Yo-Yo Ma and The Silk Road Ensemble

We got in late last night and I got to bed even later. This morning I am that kind of groggy that has me walking into furniture and standing in front of the fridge forgetting why I am even in the kitchen.

The Silk Road Ensemble was stunning last night. Max was thoroughly enchanted. (He did a much better job of sitting and listening intently than a lot of the adults around us.) The program leaned heavily toward world music, much of it Middle Eastern and Asian and a couple of the pieces required what I like to call "muscular listening."

Max & Frank both have this ability to listen to music almost mathematically. I am more of a three-chord-songs-I-wish-I-had-written-myself kind of girl but the music last night was so beautiful and moving, I had no problem despite being a bit out of my wheelhouse.

Last night reminded me that I want to do more of this, more downtown after dark, more live music.

And yes, Karen, I wore something pretty.

Seeing Max

Last night was the school district's Strings Festival, the concert Max has been looking forward to all year. The 4th and 5th graders from both elementary schools play and then they play along with the jr. high and high school orchestras for the grand finale, Beethoven's Ode to Joy. It was jubilant! I bet there wasn't a dry eye in the house.


The Municipal Auditorium is large and it was a little hard to see Max from where we were sitting. But at one point, while the high school orchestra was playing, Max leaned forward and rested his forehead against the neck of his cello and I could see him perfectly. He was listening intently. The look on his face was a combination of joy and fierce concentration.

Tomorrow night we see Yo-Yo Ma and The Silk Road Ensemble. I can hardly wait.

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Playlist

I've mentioned before that we make a big deal out of Saturday night dinner. We put out the matching glasses and napkins. We light a candle. We turn down the lights and gather in a way that's different from our day in, day out dinner routine.

We listen to music at the dinner table on Saturdays and we take turns choosing what we listen to. In the past, The Kid's choices were pretty predictable. For months it was "The Best of Van Morrison." Then it was REM's "Green" (which I love with a white-hot passion). Recently, his musical world is expanding. He listens to Bob Marley and Foo Fighters and strange ambient, new age stuff.

Last week we decided to up the musical ante for dinner music by taking turns creating a playlist for Saturday night dinner. Lefty's turn was Saturday (great list, heavy on jazz). It is my turn next week.

Planning my playlist has plunged me back into the memories of the mix tapes I used to make. My sister and I used to exchanged them and we created some classics. Her best one was titled "water is falling from the sky." Mine was, "I Was Stung by a Poison Toad from Hell." These are tightly woven thematic collections of music that I still love in all their warped cassette tape glory.

So I've gathered up a big pile of cds and I've started listening and making notes for my playlist. (This whole process is infinitely easier on a computer, I might add.) If I like the way it turns out, I might even send a copy to my sister.

Interlude

I had two arresting musical moments over the weekend.

I was in the grocery store on Sunday and heard the Cowboy Junkies singing Anniversary Song and I started singing without really knowing it. I didn't stop until I wheeled around a corner and startled some guy in the frozen foods. Now our store has a very eclectic playlist and it's not unusual to hear Kate Bush or The Pixies or XTC during a milk run, but I have never just spontaneous started to sing before. Hum a little maybe, but this was full fledged singing. It surprised me - it's something I would have done without thinking twenty years ago. It felt good.

Then last night I was watching television and over the final few scenes of the show I was watching the were playing a song I used to know in the background. The immediate and sort of visceral recognition stunned me. It was a song I had sung a thousand times in countless kitchen and showers and driving along way too many winter roads. In that little moment of recognition, that song called forth a part of me I'd forgotten. I got goose bumps. It was U2's
Running to Stand Still.

I don't know why my musical tuner is cranked up so high these days but I kind of like it. I think I'd forgotten how important a song can be – how easily that one perfect song can change you life.

I Think I’m in Love

This is kind of embarrassing to admit but I'm usually kind of slow to embrace new technology. Computers, I've always loved them and heck, I spend a large portion of my existence sitting in front of one trying to remember how to spell, but I have been hesitant to move into the world of digital music. In fact, it was not that long ago that both Lefty and I could quote Brian Eno about digital corruption and argue long into the night with anyone who did not prefer the warmth of a recording on vinyl. I won't argue the pros and cons or voice my initial misgivings about digital music here - I am too busy rubbing two sticks together to make fire.

Relax. We did eventually start buying and listening to cds.

I still have cassette tapes, however, that I listen to just for their warped graininess. Mix tapes that my sister made for me, the guitar and voice of an old lover, tapes that sound as old as they are. I will always love these recordings because they exist in physical time, in memory.

You may recall that Santa brought The Kid a MP3 player for Christmas. I put some new songs on it before we left for vacation and wound up borrowing it while I walked on the treadmill a couple of times. It was a meaningless little flirtation but I fell hard, came home and ordered one for myself. Not a fancy ipod from the evil empire, just a simple little player from the same company that made The Kid's. It also has FM radio, good for an npr junkie and a little voice recording device that let's you record short notes to yourself, an excellent tool for the writerly me. I am always thinking of something I must write down when I am miles from pen and paper.

It is a startling experience to put those ear buds in and let music close around me , the rest of the world fades a bit. Normally, I have one ear cocked for the sounds of the other people I live with, Lefty's small sigh at being unable to find socks, The Kid's garbled yelp of "Mom" if he's had a bad dream or fallen with a thump out of his bed. Lefty often comments on how quickly I can jump up from a sound sleep and sprint into the next room. I tell him it's because I'm always half-listening, even asleep. This little chunk of black plastic gives me the chance to wrap some music around myself and get a little distance from all the other things I'm always listening for and I love it for that.