Imagine you’ve shelled out $31 for a ticket to hear the RPO. The players are warming up. The lights dim. A lanky young man walks out on stage. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He flips back his bangs and makes a short speech about the importance of the orchestra, asking the crowd to support it as much as possible.
Ohmygosh! It's Rochester teen pop idol Teddy Geiger! Talking about the RPO!
He finishes his speech and saunters offstage. A few audience members are whistling and clapping. Others are scratching their heads.
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Maybe WXXI will be part of this partnership in the future.
6:15 p.m. on Friday. Swathed in black velvet and hunched over a small plastic tub of macaroni and cheese, it occurred to me that much of my life revolves around the very High and the very Low, sometimes both at the same time.
It was Friday night, at the end of a crazy-busy day at work. I showered, dressed, and headed back out to the Rochester Early Music Festival.
Until that moment, the whole day had felt stuck on fast forward. Then someone hit the pause button.
Riding the bus last night, I was thinking about Rochester’s Early Music Festival and how to make this Friday night’s event sound exciting in the age of Facebook, Avatar, and Tim Horton’s.
Truth is, I realized, I can’t.
People are drawn to music written before the 18th century for the same reason they like home-brewed beer and hand-stitched books. It’s slow to unfold. It’s a walk down a leaf-strewn path for no other reason than in hopes of glimpsing a flash of feathers. It requires time, patience, and the willingness to park on a hard, wooden bench.
About once a year, a recording seizes my hand and pulls me into a labyrinth. Once there, I want to wander around forever. I spent much of 2006 meandering through a CD called Cloudburst by Polyphony, an English choral group.
I played the song 'Sleep' over and over and over.
The evening hangs beneath the moon
A silver thread on darkened dune
With closing eyes and resting head
I know that sleep is coming soon.