I have listened to them countless times, but I have never attended a live performance. When the music started, I was suddenly overcome - so many memories of listening to the Brandenburg Concertos in so many different circumstances, most especially with my father, who loved them also, and whose musical tastes I shared. In fact, had it not been for my father, I don't think I would have developed the love for classical music that I have.
My eyes filled with tears that welled and then spilled over. I felt a hot flush of embarrassment spreading over my face. Luckily, after the first movement, my emotions settled down, and I was able to feel myself sinking into the music. It adds such dimension to attend a live concert. I promised myself I would buy more tickets soon, and also that I would play the Brandenburg Concertos for myself when I got home. I was amazed at how much of the music I had missed; I had enjoyed the surface, without knowing what was going on beneath.
The night before, I went caroling. A violinist and mandolin player accompanied the group. It was wonderful to listen to them.
At some point, watching the musicians, I wondered at human beings: at our inventiveness, our creativity, the culture we have constructed to keep ourselves entertained. I saw, just briefly, the musicians on stage as though I had never seen musicians before - a group of people holding wood and sinew and hair and metal that had been fashioned as if by magic into instruments and using them to make pleasurable sounds for the entertainment of other people, sitting and listening. It all seemed so improbable, and so amazing.
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