Or, Freude, schöner Götterfunken…
After a week of working overtime, I had two choices for a Friday night. One choice was the one I always make, which was to get drunk at home and watch Doctor Who. The other choice was to go with Josh to see the University of Washington Symphony with the UW Chamber Singers and the Tacoma Symphony Chorus perform Beethoven’s 9th. I’ve never seen Beethoven’s 9th – I’ve seen regrettably few orchestral performances – but the 9th is the choral symphony, as well as the one with “Ode to Joy.” And if you were raised Catholic or just watched Sister Act 2 several dozen times, then you know that “Ode to Joy” has a special ability to hit you right in the gut.
Overall, it was lovely. And although as refined as I felt while watching a symphony orchestra perform, I am still me, so I could not stop myself from thinking the following thoughts:
“Beeth-oven. Heh.”
“So-crates. Heh heh.”
“I wonder why the bass players have the most ridiculous hair. Three white kids with dreads on the same instrument? I mean, wow.”
“Respect-wise, is the triangle player in an orchestra like the kicker on a football team?”
“I can totally tell the cool band nerds from the nerdy band nerds.”
“Do not clap until the conductor turns around. If a first grade field trip to the symphony taught you nothing else, do not clap until the conductor turns around.”
“Sung in German, “Ode to Joy” is kind of terrifying.”
“That is some beard on that French horn player. I can’t wait to tell Graham.”
“Dude, seriously, no one will appreciate a Pretty Woman “I almost peed my pants” reference. So stop thinking it.”
“(snooty voice) Well I don’t think the man is competent enough to conduct a major symphony orchestra.”
(which naturally led me here)
Ephemera Etc. 