(no subject)

[sanura]

I don't know what it is about PVA orchestra concerts. They're not technically spectacular, they're not the most precise or exact... But Dr. Evans chooses repertoire that at first seems slightly out of reach of the orchestra's capability, but that they manage to pull together in what has been deemed the "PVA curve," the night of the concert. And whether the individual players intend it or not, the ensemble comes across as playing with complete heartfelt abandon. The rehearsals (of which for this concert I have been to nearly every one) are not like that. It is not an adrenaline-inducing experience (aside from any adrenaline induction inherent in the piece, which may be considerable, because of the exquisite repertoire Dr. Evans picks) to listen to a PVA Symphony rehearsal, but a concert is a different matter. And it is not just the general concert experience. I don't get the same audience-high coming out of an HSO concert, unless it's a piece I'm deeply personally involved in. PVA concerts _make_ me involved in the pieces they play.

So, the concert. Weber was so familiar I felt like I was singing it... I mean, not really, but I knew it from the inside in a way I can't imagine knowing it from playing just one part. Conducting a piece really gives insight into it. Creston was excitingly unfamiliar, as I had been to the least amount of rehearsals for it. Drew is a god of malleted keyboard percussion. Dvorak was... glmrphh. I actually put my hand on my heart and sighed when Christian sat down, in anticipation. And despite the insignificant ensemble flaws, I felt the same way when it was over. I need that piece. I was one of a handful who spontaneously stood for Christian's ovation... more stood for his second curtaincall, but I don't even care, because that's how much I loved the piece, his playing, and the way Dr. Evans led everyone.

So, the Rachmaninov.

There is no exclamation for my emotion. I could squee, and that would not be it. I was reminded recently of a helpless expression of pleasure which kind of describes the state I am in... toddler fists, which one makes when there are no words and no gestures to encompass the thought. So instead, I grin like an idiot and withhold all attempts at releasing whatever insufficient gestures I could make. And I was right, it quotes from the Alliluiya in Vespers. And apparently Rach wrote a Requiem, and it quotes directly from the Dies Irae. We are so getting that.

The ritard on the V-I. The sax solo. The winds waving. The gong.

I shall die now. At least there is no guilt for not practicing and playing the best I could for Dr. Evans like he deserves. There's nothing else I could have done to make the concert better, but it is over, and I didn't play.

It is really, really, really weird not to have any homework or finals. I have nothing to worry about. So I'm worrying about Reggie's instead.