Original image of Vasily Petrenko and Isata Kanneh-Mason by There Stands the Glass.
The rough patch I’m pushing through worsened when my aged Prius didn’t start on Tuesday, January 24. I discovered that jump-starting a hybrid ain’t easy. After overcoming the challenge, I spent much of the day in the waiting room of a car dealership.
An ace in the hole kept me on an even keel. I purchased discounted front-row tickets for a concert by Isata Kanneh-Mason and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at Helzberg Hall on Black Friday two months ago.
I caught the eminent talents for what I might have paid for lunch from the dealership’s vending machines had I not packed my own provisions. As long as presenters of classical music price front row tickets like worthless trash, I’ll continue to buy the undervalued treasures.
Sore neck aside, the primary disadvantage to sitting a few feet from the musicians is the distorted sound field. The proximity of RPO’s massive violin section sometimes drowned out the distant harp in the interpretation of Claude Debussy’s “Danse” that opened the concert.
I feared the Steinway piano perilously rolled out for Sergei Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 3 might slip off the stage and fall into my lap. Instead, it helped provide an out of body experience. Accentuated by my extreme vantage point, Kenneh-Mason’s adept handling of the bonkers piece induced delirium.
The hallucinatory quality of the riveting footage of Martha Argerich’s 1977 reading of the composition with the London Symphony Orchestra parallels my extraordinary encounter. The version of Sergei Rachmaninov’s ponderous Symphony No. 2 brought me back to harsh reality. The symphony’s length compelled me to recall last month’s bucket list endurance contest.
I’m not complaining about my position amid approximately 1,000 concertgoers. Counting the beads of sweat streaming down the face of the demonstrative conductor Vasily Petrenko and reading along with the violinists’ sheet music were sensational diversions.