Boston Symphony Orchestra and Hall

Today again Neighbor of and I trained into Boston to see the Orchestra, this time an Open Rehearsal. This was a truly marvelous experience for several reasons. The most fun part was that we had to arrive before 9:00 a.m., when the doors opened -- because an Open Rehearsal is general seating, and Neighbor of has a particularly perfect seat that she claims.

This meant the not-so-fun part of the day: leaving the house before 7:00 a.m., to catch the train into the City, and then the subway and a short walk across chill streets (there was a frost last night) to arrive at Symphony Hall at 8:30 a.m. But there, to my great surprise, 30-40 people already stood waiting outside in the cold. Within a few minutes the Hall had opened doors to the lobby, so we continued to stand, but at least it was out of the wind. As we moved inside, Neighbor of slunk around people so she was third in line in front of her particular door into the main Hall. By 9:00 a.m., when the doors to the seats opened, the lobby was entirely filled.

The lobby was entirely filled with people who probably voted for FDR -- the first time he was elected. It was really fun to see a crowd of white-haired old people -- and some of these people were really old -- sharpening their elbows and jockeying for position to make the dash to get the perfect seat in the huge, beautiful, excellently acoustic Boston Symphony Hall. This is the face of "old" that I hope to have -- I might be half-bald, covered in liver spots, and requiring a walker -- but these lovely people were alert and excited and eager to hear the program today.

Neighbor of got her preferred seat: we were in the first seats on the left of the 2nd balcony, actually hanging over the stage. At her insistence, I took the endmost seat, close enough to touch the ornate carvings of the proscenium. Neighbor of says they aren't the best seats for most performances -- you are required to lean forward the whole time if you want to see the performers themselves (although being on the left side of the stage means you are right over the soloist). And the sound hasn't a chance to fully blend -- you get better harmony at the back or halfway up the main floor.

However, it is an excellent spot to watch rehearsal. I didn't take a photograph during (it is against the rules -- these photos are from the 45 minute lecture before the program). We could hear the conductor speaking to the musicians, although I couldn't quite make out the words. You could see the musical scores they were following -- incomprehensible to me, of course, who hasn't seen a score since chorus in middle school.

The program in tomorrow's formal performance will be Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D, followed by Mahler's 4th Symphony in G. They practiced the pieces in the opposite order -- the Mahler first, then Beethoven. I think that's because the Mahler needed more work. Not that I heard anything wrong (and from the reaction of the almost full house, they didn't either). Even so, after each movement the conductor would make a few comments and then they would replay a bit. At least, on the Mahler. The Beethoven had no public comments (although I saw him take aside the first violinist at the end, but that might just have been arranging drinks after the show tomorrow).

At the end of the Mahler, he took them back again to the third movement and spent quite a while with the violas on one particular passage, where the violas, the lead cello, and the violins seemed to be handing the theme back and forth. At least, I hypothesize that, based on a muted but animated discussion between the 4 violas and the cello, with a few interjections by the violins.

I am not sophisticated enough to be able to tell you what was happening musically. It all sounded marvelous. That is, except for this: the conductor had them play the same bit again and again. At one point, his voice rose clearly up to us, saying, with a laugh, "That [last play-through] was wonderful. However, I think you can do it even more wonderfully." And they played the same passage one last time, and, this time, something struck - something about how the cello faded out, leaving only the violas to carry the notes forward, and it was as if all the ions in the air in the auditorium switched polarization at that moment. They finished the measure, the conductor nodded, and rehearsal (of that piece) was over. A magical moment.