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I carried. All the things. Down the stairs. And put them in the car. Well, I guess Brent carried one amp, the bass and the keyboard. Which, sure, was helpful. But probably didn't lessen my fatigue by much. My room is absolutely empty except for this air mattress and pillows. I even vacuumed the floor. I also vacuumed the upstairs landing and all the stairs, and scrubbed the bathroom and wiped all its surfaces. But mostly, the carrying was what killed me, when they ask. All that's left is my suitcase, my mom's, one small one left to put the blankets and air mattress in, my trash can, and the bike (it goes on top of the car).
Mama and I took the train to school after I finished packing, and when I called to ask, the audio/visual guys were nice enough to put my recital recording in my mailbox instead of leaving it in the locked office. So I have that, and I also went to get some NEC orchestral recordings from Firestone because I was thinking about the Rach Symphonic Dances after we had glee over them last night. Brent met us in Firestone and we listened to the Led Zeppelin he did on my recital, and he freaked out about how good it was. He even flailed a little. Validated!
And then it was King's Singers time. Seriously.
Our tickets were for the last row of the balcony, which is not bad, there are no bad seats in Jordan Hall, but we snuck clandestinely down to the front row of the balcony instead so we could lean on the velvet railing. We kept looking nervously at the door when people came in to see if they had tickets in our spot, I was afraid the ushers were going to kick us out for spot-poaching, but the ushers were all friends of mine and nobody cared that much anyway. An old couple did come in about a third of the way through the first set, but they just sat behind us and didn't even want the front when we moved at intermission. I talked to them a bit; this was their first time seeing the King's Singers live, so I explained that no, this was not a subdivision of a larger group, it was just these 6 guys, and they're the best in the world. :)
And of course they were. Even Brent was enchanted. He has a hard time relaxing at concerts (he doesn't like to go to them, just to play them), but he was melted into his chair by the end of the first piece.
It was an all-Renaissance concert, because it was for the Boston Early Music Festival, but, as I was explaining to Brent on the way back, they can even make all those V-I ornamented ending cadences sound unique and fresh each time with dynamic and timbral variation. I will print the program here for your enlightenment:
Eran ninfe e pastori, Striggio
Sing, shepherds all, Nicolson
Un giorno a Pale sacro, Baccusi
Hence stars, too dim of light, East
Se cantano gl'augelli, Gabrieli
Come, blessed bird, Johnson
Vaghe ninfe selvagge, de Macque
Come gentle swains, Cavendish
Ove tra l'erbe i fiori, Croce
Hard by a crystal fountain, Morley
Al mormora de liquidi cristalli, Gastoldi
Long live fair Oriana, Ellis Gibbons
Quando dal terzo cielo, Palestrina
As Vesta was from Latmos hill descending, Weelkes
intermission
Les cris de Paris, Janequin
Paisible domaine, Lassus
Petite camusette, Josquin
Baisez moy, Josquin
Allégez moy, Josquin
Scaramella, Josquin
Dessus le marché d'Arras, Lassus
La Guerre, Janequin
and, for encore
Il gioco di Primiera, Striggio, which they staged and actually played cards. Poor Jonny didn't get to play, as he explained, because he was the new guy.
Globe did a review, but you know, I have to stick with being melted. I was worried about Johnny's being able to replace the nigh-unreplaceable Stephen, but he was adequately awesome, if not as obviously audible. When we moved at intermission to the other side of the balcony, he was pointed at us, and it was still such a subtle blend that his timbre was nearly undifferentiable, so I had to listen entirely on the basis of register (not that that's a terrible thing, just different). In any case, an entire concert of Renaissance rep could have been a bit tedious, but for the immense artistry and sonic butter of these virtuosi.
We stayed after to pay our respects and learn the perspectives of the new guys, and it was so odd to walk down the hall of my school to the door of the green room where I'd spent so much time chilling during and before concerts and dawdling after concerts. Paul was out first, and signed our program graciously, though he moved efficiently down the line. Chris spent quite awhile chatting, and remembered us after we reminded him of the London lymphoedema concert (Brent introduced himself as my roommate, as though I were a well-known member of elite musical circles). We talked about temperaments and the claim on the Sacred Bridges album cover, that "the Turkish play in every temperament known to man", and that the King's Singers intuit just intonation rather than being analytical about it, and I explained a little about what I'd studied regarding temperaments, especially at NEC.
