Notes on a Concert

Ever since my husband, Peter, died, almost twenty years ago, I have attended fewer and fewer concerts. We used to have season tickets to the Philadelphia Orchestra, the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society, the Guitar Society–of course–and some smaller organizations such as Tempesta di Mare, Philadelphia Baroque Orchestra and Piffaro, The Renaissance Band. I donated some of Peter’s guitars to these last two organizations, since they use period instruments in their repertoire. He also loved opera and would escape to the Met in New York City alone, since I wasn’t a fan, or listen to operas blasting all over our home. I feel guilty now because I have discovered the Metropolitan Opera Simulcasts and I don’t miss many performances, particularly if it’s a new piece, like The Hours by Kevin Puts (2022), or a new interpretation of a classic, say Carmen staged in America instead of 19^th century Spain. I wonder what Peter would think of these changes.

The Kimmel Center has changed too. Now there are restaurants inside and out; fancy ones like Volvér (no accent needed, BTW) or small-scale like Garcés’ casual bar where the ticket office used to be. All kinds of activities take place in the interior court now, just like Milan’s Piazza del Duomo, as its architect Rafael Viñoly, meant it to be. Huge screens announce the programs outside on Broad and Spruce Streets and its Verizon Hall has changed its name to Marian Anderson Hall in honor of the legendary contralto, Civil Rights Icon and Philadelphian. Peter would have liked that.

I went with Cirel, a dear friend and neighbor from when we lived in our townhouse, to a recent concert of the Philadelphia Chamber Music Society. It was the much anticipated, all Schubert, four hands piano concert with Mitsuko Uchida and Jonathan Biss to be repeated at Carnegie Hall on Aril 9^th. I’ll leave Richard Brody in his review in The New Yorker to say this: “One thing that can make good piano playing so spellbinding is the auditory spectacle of an artist conversation with themselves: left hand teases right, right wanders off, left interrupts and the two play on together. In a duet, that conversation is between two pianists, playing shoulder to shoulder at the same eighty-eight keys. Schubert, whose greatest pleasure was to make music with his friends, wrote more than sixty duets” (April 8, 2024). Peter would have loved this concert.

The hall was full, the concert had been sold out for months. My mind wandered. I remember the Schubertiades that Peter organized in our own living room with sopranos and printed invitations, although he was already counting the months he had left to live, let alone play the guitar. He has missed so many concerts. He didn’t even know our new orchestra conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

For me the spectacle was also visual beyond the four hands on the piano. I had never seen so many people with gray hair at a concert–including mine,of course. I recognized old friends like Saint Joseph’s dean, Vincent McCarthy and Israel Burshatin, a professor at Haverford College. But they didn’t recognize me and I had the feeling that it wasn’t just my hair color. How would Peter look with silver hair? That’s one of the few advantages of dying at 56, he has stayed young forever. He hasn’t aged at all.

I read in the Uchida / Biss program notes that: “The longer one lives with Schubert, the more moving and, paradoxically, the more unfathomable he becomes. It is his lyricism—sublime, simple, seemingly effortless—that first captures the ear and the heart.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 15th, 2024 at 11:11 am by conchaalborg and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.