Props to my brother for giving me the subject line of this entry when I told him I was going to the opening concert of the International Bach Festival.
It was pretty lovely. Bach gets talked up and knocked down for being really something or other. I think 'mathematical' was an adjective someone trotted out once. I don't know enough about music theory to understand that choice of words; anyways as far as I'm concerned anybody who has bad things to say about Bach can tell them to my ass as I walk out the door. He might not be my favourite composer but five minutes with that beautiful music should be able knit the most cynical and untidy soul up into a reasonable semblance of humanity. It seems like every note absolutely HAD to follow the one before it in exactly the way that it happened but you never could have predicted it the first time you heard it, like following the course of a brook or biting into your very first heaping forkful of tiramisu or something.
For some reason I am too obtuse to figure out, the opening concert of the International Bach Festival featured a Vivaldi allegro, some Alban Berg violin concerto that gave me a headache (I'd rather listen to a streetcar taking a five-minute corner than an atonal violin solo), and only one peice by Bach; a concerto with four pianos which was crazy good. So funny to hear all those pianos playing together like that. Piano players are hot. Most other instruments require some sort of ungainly posture or puffy cheeks or something, but piano players look good up there while they're givin'er.
Speaking of which, after reading over my last post I think I should point out that part of my deal with Escamillo is that in the production I saw Thursday he was played by filthy hot Polish-Brazilian baritone Paolo Szot. Watch for him on Bravo, singing his way into the hearts of thousands of ladies and gentlemen of a certain persuasion and hopefully getting them back into thier respective opera-house seats. Also in the links section you'll find an Italian site with a list of his 2005/2006 roles, which mostly seem to be in the lucky, lucky country of France. Stupid France. I'm by no means dismayed to have the opportunity to gawk at that combination of hotness and voice (any baritone is at least a little hot as soon as he opens his mouth) when I see Carmen again next Friday with the divine Miss C. No photo, but here's one of Michaelangelo's David to communicate a bit of his hottitude.