Rachmaninoff at Ravinia

There are a few professions I observe where, for a split second, it seems there is no comparable outlet for the myriad intellectual and emotional charges surging inside our bodies. When you see a person at the peak of that profession those feelings multiply. When you have a moment, kindly add ‘pianist’ to this short list of unrequited professional loves.

A certain someone I know harbors a questionably-healthy obsession for Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto. Therefore, when word surfaced that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO), along with a world reknown Russian pianist, Denis Matsuev, would be performing this number at the outdoor music venue Ravinia, nothing short of Lake Michigan drying up would stop us from attending.

CSO performed two other Rachmaninoff pieces without a featured piano part beforehand, which were both spectacular. That gave us a chance to appreciate the violin and cellos (among others) before the pianist absolutely dominated the show. After a brief intermission, Matsuev took center stage. As a bit of background, the 3rd Piano Concerto has driven accomplished pianists mad with its technical difficulty. Supposedly, only a handful of people on earth can complete a flawless performance and imbue the piece with all the nuances it requires.

Luckily, we stumbled upon one of these living legends. Matsuev, himself, evoked thoughts of a (relatively speaking) attractive Frankenstein. But that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here a bit. Standing over 6 feet tall and fairly well-built with blocky shoulders and face, he almost made the huge piano look small. Matsuev exhibited a stage flair while playing, but it didn’t seem fabricated. The concerto was so demanding that at points he would drop one of his arms to the side for a brief rest and continue on with the other. Some moments I honestly thought the keyboard would crack under his relentless, but precise, hammering only to find respite a moment later in a soft, feather-light section demanding utmost delicacy. Within a nanosecond he could switch modes seamlessly. Throughout it all, the haunting melody of the concerto spun the threads together. You could physically see Matsuev pouring himself into the piece that lasted roughly 30 minutes and upon finishing it, he burst from the bench and embraced the orchestra conductor. We were positioned to the side of the stage near the front so I had a good view of Matsuev as he strode from the stage. His face looked exhalted and beaming.

Without exaggeration, I can say that was the most moving musical performance I’ve ever witnessed. Also, it surpassed Tim Reynolds’ solo guitar as the most technically challenging show I’ve witnessed at such close range.

Aside from the music, the venue itself made memories. Ravinia consists of the covered orchestra seating (our seats) that is, nevertheless, still open to the elements for 270degrees. Outside this orchestra area, large grassy swaths invite people to bring food and wine and enjoy the music from loudspeakers scattered throughout the grounds. From what I saw, these seats don’t offer a view of the stage, but they also only cost $10. Pretty sweet deal…..barring bad weather.

Unfortunately, bad weather came. And it came. And it came.

Thunderstorms swept through the area throughout the day, but a relative calm pervaded before the start of the show. We went up and met with some friends preparing their grassy perch just prior to the show but, alas, the rains returned. The sky was unforgettable: a solid bank of incredibly dark clouds came roaring in from the west bringing the storms with it. I’m pretty sure the four horsemen galloped on their steeds amidst that turmoil. K and I scrambled for cover down below and left our poor friends to fend for themselves. As it turns out, they found refuge under a covered area in one of the food/drink buildings and managed to make the most of the show. That does go to illustrate the dangers, however, of the grassy seats.

Anyways, the storms ripped and roared throughout the show. There were moments when the orchestra mounted a charge with drums banging, horns blowing, gongs ringing when, meanwhile, lightening blazed through the sky and deafening thunder followed shortly thereafter. All in all, mother nature choreographed herself impressively with the music.

what happened to sleeping in until 8 pm?

Every once-in-a-great-while the stars sync up their cosmic whirling-dervish and align for a brief moment in the black heavens. Under an auspicious sky of void expanses dotted by burning jewels, I find myself lucky enough to do a bunch of really cool things over the course of a weekend for really cheap. This was the case last weekend.

Now although the dollar beers and epic Boggle clashes on Friday surely contributed to a memorable couple days, I’m alluding more to what started on Saturday night. Actually, it all started a couple weeks ago at work, of all places. There I was, staring at my computer screen in my cubicle world listening to the symphony of fax machines, click-clack typing, and ringing phones. I overheard a conversation in the copy room (side note: the only interesting conversations at work happen in the copy room under the false assumption of privacy) wherein this guy revealed he was a drummer for a bellydancing troupe. After much clandestine investigation that involved periscopes and tracking dogs, I managed to find this guy and introduce myself. He gave me the hook up on an upcoming show.

