fine with me describing the following. In this short ending, the organ and chorus both come back in full force. They scream some inspiring shit about God and resurrection (I firmly believe the lyrics are the least cool thing about this music) and—I just shivered re-listening to it—the stage and the entire hall shakes with the force of the music. If you have ever been inside Symphony Hall, you know the organ is essentially from wall to wall, and the space is shaped like a shoebox yet you have never heard better acoustics. This ending does things to people. Me, for one. Today is the closest I’ve ever been to crying from a piece of music. Peek the second-stand first violinist from an earlier incarnation of my youth orchestra actually crying after the ending of Mahler 2: I’ve linked the specific URL below.
Now, all this to say—we sounded terrible the entire first half of the rehearsal, then immediately capped it off with this ending that leaves many audiences inconsolable. Chills down my spine, the whole lot.
Then we played it again and it was instantly worth nothing.
I felt nothing, my arm hurt, blah blah blah and all the imperfections were oh so obvious, how are we gonna play this concert tomorrow, Jesus I forgot to invite people, I’m literally sitting second stand why does this mean anything? I propose two explanations for this- 1) simply getting bored of repetition or 2) the end truly means nothing without the buildup.
1) Is somewhat unlikely, given I listen to this piece like once or twice a day on average. tbh I’d be leaning 2) even if 1) was likely. I admit it sounds like bullshit. I hate it when people tell me things like “iT’s aBoUt tHe pRoCeSs”, however true or correct they may be. But following Tar’s advice: I obliterated myself in favor of the music, and now this feeling comes out on top, that truly the process is what makes the ending mean anything. What does this say about me, or Mahler, or the baton of Ben Zander? I do not know.
Irish Goodbyes
I read this cute little comic a couple days ago:
http://www.sheldoncomics.com/archive/230421.html
So now I get to use this term for the first time, after googling it because I had no clue what it meant. Today after rehearsal, I was tempted to give an Irish goodbye to all my friends. My phone was vibrating in my pocket (it’s always on vibrate :/), which meant that my parents had seen the first person leave the rehearsal venue, and they were angry that the person was not me.
But there is this terrible little thing called obligation, and for that I had to stay and say bye to my girlfriend. So I did, as one does, and suddenly she shoots me a look and says cloyingly, “You can’t stay two minutes to have a conversation?” Well, alright. I am fond of her so I stay and appease her, make small talk. I hug her and leave, and predictably get yelled at in the car ride back to my dorm. Why was I so late? I sit farther from the backstage than 80% of the orchestra, and I got there early so naturally, my cello case is the farthest. Who was I with? Uh, I said bye to my friends I guess. It’s not the interrogation that bothers me, but the way my mom ignores my answers and stares disapprovingly, as if I’ve just broken some cardinal rule. She doesn’t care that I’m one of the first twenty people to get out, she just cares that it’s 10:07 and god forbid I bring up that rehearsal ended at 10:03, while the walk from the backstage to the exit is roughly 2 minutes.
I don’t understand how my parents need me to be one of the first few out, yet also need me to have friends and keep them.
It strikes me how little most of my friends know about my personal life at home. My friends must think I am the World Champion of the Irish Goodbye. I have neither the heart nor the reason to broadcast that this is not by my own will (not so much unlike the pile of medals that hangs on my doorknob at home). If it were up to me, I would hug every one of my friends and say see you tomorrow! haha I can’t believe Ben yelled at Alfonso over something so—yeah let’s get him some flowers—yeah! 6 pm, maybe dinner?
So I guess, if you’re reading this and I’ve ever left someplace without saying bye to you, whoops. Sorry. Bad habit, or my mom was there waiting for me. It feels the same either way and I need to get over myself quick before I turn 18 so I’m not just disappearing from social situations.
How much else of my core personality is shaped by my parents?
symphony hall is the name of the main concert hall at my school, so that jarred me for a moment. before i realized "symphony hall" is quite the common name.
Your last sentence / question struck me so hard. Sometimes I sit and wonder how much of my mannerisms, the goals and things I care about in the world, and the tiny little decisions I make every day are mirrors of my parents. It's scary to think how deeply they've defined our mental states and beliefs and I dont know if its possible to ever break the cycle.