Symphony enthusiasts should look elsewhere for a review by a classical connoisseur. All I can offer is my opinion of a performance that is beyond my knowledge technically, but aesthetically and emotionally is something that should speak to all levels.
I expected to have difficulty appreciating the beauty of an orchestral composition because of my lack of experience with it, but as the performance began I realized how familiar such music is to me. It is the soundtrack for countless movies, old and modern, but what it reminded me of most vividly was the Warner Brothers cartoons I watched as a kid. When the performers plucked their violins, I couldn’t help but think of Bugs Bunny tiptoeing away from Elmer Fudd, and when the whole orchestra joined in, I figured Bugs must have been discovered and Elmer was giving chase.
I was entertained during the first section of the performance (even without the aid of cartoon references) by the percussion section. It played a large role in Berlioz’ Roman Carnival Overture and included the tambourine, the cymbals, the snare drums, and the triangle. Each musician took his job as seriously as a symphony performer should. The triangle player, for example, would stand there self-importantly, silently watching the conductor, and when her time came she’d give the triangle one chime or more and then clasp her hands again and wait for the next opportunity to showcase her talent.
The main attraction was renowned violinist Maxim Vengerov, who by the age of seven was practising seven hours a day and at fifteen took top honours at the Carl Flesch International Violin Competition. Now twenty-eight and an acclaimed musician with a record contract with EMI Classics, he has played to diverse audiences, including a performance at the Grammys. He stood next to the conductor with his 1723 “Ex-Kreutzer” Stradivarius and played non-stop without sheet music for over forty minutes. The orchestra behind him simply tried to keep up with his pace and energy.
After Vengerov left the stage, the orchestra was given all the attention again with Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, which is considered Tchaikovsky’s final farewell to life: he died nine days after conducting its premiere. It was easy to get swept away by the harmony of so many people each playing a small part in creating music that encompassed them all with its singular unity and grace. What I found particularly surprising was how visually stunning it was. The conductor appeared to be in conversation with the musicians at times: he would bow towards them, arms moving constantly, and they’d respond by leaning in towards him. At other times he would raise his baton in the air and the string section would follow his lead, a wave of bows rising out of the sea of performers. Often the conductor seemed swept away himself, holding on to the banister behind him with one hand so he could flail wildly with his other arm and not go flying off into the first row of the audience.
Last year when the TSO was in financial trouble, it upset me to think such an important contributor to the culture of Toronto would be gone. But even though I wanted our city to be cultured, I didn’t want to partake in that aspect of it. I considered it too high-culture—meaning it would be expensive and I wouldn’t appreciate it, even if I did go. What I found was that high culture could be enjoyed for under thirty dollars and that it didn’t take a symphony aficionado to realize the talent and beauty of classical music in performance.
