Birthday presents

I have lived in Los Angeles for nearly 4 1/2 years and have never been to the Hollywood Bowl or to the Walt Disney Concert Hall. For a girl who lived and breathed music for a good chunk of her life as a certified band geek, that's a long time. I did park in the parking garage of the Concert Hall and eat in the cafe when I had jury duty, but I don't think that counts.

So for my birthday, my dad got me two tickets to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic play Dvorak's 9th Symphony "From the New World," a truly generous and thoughtful gift. And it was a spectacular evening. From the free parking spot a block from the concert hall to the older woman I sat next to (I love making new friends). The architecture of the concert hall (designed by Frank Gehry) is truly one of a kind. The exterior is juxtaposed waves of brushed metal. The lobbies have sweeping spaces with bright colors and warm woods as staircases cascade between the levels.

The actual concert space was warm and curved and quite a lot like a womb, which, I suppose is appropriate when celebrating one's birth. Golden wood curved around all sides of the stage and ceiling. Colored light reflected off the open spaces of the walls making it even more cozy. And what is truly unique about this space is the seating all the way around the orchestra. You can literally stare the conductor in the face and read the notes off the timpani player’s stand.

And this was my level of enjoyment before any notes were played! But let me assure you, the notes that were played were spectacular. The New World Symphony was amazing. Played technically and dynamically and emotively. I said afterward that I wish the symphony were a house, so I could live in it. Every movement is memorable and noteworthy.

But what struck me about the concert was the second piece: a violin concerto. I've seen a lot of music in my day, but I have never seen something like this, especially in a professional environment. Part of the way through the first movement, when the soloist was playing aggressively in the lower register, something must have happened to his bow or his instrument. He gestured frantically to the concertmaster and then ran off the stage. In the middle of the piece! He ran off the stage! The result was almost cartoonish, as the orchestra fumbled to a halt. The crowd started to murmur as we waited to see what would happen. Interestingly enough, they were recording the performance for iTunes.

Eventually, the soloist emerged, mysterious problem solved. Eschenbach announced "From the beginning!" And all began anew. It struck me during the second movement, the second time through, that I had completely forgotten that this catastrophic foible had happened. I was so into the current moment, that the drastic jarring of the fleeing soloist was practically eliminated from my memory. When the piece was finished, the applause was so uproarious that the soloist had to exit and re-enter the stage to bow three times.

And it was a lovely little birthday lesson for me. I am terrified of making mistakes and of failure. To the extent that I become immobilized. And whether this musical mishap falls into the “mistake” or “act of God” category, this was a big deal. A professional soloist performing with a premiere orchestra ran off of the stage in the middle of a performance, which was being recorded for later sale. Have you ever heard of such a thing? But in the end, it really was no big deal. They started over. He played exceptionally well. They got a full recording. And the audience enjoyed it thoroughly, perhaps even moreso, because of the truly unique experience they had been a part of.

Wrapped up in this birthday present was a little lesson tied with a musical bow. Take courage. Risk. We don’t know the end of the story.

Here’s to making mistakes at age 31.