Tim was next to wander by, and I told him I'd never seen him live before and congratulated him on living up to my King's Singers expectations, which I then justified by explaining I've been a fanatic since, basically birth. He was amusedly impressed when I trotted out my old proof of the depth of my a cappella immersion, the fact that I learned the Beatles songs on the KS Beatles album from that album and heard the originals later. I was curious about how long they'd had to prepare this particular concert, which he seemed to think could have used more time (though Philip later said they'd had ages of notice, it's just fitting things in that's the trouble). We asked him the name of the encore, so I could look it up (and though I did, of course no one else's performance is going to be anywhere near that level), and also if they'd actually been playing cards (they had). He discussed life adjusting and reacting to membership in the group, and seemed overall to be a lovely, together and interesting guy.
We made sure to accost Johnny, the new bass, to congratulate him on his awesomeness. I told him about my worries regarding replacing Stephen, and how well he relieved them, and he was humbly gracious. He's still reeling from the new gig, though it's been more than half a year. He kept thanking me for saying he filled Stephen's shoes, and gushed with his own still-slightly-gangly young enthusiasm. Man, imagine getting that kind of gig right out of school. When mama and I were engaged with Philip, Brent talked to Johnny separately for awhile, and said his gaydar was seriously pinged (I hadn't noticed, but if he did indeed tell Brent to facebook him, that's a pretty good gauge).
Philip was amiable and conversant once he remembered us (and again Brent introduced himself as though we were rockstars). We talked about the relative merits of Jordan Hall and Stude Hall and cathedrals, and the conservatory itself. I mentioned to him, as I had to Tim and Johnny, that Stephen's Exeter session this year had been canceled. He was sorry to hear about it, and ask why; I told him all I knew, that there was possible underenrollment and not enough deposits made, and about my tuition/assistantship offer right before the cancellation announcement, and he hypothesized that teaching at a ladies' college made Stephen busier than he'd expected. We didn't spend long talking to David, since he was a bit elusive and it was late by the time he was available (and the rest of the boys were off across the street for a well-deserved post-concert Uno's hang), but we reintroduced ourselves and chatted a bit, reiterated the concerns about Stephen's workshop, and Brent complimented him on his "angelic" voice (I smirked a bit). It certainly was a typically amazing King's Singers experience, and I can't wait till the next one.
Once back at the apartment, Tony selflessly heaved some knots out of my back even though I couldn't reciprocate due to straining my wrist during the travails of that day's carrying things down stairs. We ate ice cream, talked a bit, and retreated due to the lateness of the hour and the drive in the morning. But of course there was one thing left: a last Stargate session, if we could make it through. My room certainly is empty. Brent snuggled so comfortably on my conspicuously singular air mattress that he started snoring gently, halfway through the episode, and would have stayed but that I need to sleep super-soundly in order to be thoroughly awake to drive. So he bundled his quilt off with him when he left for his room.
Mama and I took the train to school after I finished packing, and when I called to ask, the audio/visual guys were nice enough to put my recital recording in my mailbox instead of leaving it in the locked office. So I have that, and I also went to get some NEC orchestral recordings from Firestone because I was thinking about the Rach Symphonic Dances after we had glee over them last night. Brent met us in Firestone and we listened to the Led Zeppelin he did on my recital, and he freaked out about how good it was. He even flailed a little. Validated!
And then it was King's Singers time. Seriously.
Our tickets were for the last row of the balcony, which is not bad, there are no bad seats in Jordan Hall, but we snuck clandestinely down to the front row of the balcony instead so we could lean on the velvet railing. We kept looking nervously at the door when people came in to see if they had tickets in our spot, I was afraid the ushers were going to kick us out for spot-poaching, but the ushers were all friends of mine and nobody cared that much anyway. An old couple did come in about a third of the way through the first set, but they just sat behind us and didn't even want the front when we moved at intermission. I talked to them a bit; this was their first time seeing the King's Singers live, so I explained that no, this was not a subdivision of a larger group, it was just these 6 guys, and they're the best in the world. :)
And of course they were. Even Brent was enchanted. He has a hard time relaxing at concerts (he doesn't like to go to them, just to play them), but he was melted into his chair by the end of the first piece.
It was an all-Renaissance concert, because it was for the Boston Early Music Festival, but, as I was explaining to Brent on the way back, they can even make all those V-I ornamented ending cadences sound unique and fresh each time with dynamic and timbral variation. I will print the program here for your enlightenment:
Eran ninfe e pastori, Striggio
Sing, shepherds all, Nicolson
Un giorno a Pale sacro, Baccusi
Hence stars, too dim of light, East
Se cantano gl'augelli, Gabrieli
Come, blessed bird, Johnson
Vaghe ninfe selvagge, de Macque
Come gentle swains, Cavendish
Ove tra l'erbe i fiori, Croce
Hard by a crystal fountain, Morley
Al mormora de liquidi cristalli, Gastoldi
Long live fair Oriana, Ellis Gibbons
Quando dal terzo cielo, Palestrina
As Vesta was from Latmos hill descending, Weelkes
intermission
Les cris de Paris, Janequin
Paisible domaine, Lassus
Petite camusette, Josquin
Baisez moy, Josquin
Allégez moy, Josquin
Scaramella, Josquin
Dessus le marché d'Arras, Lassus
La Guerre, Janequin
and, for encore
Il gioco di Primiera, Striggio, which they staged and actually played cards. Poor Jonny didn't get to play, as he explained, because he was the new guy.