Saturday. So the upcoming show upcame. On Saturday, my accomplice in crime and I wandered into the underworld of tribal dancers. Tucked away behind this little artsy café down by China town (for all DC hipsters reading here, check out the Warehouse Theatre…it’s a cool spot that’s bringing in interesting shows but struggling to really get going) was a little theatre that couldn’t have sat more than 100 people gasping for oxygen and unsuccessfully looking around for the fire escape. It didn’t take long to realize that we were viewing an esoteric art with people who understood and probably followed it religiously. When one of the dancers performed an abnormally difficult pose (aka, balancing a plate of burning candles on her belly as she twisted her body into a contorted ball of aching muscles or gracefully pranced around the stage with two scimitars resting unsupported on her head) the audience would erupt with animalistic whoops that sounded like some kind of hungry whooping crane. But everyone sounded like the same crane…like they’d gone to a belly dancing cheer class.

Aside from any inconsequential feeling of alienation we experienced from the cliquey whoopers, it was an amazing show. Exotic music rattled the creaky wooden posts that supported plain black sheets…a simple backdrop that directed your attention to where it was deserved: the dancers. The first part consisted of a local troupe (DC Tribal) exhibiting their funkadelic freshness, followed by a visiting cadre of more prominent dancers. For all my readers in San Francisco…and when I say readers, I mean reader, thank you Blogmyers-can I get a Hayward in the house…check out Ultra Gypsy perform for a memorable night. For those anywhere near San Diego, Urban Tribal Dancers is the show to hit. Besides the elaborate costumes, absurdly athletic moves, and hypnotic theatrics, I loved how they seamlessly blended in modern elements (especially in the music) with the more traditional. It made me feel like I was watching something being created instead of looking at a 3-D, moving exhibit in a museum.

Sunday. Anyone who’s seen Good Will Hunting or has an inkling of appreciation for conscientious social criticism knows they should read Howard Zinn (i.e. A People’s History of the United States, You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train). I know this, yet still never have. I did get a chance to watch his film biography and listen to him speak, however, on Sunday at the American Film Institute in Maryland. I liked Howard’s story because he didn’t follow the traditional academic path. Instead, he spent a good deal of his youth scavenging around the streets of New York, working at the shipyards, and dropping bombs in World War II. I’m guessing this all contributed to what I liked best about him: he’s an idealist who’s realistic about the possibilities and means of change. It was cool to see someone who was integrally involved in social demonstrations during the Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam speaking about Iraq in 2005. Perhaps my historical imagination is weak, but I oftentimes feel completely removed from the accounts I read in books or see in movies of those tumultuous times, regardless of how recently they occurred. Zinn helped to bridge the gap. The dude is old, but spry and healthy. He has a glimmer in his eye that bespeaks a life lived well. He’s a seasoned speaker with a patient mien who didn’t hesitate to let questioners talk longer than they should have. He made me want to read his books and get fired up about what’s going on in the world.

Monday (we’ll pretend that’s part of the weekend). I watched the Washington Wizards kick the Chicago Bulls’ ass to tie up the series 2-2 in the first round of the NBA playoffs Although they tried as hard as they could to give up their commanding lead in the 4th quarter, the Bulls managed to shoot so horrifically that the Wizards simply had to leave with a win. (Series now 3-2 Wizards, thanks to a last second shot by Gilbert Arenas after they tried their same strategy of giving up a 20 something point lead, but not quite being able to lose). It wasn’t all poor play, however. As a matter of fact, four minutes into the game the Wizards had scored enough points to be en route to racking up 180. That did not happen. That’s good, because I can’t count that high. I got to see miniature blimps, a magician help his counterpart change outfits really fast…over and over, and entertaining basketball. Plus, I had the option to drink my beer with a straw. Gotta love it.

Moral of the Story: I want more weekends where a twenty dollar bill reminds me that the world isn’t a staid complex of mindless masses shuffling to and from lego buildings…and still gets me change.