Dear cellophane wrapper guy,

There you were, in the row behind me, or the row behind that, at Abravanel Hall. By the way, do you mind if I refer to you as "guy"? It's possible you were female. But it doesn't really matter, Mr. or Ms. Wrapper: because at the Chinese pianist's recital, during the Andante cantabile con espressione movement (written in 3/4 time) of the Mozart Sonata in A minor, K. 310, you began to disrobe some sort of comestible that apparently came wrapped in the distinct crinkly crackle of cellophane.

I didn't look back to see who you were, or to imply anything, really. I thought to myself, come on. I thought, really? What comestible emergency decrees that one fiddle at some length with a piece of something wrapped in a long-winded piece of cellophane, during the middle of the slow movement of a piano sonata?

And then I thought a compassionate thought. Cough, I thought. Maybe cellophane wrapper guy had a cough, and he tried to suppress it, and in desperation, during the Andante cantabile con espressione movement, he fished a cough drop from his pocket and couldn't unwrap it fast enough. I thought how all of us in that grand, crowded concert hall were occupied with our own humanness, with our little ailments and discomforts, all of us hoping that the music would lift us, enrapture our attentions, make us fly. Poor cellophane wrapper guy. Trying not to cough. We all do our best.

I thought this compassionate thought until the Presto movement began. 2/4 time. Speedy and percussive and spine-tingling, accompanied by the aleatory music of cellophane wrapper guy, opening his second comestible.

I have to tell you, cellophane wrapper guy: I laughed. Not out loud, because it was Mozart, and Abravanel Hall, and because of dignity and all that. I wish I could say I was not amused, but it was just so ridiculous.

I'm sorry you didn't stay for the Chopin Ballades after the intermission, a little sorry at least, and I do hope you feel better soon, if indeed it was a cough that ailed you. I suggest, however, that, in preparation for your next concert-going experience, you practice unwrapping your future cough drops like a ninja. A Mozart-listening, Chopin-respecting ninja.

It's about the music, man,

htms

Grading.

Or, procrastinating?

Last night at the Sufjan Stevens concert, I persisted in believing that I would get up so early! this morning to read midterms. Also, I believed somehow that we might be home at around 10:30 p.m., from a concert that began at 8.

On the way home from the concert:

Me: I think it's hilarious how, after all this time, I still chronically underestimate how much time things actually take.

The historian: Like what?

Me: Like, I thought we might get home from the concert by about 10:30.

Historian: (snickers)

An actual snicker, the people.

Anyway, the Sufjan Stevens concert was amazing. Epic. I wouldn't say that SS's every aesthetic decision was perfect. But I would say that I felt at almost every turn that I was witnessing an artist--not "artist" the way people talk about a pop star as "the artist," but "artist" as in, a person who's making art. The whole thing was immersive--textured and layered with sound, visuals, movement, joy. I could discern antecedents (the Talking Heads of the Stop Making Sense era) and peers (the chameleonic, ever-inventive Beck), but no exact equivalents, and it really was pretty intense--revelatory--to be there.

I also loved that pretty much the whole show was new music, and most of it from the more bracing The Age of Adz rather than the prettier All Delighted People EP--bold, not at all ingratiating. I had previous listened to this music, or at least some of it--it was kind of great to experience it, really, for something like the first time in this way. The music that wasn't from The Age of Adz--"Seven Swans" from Seven Swans, and a four-song set from Illinois ("Chicago," "Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois," "Decatur," and "John Wayne Gacy, Jr.") that concluded the show were a kind of gift--but I felt that the new material really put these songs in a bigger picture--they're great songs, without doubt, but they're not the best SS will ever do.

Well! having thus discharged my responsibility with regard to the review of the concert, and having confessed how yet again I have lied to myself about getting up early, the duration of things, and how much I will realistically accomplish on any given morning, I must do something: read some midterms? grade some online discussions? record a video response to a class discussion? go home and nurse this little cold that is now stalking me? Who can say?

The little idiosyncrasies that give life its je ne sais quoi.

Anyone besides me reveling in the fact that there is a movie, opening soon at multiplexes everywhere, called Death Race, starring both Joan Allen and Jason Statham? Anyone? Because it just makes me smile.

Oh, and also Ian McShane.

*************

Saturday night update: Tonight, we were going to go see Brideshead Revisited, but first drop by my niece's choir concert to hear her sing, then duck out to make a 7:05 showtime. This week has been an international children's music festival, "In Harmony," here in the city of salt. We went on Wednesday to a remembrance concert--the anniversary of the U.S.'s bombing of Hiroshima. There were several Japanese children's choirs, my niece's choir, and a Kenyan children's choir. The concert was so wonderful we decided to go to tonight's, which was the final event of the festival.

Wellll, the concert was long, just as any sensible person would know it would be, but we kept not leaving for the movie because it was also wonderful. When we left after almost three and a half hours of music--singing, dancing, an amazing marching band from Japan, orchestras, and a breathtaking final piece that involved every single performer--the historian said that it had been uplifting, a perfect word for it. Who is willing to spend time helping children learn to play brass instruments, string instruments, dance, sing? Who is willing to help them put together polished performances that they will probably never forget having been a part of? How sweet are children's voices singing together?

I think you all know how I feel about the movies, but I did not regret for one moment spending the evening this way.