Globe did a review, but you know, I have to stick with being melted. I was worried about Johnny's being able to replace the nigh-unreplaceable Stephen, but he was adequately awesome, if not as obviously audible. When we moved at intermission to the other side of the balcony, he was pointed at us, and it was still such a subtle blend that his timbre was nearly undifferentiable, so I had to listen entirely on the basis of register (not that that's a terrible thing, just different). In any case, an entire concert of Renaissance rep could have been a bit tedious, but for the immense artistry and sonic butter of these virtuosi.
We stayed after to pay our respects and learn the perspectives of the new guys, and it was so odd to walk down the hall of my school to the door of the green room where I'd spent so much time chilling during and before concerts and dawdling after concerts. Paul was out first, and signed our program graciously, though he moved efficiently down the line. Chris spent quite awhile chatting, and remembered us after we reminded him of the London lymphoedema concert (Brent introduced himself as my roommate, as though I were a well-known member of elite musical circles). We talked about temperaments and the claim on the Sacred Bridges album cover, that "the Turkish play in every temperament known to man", and that the King's Singers intuit just intonation rather than being analytical about it, and I explained a little about what I'd studied regarding temperaments, especially at NEC.
Tim was next to wander by, and I told him I'd never seen him live before and congratulated him on living up to my King's Singers expectations, which I then justified by explaining I've been a fanatic since, basically birth. He was amusedly impressed when I trotted out my old proof of the depth of my a cappella immersion, the fact that I learned the Beatles songs on the KS Beatles album from that album and heard the originals later. I was curious about how long they'd had to prepare this particular concert, which he seemed to think could have used more time (though Philip later said they'd had ages of notice, it's just fitting things in that's the trouble). We asked him the name of the encore, so I could look it up (and though I did, of course no one else's performance is going to be anywhere near that level), and also if they'd actually been playing cards (they had). He discussed life adjusting and reacting to membership in the group, and seemed overall to be a lovely, together and interesting guy.
We made sure to accost Johnny, the new bass, to congratulate him on his awesomeness. I told him about my worries regarding replacing Stephen, and how well he relieved them, and he was humbly gracious. He's still reeling from the new gig, though it's been more than half a year. He kept thanking me for saying he filled Stephen's shoes, and gushed with his own still-slightly-gangly young enthusiasm. Man, imagine getting that kind of gig right out of school. When mama and I were engaged with Philip, Brent talked to Johnny separately for awhile, and said his gaydar was seriously pinged (I hadn't noticed, but if he did indeed tell Brent to facebook him, that's a pretty good gauge).
Philip was amiable and conversant once he remembered us (and again Brent introduced himself as though we were rockstars). We talked about the relative merits of Jordan Hall and Stude Hall and cathedrals, and the conservatory itself. I mentioned to him, as I had to Tim and Johnny, that Stephen's Exeter session this year had been canceled. He was sorry to hear about it, and ask why; I told him all I knew, that there was possible underenrollment and not enough deposits made, and about my tuition/assistantship offer right before the cancellation announcement, and he hypothesized that teaching at a ladies' college made Stephen busier than he'd expected. We didn't spend long talking to David, since he was a bit elusive and it was late by the time he was available (and the rest of the boys were off across the street for a well-deserved post-concert Uno's hang), but we reintroduced ourselves and chatted a bit, reiterated the concerns about Stephen's workshop, and Brent complimented him on his "angelic" voice (I smirked a bit). It certainly was a typically amazing King's Singers experience, and I can't wait till the next one.
Once back at the apartment, Tony selflessly heaved some knots out of my back even though I couldn't reciprocate due to straining my wrist during the travails of that day's carrying things down stairs. We ate ice cream, talked a bit, and retreated due to the lateness of the hour and the drive in the morning. But of course there was one thing left: a last Stargate session, if we could make it through. My room certainly is empty. Brent snuggled so comfortably on my conspicuously singular air mattress that he started snoring gently, halfway through the episode, and would have stayed but that I need to sleep super-soundly in order to be thoroughly awake to drive. So he bundled his quilt off with him when he left for his room.