I have noticed that when I look for things to catch me unawares, it usually doesn't happen. I suppose because I'm looking for it? Duh! But what does happen once in a while is something stops me in my tracks that is either so beautiful or so sentimental or both that my eyes fill with tears and my throat gets all constricted. This happened last night. The thing is, though, it will not seem like much. I hope I can convey what it felt like though.
My generous husband, bought tickets for us to attend a "series" of concerts/musicals/events in the city we live near. He is not particularly a fan of musicals, but he likes most other kinds of music and is much more open to interpretative things than I--I've always been much more of a traditionalist. It has been lovely. We go out to eat and then attend the "theater" for whatever the musical gathering happens to be. This was such a great present for me as I enjoy going out to eat almost as much as a good musical! Because we are "empty nesters" and I seem to be having a hard time with that, this is just what the doctor ordered so to speak. The problem, if there is one, is that the series sometimes comes with an entertainment that neither he nor I have ever heard. We look up the artist on-line to see if we can get a glimpse of what we're in for, but that isn't always helpful. The event we attended last night, for example was a band from Berlin, as in Germany. The write up on internet made much of the band and singer, though we had never heard of either of them. We decided we might as well go and see them anyway, you never know, we might even like them!
If you don't know this yet, I love big band music. But not even just big bands, the music of the 30's and 40's speaks to something in me: of romance, times gone by and the tenuous tie with our departed father who listened to nothing else. I know oodles of songs from the era, memorized lyrics and can sing along with whomever is interpreting those songs. I also happen to love Fred Astaire musicals. I realize his singing wasn't the reason you watched, but Oh, Lord he was elegant. In his movements and even his interpretations of the songs he warbled. Cole Porter is said to have marveled at Astaire's ability to interpret lyrics. I learned many a Porter/Gershwin tune from those movies.
So there are we last night in this old music house. Not the newly refurbished, glass house, but the old dame. The seats are practically on top of one another vertically and the chandeliers need some serious work (as does the upholstery, carpeting and yes, even a paint job). The German band comes out wearing the tuxedos reminiscent of days gone by and they have those podium-like desks in front of them as the big bands used to have, with the leader of the band emblazoned on the front (or maybe just his initials). The lead singer comes out with white tie and tails and begins to talk about male/female relationships in a witty and urbane Cole Porter-esque fashion. His selections were a compilation of German and American songs--sung in both languages--from the 20's and 30's. He had a beautiful voice that had an interesting range. It was pleasant. Ah, but then the band began to play something and I thought, hmm, that sounds familiar. When I recognized the melody of "Cheek to Cheek" I thought, wonder what this will sound like? And then he began to sing. It was like Fred Astaire was standing on the stage singing to me. "Heaven. I'm in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak." I closed my eyes and I could see him dancing. And singing. I swear this singer sounded almost exactly like Astaire with an accent. It brought tears to my eyes. It was absolutely perfect. And the orchestra played the song to perfection, not too sentimental, not too antiseptic, just right. And it carried me to the place I go where I don't have to work for a living and there is still romance living and breathing, even if it is just on the stage. And it carried me, "dancing cheek to cheek." I don't believe my husband noticed me wiping my eyes after this, but I don't care. It caught me unawares and reminded me that there is beauty all around whether you dance or not. Whether you sing for a living or not. And sometimes it's found in a German retro band with white ties and tails.
3 comments:
Love that sort of surprise.
You know the arts festival where The Missus and I saw Margaret Atwood? Every year I wish we could afford to subscribe to all the events, because I just know we'd be delighted with the unknown (to us) as much as with the familiar. In a past life, An Earlier Missus and I subscribed to a dance series at the Walnut St. Theatre, which had been recently restored. I'd never paid too much attention to dance, wasn't sure why we chose to buy a subscription... but was constantly amazed by how much I (we) enjoyed it.
the place I go where I don't have to work for a living: Oh my, how I love my counterpart place!
This reminds me, too, (of course, since you did capture the feeling so well!) of a similar experience in what I believe to the be same "grand dame". I went to the "Kool Jazz Festival" just about a month after Dad died to see Lionel Hampton as the warm up act with Wynton Marsalis playing the headline spot. Due to the proximity to his passing, I figured that the Hampton set would cause me to lose it in front of my date. Nice presentation, but no biggy. I liked it but no deep reaction.
I had a few Marsalis CDs at the time and was only vaguely aware of Dad knowing any note he ever played, but when he played that night - the goosebumps were like marbles. The only way I have ever been able to explain this to anyone is that I was hearing with Dad's ears. It's the only way I could describe it. It probably helped that Marsalis was touring in support of some of his "Standard Time" stuff. But I could not tell you the name of a single song he played that night, and I was nearly a blubbering mass next to a woman I most wanted to impress. The smile and the tears were inseparable. I wonder if you were in the same seats?
JES: The lottery sings to me each week. Evidently though, it's a hollow tune played to the "get-up-and-go-to-work" melody. Heavy sigh.
Mike: I often wonder how much channeling we do with either the places we visit or the sounds/smells/sights we experience. I think Dad is and was present in all those things--and I am happy to have him present wherever he is.
Post a Comment