I went to see Beethoven's Ninth Symphony in concert tonight and had anticipated it with great excitement. Joy. First time for me. Cleveland Orchestra. Major orchestra. Really looked forward to it.
The orchestra, which did look a little spare based on my expectation was seated when CCC and I walked in. The violin soloist walked in to applause...violin soloist? Eh, what did I know. The Conductor, Giancarlo Guerrero, who did a brilliant job in the end, came out and introduced a genu-ine fat lady, Elizabeth DeShong, dressed in a glorious red gown that depleted the supply of red gown material in Cleveland and environs I was sure. Where were the other singers? The Ninth requires a full choir, Ms. Deshong was full but did not constitute a choir. These were unexpected and confused me. Then Mr. Guerrero introduced the evening's program. With a saccharin sweet voice he explained that we would hear the Nerudo Songs by Peter Lieberson. "Why is he talking about this?" I whispered to Carmen, thinking it was a coming attraction. We checked our tickets. Beethoven's "Nine," that's all it said, that's all I expected and all I paid for. Instead the fat lady began singing:
"Si mo fueta porque tus ojos tienen
color de luna...oh, bienada, yo no te amaria!
And like that for five syrupy songs and 25 minutes.
Then the Beethoven. Mr. Guerrero was magnificent directing the Cleveland. He jumped, rode the horse to that particular sequence and communicated intense, playful energy to his musicians and his audience, both of whom fed off him and reciprocated. And I didn't get arrested or even kicked out for my f-bomb rant during intermission before the real deal started. So, successful night.
The orchestra, which did look a little spare based on my expectation was seated when CCC and I walked in. The violin soloist walked in to applause...violin soloist? Eh, what did I know. The Conductor, Giancarlo Guerrero, who did a brilliant job in the end, came out and introduced a genu-ine fat lady, Elizabeth DeShong, dressed in a glorious red gown that depleted the supply of red gown material in Cleveland and environs I was sure. Where were the other singers? The Ninth requires a full choir, Ms. Deshong was full but did not constitute a choir. These were unexpected and confused me. Then Mr. Guerrero introduced the evening's program. With a saccharin sweet voice he explained that we would hear the Nerudo Songs by Peter Lieberson. "Why is he talking about this?" I whispered to Carmen, thinking it was a coming attraction. We checked our tickets. Beethoven's "Nine," that's all it said, that's all I expected and all I paid for. Instead the fat lady began singing:
"Si mo fueta porque tus ojos tienen
color de luna...oh, bienada, yo no te amaria!
And like that for five syrupy songs and 25 minutes.
Then the Beethoven. Mr. Guerrero was magnificent directing the Cleveland. He jumped, rode the horse to that particular sequence and communicated intense, playful energy to his musicians and his audience, both of whom fed off him and reciprocated. And I didn't get arrested or even kicked out for my f-bomb rant during intermission before the real deal started. So, successful night.
