Ann Marie's Violin Concert

I love the way one memory triggers another, or how a random comment reminds me of something.  The posts that result are often my favourites; they almost write themselves.

A couple of weeks ago, I did a post on concerts at home with my dad. Attending a Home Routes concert in September had reminded me of those evenings. Cher from AskCherLock commented that perhaps her neighbours had some similar arrangement because she regularly heard live music coming from their house in the summer.  She sits back and enjoys the concerts from her own patio.


Cher's comment reminded me of Ann Marie's violin concert, a concert that Ann Marie, to this day, does not know she actually performed for me.

Anyone who has lived with or close to someone learning the violin will know what the practice sessions sound like. Is it screeching? Sawing? The initial years of violin playing are torture for anyone within earshot! Ann Marie, who lived nextdoor, was no exception.

Sometimes she practiced in the backyard in the summer, perhaps to give her parents and brother a break.

I didn't hear her play for a few years until one hot summer day. I had taken a nice, cool glass of white wine out to the patio and intended to sit quietly in the shade for a few minutes before starting dinner. Soon, violin music began in the backyard next door. Ann Marie was practicing.

I couldn't believe my ears. Ann Marie's music was lovely, classical, and flowing. Those few years had made such an enormous difference.

The two yards were separated by a fence and bushes on each side, so Ann Marie had no idea that I was there as she practiced. I sat in wonder for about thirty minutes, sipping my wine in the cool shade of a hot day, enjoying my own private concert. I can't remember what she played, but for those magical minutes, she was the best violinist I had ever heard.

Thanks to Cher, I remembered; without her comments, who knows how long this memory might have stayed buried.


(I know that the video clip has two violinists, but it is a beautiful rendition of Pachelbel's Canon in D.)






(girl with violin photo credit)
(violin close-up photo credit)

Concert Nights at Home

When I was about eleven, my mother worked on Thursday evenings, and my dad and I had to fend for ourselves (which in those days meant that we ate the dinner mom had prepared before she left!).

After the dishes were done, dad and I would have a concert. We had a stereo - a novelty at the time - and could play either the old 78rpm records or the newer 33rpm ones (45s, too). My father had a largish collection of 78s with everything from Bach's Inventios to Spike Jones's craziness




Ah, we only had the sound when I was a kid. Spike Jones on video is a find, complete with zany sounds, lots of slapstick, even cross-dressers.

Of course at the age of eleven, I loved the Spike Jones best and could listen to it over and over, perhaps as only an eleven-year-old can. The Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin (my highbrow favourite at the time), Caruso, and Mario Lanza stuck as well, though. Since then, I have had a love of music, classical and otherwise, that I always attribute to my father.

When I was invited to an in-home concert in September, it brought back all those memories. And the concert didn't disappoint - I previously wrote a blog entry about the artist Charlie A'Court.

The idea of concerts in private homes is brilliant. For many smaller communities, it means seeing artists one would otherwise never even know about. The Home Routes method involves one host signing on for six concerts, spaced out over a few months. The tickets are very, very reasonable, and the in-home atmosphere is good, probably because it's all friends and friends of friends.

A quick Google search indicates that this is a popular method for promoting artists, and many organize such concerts for a profit.

Home Routes "is a not-for-profit organization made up of folks just like you and is dedicated to the love of music, to making music more accessible to a greater number of people and to supporting the artists that make the music."

I don't know this for sure, but believe the not-for-profit way surely has a much more down-to-earth and satisfying dynamic than a for-profit endeavour.

Then again, maybe I'm just spoiled from all the "Dad and Me" concerts that were all about love of music and sharing.

Mozart Puffery

James R. Oestreich, in his NYTimes article "Damning Mozart with Fervid Praise," takes to task Carl Vigeland for both the factual errors and overblown hyperbole of his book The Mostly Mozart Guide to Mozart.

Oestreich's obvious annoyance with this book is finally because "mindless, cliched, indiscriminate cheerleading is the last thing classical music needs just now, as it finds itself increasingly challenged to prove its relevance in the multicultural, anti-elitist, pop-saturated arts climate of the 21st century." I couldn't agree more.

I also especially like Oestreich's writing. I do hope that when he calls Vigeland's description of the "Jupiter" Symphony "one of the most egregious examples of strained puffery," he is being somewhat ironic!

Vigeland's book was done in collaboration with the Lincoln Center and contains anecdotes from festival participants, but is "unworthy of what the Mostly Mozart Festival has...become."

The festival runs from July 28 to August 22, 2009.

Oestreich is always knowledgeable and enjoyable to read.

I would like to invite James R. Oestreich to my soiree.