The Dabbler Visits Disney Concert Hall!

 

Though I consider myself a culturally literate person, there are certain areas that have not called out to me in the same way as the contemporary visual arts have -- like, say, for instance, live musical performances, especially of pre-20th century genres. Maybe it's because I have a hard time embracing things that I can't also collect on my own, items that don't have some component of accumulation. Music is abstract while art has physicality. I hate to think of myself as such a materialist, but in nine years of living in Los Angeles, not once had I attended a concert at the Music Center downtown, nor had I done anything other than admire the 2 year old exterior of Frank Gehry's Disney Conert Hall. That is, until Tuesday.

The Dabbler's husband usually sticks to the old standards for Valentine's Day. Some flowers, maybe dinner. He really hasn't ever strayed from this, except for our second V-Day together when he got me one rose instead of a dozen, claiming that its simplicity was more romantic than a garish bouquet could ever be. He was quickly disavowed of that notion. (Note to men: more is more much of the time.)

So imagine my surprise when the romantically challenged Mr. Dabbler presented me on Tuesday with tickets to the LA Philharmonic, and whisked me for an evening of baroque chamber music. I was pleased with the creativity. I was impressed with the choice of venue, as classical music lends itself to romance. Ultimatley, though, the experience of the 2 hour concert was somewhat frustrating, and thinking about why that was the case has helped me to understand the reasons I have avoided going to symphony all these years.

First, I don't like hearing music for the first time in a live venue. I want to be familiar with it. I want to know what to expect. I want to know the duration. It was not my dislike of orchestral music that had me squirming in my seat on Tuesday, but rather my anxiety at having no idea when each piece would end. It was like being in a spinning class where the instructor has chosen some techno-electronica with a pulsing beat. Without an endpoint in sight, I can't turn the resistance to ten and spin my ass off; but as long as I know when the next chorus of "oops, I did it again" is going to ring out, I'm a cycling machine.

So, with Rameau (right) and Gluck (left) on the program for Tuesday's event, I was put in the position of complete unfamiliarity. All I could do was look at my watch, cross and uncross my legs, and quiver with anxiety. The chairs at Disney Hall being excessively uncomfortable only exacerbated the squirming issue. (Note to Frank Gehry: more leg room is never a bad thing.)

Next, I don't love operatic vocals, though if I am familiar with the piece, this obstacle can sometimes be overcome. On this evening, the overly flowerly compositions were sung by a diva in an antiquated gown and ringlets in her hair worthy of the 18th Century. Performed in French, a language of which I have some knowledge, it bothered me intensely that even though I could read and translate the lyrics in the program, the words themselves were incomprehensible to the ear. Ironically, even though I much preferred the style of the non-vocal selections, the fact that lyrics were printed for me to follow along with during the songs somewhat allayed my nervousness at not knowing when things were going to end. They were the "Oops, I did it again" of the LA Phil.

Finally, I realize that though I have complained about the unoriginal flower/dinner Valentine's Day combo in the past, there is a reason why it's the old standby. As romantic as going to see the Phil was in concept, it didn't allow Mr. and Mrs. Dabbler to actually interact with one another. Yes, we were sharing an experience together. But we were experiencing it differently, personally, and ultimately separately. Valentine's Day is supposed to be about connecting. (And flowers...and chocolate...and presents.)

Don't think of me as a complete philistine, however. I will happily go back to Disney Concert Hall to see any number of programs, but beforehand I will have to know the music that is being performed. This is not to say that I will only go when the Four Seasons or Beethoven's Fifth are on the docket. I do like to be introduced to new things. So I will have to get ahold of the CDs ahead of time (do I see a collection beginning?), listen, learn, and then know what I'm in for. On any day of the year but February 14th...