Arriving at Pasadena Central Library, I went one block past the building to park. As I pulled up at the intersection, about to turn right into an available spot, I noticed that the person in my peripheral vision was familiar to me. I looked over in time to hear him say “whoa” as he pointed at me across the street. It was Brian and Brianne out for a walk. They don't live in pasadena and I'm just here for the concert; total coincidence that I run into two of my favorite people at an intersection. My life is full of coincidence. They say coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous.
I’m heading to Melinda’s concert, excited to see her perform a piece of her own composition. Technically, it's the Pasadena Creative Concert Series, featuring chamber music world premieres and the prewar gems of Raymond Scott. I'm here to see Melinda, so it's Melinda's concert.
Josh Charney takes the stage to applause. His piece, The Great Gold Heron, was inspired by a walk next to the LA river. The juxtaposition of concrete and nature are mirrored in his combinations of chaos and structure. Cello, Violin, Piano, Percussion. My favorite part of this piece is the use of breath exhalation sounds as a percussion texture.
I wouldn't have known it was 7/8 timing if Maria hadn't told me. My Greek sister. Haven't seen her in a couple months, since her name day. The second piece, guitar flute duet, was like two instruments talking to each other. Music says so much, so simply.
The third piece is a modern composition based on viola harmonics. Brilliant! The technical expertise required to execute something like that is beyond my comprehension. But there's no melody I can attach to, or even discern. I feel like I'm not as much musician as the others in the room. This piece is going completely over my head.
So my mind drifts in other directions. I notice the way the two viola players are facing each other, separated by music stands laden with 20 minutes worth of sheet music for the piece. Andrew, grand piano at his back, facing Mark, who stands in front of drums. Andrew's movements, smooth, fluid. Mark, dramatic, jerky movements, flying hair. Reminds me of that viola player in the LA Philharmonic. She was fun to watch too, expecially with Dudamel conducting. Some kind of classical music flashback to my fraggle rock favorites.
Watching Andrew and Mark, I'm picturing their bows like swords, a couple of medieval gentlemen settling a dispute, or maybe a mad genius composer dancing with his alter-ego reflection. Is it ok that I don't understand the music in this piece? Am I less of a musician? It intimidates me sometimes that I don't read music. I'm disadvantaged in articulating my ideas to the trained and highly skilled musicians I interface with on a regular basis.
This feeds ongoing internal dialogue about structure. Structure versus Organic. Are they mutually exclusive? Jim said something brilliant on the subject: Structure is meant to contain life. If it's too tight, life suffocates; too loose, life spills.
This year of music and worship begins with significant increase in concert attendance. I've been to more concerts in the last 7 days than the previous 7 months. Two classical and one Armenian pop, where I relied solely on the music, since I understood none of the words.
Unfamiliar styles and unknown structures. What will I learn about music? What about worship?
Goodnight, Beautiful...
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