Walking through the kitchen, I caught the light behind the orchid, lighting the blossom so beautifully:
I have not been writing about the South Mountain Concerts performances we have been attending every Sunday. I feel I have no constructive or interesting criticism or insights, just mindless adoring blather about how much I have enjoyed the concerts and the musicians. Needless to say September Sundays are a joy that I look forward to throughout the year.
This Sunday however was entirely special. The piano quartet, Opus One, was spectacular the performances of the Mozart Quartet in G minor and the Schubert Trout Quintet were both wonderful. But these were not the high points of a spectacular performance, which came in the middle of the concert with the performance of the “Piano Quartet No. 3" by George Tsontakis. This piece absolutely blew me away. It was an intense piece, densely packed with themes and musical ideas, yet there was a flow and a sequence to it that the mind could follow and retain. The ear could follow the progression of the music and almost anticipate what might come next, or at least be prepared for what might come. There were melodic vignettes and moments that stayed in the mind, to be hummed or relived later, something that cannot always be said of some modern composers. I was entranced. The piece was a times fierce, perhaps barren (as the first movement is titled), despairing, desolate, uplifting, tender, heart-rending, sweet and disconsolate. I was literally at the edge of my seat.
I am not the most sophisticated listener of music and I have never heard pieces by Tsontakis before. You can be sure I will seek out his music in the future as this is something that absolutely need in my life. I think it is rare that I have heard music that has really touched me so deeply and profoundly. I must admit that my heart was all aflutter for some time afterwards and I babbled like a giddy schoolgirl.
It struck me that we often discuss modern music and how the ear might need to listen to something new a few times before it begins to appreciate the quality of what is being heard. I have subscribed to this theory as well, sometimes giving things more than an adequate chance to worm their way into my affections. Perhaps the ho-hum is simply that, ho-hum, and the great is there waiting to strike you if only you are willing to listen.