September 7, 2011

weekend-readsUnfinished Symphony

We were a bad orchestra. Even our repertoire spoke of diminished expectations: Beethoven's First, Excerpts from Bizet's Carmen, Schubert's Unfinished. In the hands of a good orchestra I knew these works shimmered and dazzled, made audiences sigh and weep. But in our hands—the Greater Middlesex County Community Orchestra's—I sensed any sighing or weeping would be for self-pity's sake. The best we could do was to play the pieces. Indeed Moses Tobin, our conductor, a volunteer, had chosen the works less for their aesthetic offerings, grand as they were, than for their relative technical ease. One month before our first concert, scheduled the second Saturday of May, and it appeared plain: Moses hated us. He could count on us to begin and finish, but no matter how vigorously he wielded his baton, no matter how forthcoming his cues—as fluid and directive as a cop ushering rush-hour traffic—everything in between still came down more or less to chance. And so Moses despised us in t

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Longitudinal Study

By JP Grasser

We were a bad orchestra. Even our repertoire spoke of diminished expectations: Beethoven's First, Excerpts from Bizet's Carmen, Schubert's Unfinished. In the hands of a good orchestra I knew these […]

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