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Carmen's Encounter
with Joshua Bell:
January 11, 12, 13 - Detroit I'm having trouble sitting still long enough to write this. My mind is reeling, and I catch myself with a goofy grin on my face, still stunned by the realization that I just heard Joshua Bell perform live. I spent the two hours between my departure from Orchestra Hall and now, pacing around the house, trying to settle down, occasionally grabbing John Galt, my violin, for an impromptu squeak of inspiration. Last August, when Josh's Detroit performances were announced, I threw all caution and a paycheck to the winds, and bought tickets for all three dates. Logic dictates that if one must fly far from home and miss a week of school to see one's favorite violinist, one might as well go to all three concerts. So, on January 11, 12, and 13 of the REAL first year of the new millennium, I got to hear Josh perform the Sibelius violin concerto with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.
Not speaking from vast experience, the hall is quite pretty, and the usher who showed me to my seat on the first evening, a Thursday, pointed out that I’d be sitting right in front of the violin section. As the lights dimmed on a nearly full house, my excitement was more than I could bare and I had to make a conscious effort to feign composure. The opening piece, Carl Nielsen's Overture to Maskarade was beautiful and uplifting (which did not help my composure); I was, however, holding my breath for the chocolate ice cream of all violin concertos: the gorgeous Sibelius. Josh came out on stage wearing all black (dress pants, untucked shirt, and yes, very shiny shoes), and moments later, the magic began. His violin sang the opening bars of the first movement, a pure, sweet sound against the haunting rustle of the other strings. As the movement progressed into the first cadenza, I smiled at the sheer, simple beauty of the harmonics, and silently vowed to never grumble at etudes again. The final cadenza, a frenzied rush of sound, was beautifully executed, and when it was over, I gasped (I hadn't realized that I had been holding my breath until then). The second movement, besides providing me with an opportunity to inhale some much needed oxygen, showcased Josh's lyrical playing style - he brought a warmth to the Sibelius's romantic movement which I have never encountered before (and I own quite a few different recordings of this concerto). It was, however, the third movement that I loved the most. The rhythmic stomp of the orchestra provided a wonderful, earthy foundation for the solo violin, and the thunderous sound engulfed the hall and all within it.
One of the things I love most about the Sibelius in general is its ability to evoke vivid images; the first movement is like a musical painting of a northern scene: mists creeping over a barren, frozen landscape, slowly building up to sharp gusts of wind in a soaring crescendo. The second movement has all the romantic majesty of tranquil, crystal lakes nestled between snow-capped mountains. The third and final movement brings together all these elements in an anthem for life and nature. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to the sound of a beating heart, it is a celebration of life itself, with the solo violin sounding joyous, almost triumphant at the head of this auditory stampede. The DSO did a superb job of accompanying Josh, and conductor Neeme Jarvi displayed his mastery and skill, however, there is no doubt that all ears, so to speak, were on Josh. His playing was exquisite: perfect intonation; gorgeous phrasing; flawless execution of all trills, double stops, etc. On top of that, he was so animated during the performance that it was hard to take my eyes off of him and his violin. On the first night, I listened to most of the concerto with my eyes closed, letting the sound wash over me, and savoring the voice of the famed Tom Taylor. On the second night, I followed Josh's hands as his long and elegant fingers brought the music to life. On the third night I tried to take everything in as a whole, and for the most part, failed miserably. Josh's playing was mesmerizing, and as I watched him close his eyes as he played, I found myself wondering where the music was taking him.
Overall, the experience was amazing
(though at times a bit overwhelming). On each of the three nights the silence
at the end of the concerto was broken by the deafening sound of thunderous
applause, bravos, and a much deserved standing ovation (requiring three
to four curtain calls). As a post-concert treat, I also had the opportunity
to meet Josh on each of the three evenings, and I have to say that he is
probably the nicest person alive (this opinion is, of course, in no way
influenced by my sheer adoration of his music). He put up with my autograph
requests and my wanting pictures (which are, by the way, excellent material
evidence that I did not just dream the whole thing), not to mention a barrage
of questions which he answered with the same eloquence and grace present
in his playing. I don’t think that I will ever forget this experience,
and I’m very grateful for both the beautiful music and the inspiring man
behind it.
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