2007 Highlight Reel, Part Two

Continuing with the top ten list of my favorite concerts of the year, we've made it to summer...

6. All-Nordic Program, Macy's Day of Music - July 13, Orchestra Hall
If you've never been to the Day of Music, you're missing out. Officially, it was created several years ago as the kickoff to our four-week Sommerfest concert series. Unofficially, the orchestra concert that's at the event's heart has become just a small piece of the greatest single showcase of the local music scene the Cities has going: 24 straight hours of live music, all genres (almost - we're sadly lacking in the hip-hop department), on five or six different stages, inside and out of our downtown concert hall. Best of all, the whole thing is completely free of charge, which has assured us of huge crowds every year, despite the fact that we're nearly always competing directly with either the Basilica Block Party or that corporate monstrosity of a concert the Aquatennial puts on in a parking lot on Washington Ave.

There are years where I've actually stuck around for all 24 hours of the Day of Music, just drinking in the atmosphere, and loving the sight of such a diverse crowd at our hall. Our concert, which comes mid-evening on the main indoor stage, always has a distinctly raucous atmosphere (comparatively speaking,) and the crowd, which waits in line for an hour or more to get a spot in the audience, is far more vocal and upbeat than at any other concert we play. It's basically a huge party, and I hope we never quit doing it.

7. Brahms - Clarinet Quintet - July 20, Orchestra Hall
Chamber music is something musicians love to play, because it challenges us in ways that orchestral and solo work doesn't, and because, musically speaking, it's the ultimate team sport. And over the last few years, the chamber music series we present at Sommerfest has suddenly become wildly popular. I don't know what combination of marketing strategy and musical quality has prompted the huge increase in attendance, but one thing that I know doesn't hurt is when Osmo is performing. Our music director is also a talented clarinetist, who played for several years as principal of the Helsinki Philharmonic before becoming a conductor, and after some prodding, he took up performing regularly with members of the orchestra on these concerts. This concert was my first chance to play with him, and the fact that it was on the Brahms quintet (widely considered by musicians to be the greatest piece of small-ensemble music ever written,) made the experience even more memorable.

As it turns out, Osmo is very easy to work with when he doesn't have a stick in his hand, and the other members of the group (violinists Jorja Fleezanis and Helen Chang, and cellist Jim Jacobson) were some of my favorite colleagues to play with as well. Together we pulled off what I thought was a rich, dark interpretation of the piece, and Osmo's work on the gypsy-tinged cadenzas of the difficult slow movement was deeply impressive.

8. Mendelssohn - Octet for Strings - August 26, Greenwood Music Camp; Cummington, Massachusetts
Okay, this is a slight cheat, because I didn't actually perform on this concert, but I don't care. Greenwood is a small chamber music camp squirreled away in the Berkshire hilltowns of Western Massachusetts, and I've been coming here since I was ten years old. It's the kind of place where kids discover everything they love about life and music, and tear up throughout the year whenever they think of it. The idea at this camp isn't to grow prodigies - it's to show a bunch of incredible kids a great time, with music as a key part of the action. No one spends six hours slaving away in a practice room at Greenwood. No one has to listen to a teacher lecture about what a disappointment they are, and how much harder they need to work to become a Great Musician. Kids there spend as much time playing soccer and dodgeball as they do playing Mozart. The result of the low-pressure environment is not just a well-balanced camp, but a higher level of music-making than you can possibly imagine.

The kids at Greenwood stun me every year with their dedication and their ability to rise to the level of expectation. But this year, I was assigned to coach a group of the camp's top young players on a piece that we normally never even attempt with kids under age of 13 - the rollicking, pounding finale of Mendelssohn's Octet for Strings. It's a perfect piece for teenagers - Mendelssohn was only 15 when he wrote it, and it's chock full of teen angst and wild emotion. It's also wickedly difficult to play, with eight players arrayed across the stage, trying desperately to stay together and in rhythm when they can barely hear each other. As I say, it's not something one generally attempts with young kids, but we had the feeling that this group might be able to pull it off.

The truth is, it was close. We rehearsed twice as much as the average Greenwood group does, and my coaching style (which I normally think of as friendly and collaborative) took a decided turn for the authoritarian as the week went on. I found myself stomping the floor to keep the beat, and begging individual players not to rush when they reached an easy section. One of the violinists, who had been placed in the group even though we feared that the part might be way over his head, was struggling mightily to remember where to begin his crucial solo 2/3 of the way through the piece. For the first time in my two decades at Greenwood, I was actually afraid that one of my groups might not be able to pull off what had been given to them.

The day of the concert, my first violinist came running up to me outside the concert barn, and whined that she was nervous. I told her she'd be great, that she had her part down cold, and hoped that I was telling the truth. When their turn came up on the program, dead last on a 3-hour concert (nothing, but nothing, can follow the Octet, so it's always last,) I slipped out of my seat and walked to the back of the barn, where none of the players would be able to see me. I knew how tense I was likely to be, and didn't want any of my fear transferring to the kids.

I shouldn't have worried. From the first snarling entrance of the cellos, the piece jumped off the page like it always does. The violas and then the violins joined the fray one by one, in perfect time, and the rushing drive to the first big cadence was packed with the kind of frenetic energy only kids ever seem to truly have. From there, it was an 8-minute roller coaster ride to the end, and my first violinist had clearly overcome her nerves, because when she led the final chord, she did it with such vigor that her arm left the string in an arc, yanking her bow into the air in an action pose that could have made the pages of Sports Illustrated. The kids and parents in the audience went berserk as they always do for this piece, as anyone would really have to do for this piece. Standing in the very back of the room, I had to turn away so that no one would see the tears in my eyes. Just as they do every summer, a collection of kids playing barefoot in a barn in the middle of nowhere had reminded me of why I love what I do for a living.

I'll finish out my top ten list on Wednesday, with my favorite two shows of this past fall, one of which may be a surprise. Happy New Year, all...