Sanctuary Of Random Keystrokes

[The events in this post took place on the 13th but I finished writing it today just as Azerbaijan were crowned the Eurovision song contest winners.]

In the elevator ran into someone who looked like a cross between Alfred Brendel and Woody Allen and had their combined age. I wondered if I’ll ever hear Brendel perform live (the concert page on his site is empty and the copyright date on the footer is 3 years old).

Decided to go home to drop my laptop backpack. Was missing those street musicians at Centraal just yesterday. Theres always the usual hubbub of people in a hurry at a busy station and theres trams ringing their “ding-ding-ding” bells, yet it had still felt eerily quiet without them. Seeing them today was life affirming. Smiled at the clarinetist and left them some pocket change. Must do it more often. On a vaguely related note, the tram bell always reminds me of The Beatles’ Penny Lane (seek to about 1:06 to figure why, or, listen to the extract below).

It was a mad dash to Concertgebouw. Presented my ticket outside the Great Hall where they were performing Mahler (lots of Mahler these days – his 100th death anniversary is on the 18th) and was politely pointed to the Kleine Zaal (Small Hall) where the String Quartet recital was.

D’Amici started with Haydn’s Op. 77. I have a beautiful recording of this work by L’Archibudelli playing on period instruments. It sounds a lot different live.

They followed it up with the work that I was really here for – Beethoven’s last (well almost) String Quartet – Op. 135 and I wasn’t let down. I am no musician, but the 2nd movement of this quartet must be one of the most difficult thing to play in the entire String Quartet repertoire. During the 1st movement, tears were rolling down my eyes, but during the 2nd, I wanted to get up and dance.

During the break I tried to memorize the names of all the composers on the plaques above each door (to my left Bach, then Haydn, followed by Beethoven (that’s where the musicians sat), Mozart, the two Schus- Schuman and Schubert spelt in the classical form Schvbert, Schvmann). A brilliant performance of Debussy’s String Quartet in G-minor ended with a long, rapturous applause. D’Amici returned it with an encore. The first violinist whispered ‘some more Haydn’ to the crowd and the quartet played the last moment of Haydn’s ‘The Joke’ quartet.

There’s a technically detailed explanation on Wikipedia to let you in on the joke but in brief (hear hear):

The movement begins with a lively theme. As it nears completion theres a short pause and then it resumes again. This goes on till the pauses become so long that the audience begins to wonder if the piece has finished already. But no it hasn’t and the quartet begins playing again. This happens a few times till everyone is chuckling.

I found the choice of works by D’Amici for this recital interesting. Each work here is the last completed String Quartet by the respective composer and each one is considered a bridge on to the next one. I wonder what it must feel like to have roughly 100 years of music (Haydn’s Op. 77: 1799, Beethoven’s Op. 135: 1826, Debussy’s Op. 10: 1893) placed before your eyes. I sure feel lucky to be able to listen to hundreds of years of musical evolution in one sitting.

Came out sporting a cheek-to-cheek smile to my wife waiting patiently outside and we went for an Italian dinner. I told her on the way about how badly I had wanted to hire a String Quartet for our wedding. Better sense prevailed, but I did manage to sneak in the first movement from The Joke on the CD that played at our wedding.

I also kept gushing about how beautiful it is to *see* a String Quartet perform. There is this anecdote about Cleveland Quartet (disbanded in 1995 so theres no way I am getting to see them live), where they were once presented with a “cuddly velvet Octopus” named Mr. Cleveland by a little girl. Her reasoning was immaculate – a String Quartet is like an Octopus – “one head, one heart and eight hands that work together perfectly”. The wife, I am sure now, refuses to believe that a String Quartet is a beautiful thing to *see*. That we spotted the following on our table mat while battling our thin-crust pizza at the Italian restaurant won’t help my cause:

[Updated 22 May with a scan of my Concertgebouw ticket and an extract from Penny Lane]

Ever since I heard the recording of Mahler’s 3rd symphony by The Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Riccardo Chailley at The Concertgebouw, I’ve wanted to experience a large symphonic work live there. Attending a performance at The Concertgebouw was therefore a big part of our recent Amsterdam visit.

My wife and I reached there in the noon and fished out their concert catalogue from hundreds of colourful brouchures placed in a rack near the ticket counter. While the catalogue was in Dutch, western classical music is a language almost as universal as science or mathematics and we had no difficulting figuring that a performance of Beethoven’s 2nd and 3rd symphonies by Chamber Orchestra of Europe conducted by Bernard Haitink was scheduled that very evening. The price of the ticket [€ 46 for the most basic seat] almost gave me a pause. The fact that my wife isn’t a western classical aficionado and therefore finds it extremely hard to part with that kind of money for a live concert didn’t make it easier. Better sense prevailed and it was decided that I was to attend it alone.

I went to the ticket counter and enquired about the program. To my surprise, the lady at the counter told us that the Beethoven concert had already happend yesterday and tonight they only had a Lizt/Chopin recital. I frantically started turning through the pages of the catalogue to locate the schedule for that night but before I could get there, a young, bespectacled gentleman (who reminded me a lot of Bill Gates of 20 years ago) standing at the adjacent counter intervened and informed the lady that indeed the Beethoven concert was scheduled for tonight because he was playing in the orchestra! He was there to get tickets for the afternoon concert which we gladly let him pick from our counter.

At The Concertgebouw, people under 30 (‘young people’) get a discount on western classical concert tickets. The ticket counter lady asked me if I was under 30. Before I could answer, she looked up at my face for 5 seconds and shook her head dismissively – ‘nah you are not’. I must investigate what gave it away – whether it is those grey strands of hair that have begun to appear in my sideburns or if it was my grizzled weekend look. Having thus secured what must have been the most expensive concert ticket of my life, I went back to the hotel and started waiting for my encounter with Beethoven.

A great thing about the concert ticket was that it entitled me to a free ride in a tram to and from The Concertgebouw and a complimentary drink once I reached there. I was as nervous as I am before catching a flight and reached The Concertgebouw some 30 minutes before the performance. A lot of people had already started queuing outside the entrance to the main concert hall. While most people were dressed in their best formal attire, I was in my jeans, sneakers and a jacket that even I consider a little on the dowdy side. I must’ve looked like a tramp who had found a ticket on the road and had sauntered in to stay warm. I might sound a little crazy but it was my personal tribute to the man whose music we were all there to experiene. Beethoven was notorious for his unkempt, slovenly appearnce and his biographies are littered with various anecdotes that allude to it.

My seat was right at the bottom of the elevated stage where the orchestra performs. From where I sat, I would have barely any view of the orchestra – may be half the violin section, a couple of bassists and the conductor. But then I was a here for the acoustics not for the views. In front of me was one of the doors from where half the members of the orchestra would come out and climb up the stage. I could hear random snatches of violins being tuned.

What followed is impossible to put down in words. Both the symphonies were beautifully performed and all that I had read about acoustics of The Concertgebouw was every bit true and then some more. All I can say is that those CDs will always sound like an inferior imitation of the real.

The average age of the audience must be 65 or more. This being a cold and rainy January, every one had some kind of minor flu. People would sit tight during the performance but each time the orchestra would pause for a short break between two movements a wave of coughing would break out throughout the hall. The orchestra would wait for it to subside somewhat and then begin – at which point the music will take over again. The orchestra (with the notable exception of conductor Haitink) was relatively young but clearly everyone had a solid mastery of their craft. And yes, our saviour at the ticket counter this afternoon was a violinist.