Culturing Kyle

I got to be significantly out of my element again today. The opportunity/need to attend an orchestral concert proved to be an interesting one. In my music history class, we're required to write concert reports about two shows we personally attend. I was planning on going with Fenton, since he used to be an orchestra kid, but he bailed and so I was left on my own, a fish in the sophisticated sharks' waters of the classical music scene. I dressed and looked the part, in one of two semi-nice shirts I have here, and headed out.

Pretty quickly, when you're in a "high society" event, you realize how little you know about the procedure. I thought the performance started three times before it actually did, and thought the end of the fourth movement of the first song was the end of the concert. I understood the whole movement thing, but I didn't know the symphony actually stops and pauses before changing between them.

The first song was a Haydn piece (one of my least favorite composers that I've learned about this year), but I remained attentive and took a few one word notes to help me with my report. Believing the end of the first symphony to be intermission, I started to doze, awaking to find a new conductor bowing to us, and the beginning of the second song. This next piece was Schubert, who I like well enough, but I had already been lulled into a doze by some sort of evil enchantment, possibly Dumbledore's Bewitched Sleep. I probably ended up enjoying this symphony the most, but only because it gave me beautifully vibrant images in my daydream that sought to match the music. It was quite an experience; I assume it would be comparable to drug-induced hallucinations. I'll just say there were a lot of fairies among trees and a dragon, whose eyes ended up being too exceptionally well-lit music sheets when I fully opened my eyes.

At the real intermission, I considered leaving, because our class hadn't studied the next two modern composers, but I decided to stay. The third symphony seemed to encapsulate every sentiment of The Great Gatsby, so I went with that. I swear it could have been the extended soundtrack. Finally, before the last song, I really was going to leave, as the resident violin virtuoso had left the stage and that enchantment seemed to be on its way back. That was until I saw the harp appear. Nothing more needs be said. I could sit through an 8-hour badminton tournament if a harpist was placed by the net. I couldn't even tell you anything about the song except there were a loud of loud noises that distracted from the beauty of the harp.

And that is Kyle's most basic thoughts on his first classical concert. If I wrote more, it would only be about the little quirks of all the individual performers, the crazy composers, and the annoying people that sat by me. It's probably best if I simply leave it at, I love harps.