Oct 22, 2011
2 Feedback Comments
Something happened during tonight’s show.
Something which doesn’t happen every time we go on stage. Something which, for me at least, might only truly happen a few times a season.Towards the end of the slow movement of Elgar’s autumnal epic Violin Concerto, I felt that special sensation of time stopping, of the music taking me, and everyone else in the hall to places far removed from Bedford St. That strangely contradictory state of a very personal response, within a collective experience. Just occasionally, music can be so perfectly conceived, and so ideally delivered, that mere observations of skill, individual technique, and interpretation become meaningless. We become part of that great shared transcendence that music allows us. Just for a few moments, we leave everything behind us. Not in a Classic FM–music–as–tranquiliser type way, rather active than passive, as we experience together something beyond the quotidian.
The great American trumpet player, Wynton Marsalis, talks often of how music “brushes the dust of the day from our shoes”. Just sometimes, it can achieve much more than even that.
Principal Trumpet No. 2