Two days ago was Austria's Independence Day so the Wiener Philharmoniker put on a concert of Dvorak, Brahms, and the French composer Henri Tomasi. All tickets were sold for 10 Euros so I had to go. Prior to the concert, a friend and I ate a couple nice and awful Falafel sandwiches that could not have been more disgusting. I don't believe there were any fried chickpeas anywhere in the sandwich.
We did make it to the Musikverein though and boy, it was an amazing concert. A few little Brahms diddies, Tomasi's Trombone Concerto and Dvorak's New World Symphony. That Dvorak though was incredible. I watched from the balcony above the orchestra once again except this time I got to see the entire brass section as well as the conductor's many facial expressions and over-the-top body movements. I also heard the conductor make numerous little noises at all the big moments. A little viiipp here and a big schhhhhhwwwwooooop there. I watched the clarinetist play his solos with dazzling precision and beauty. I heard the trumpets blast the unforgettable New World E minor theme. It was jussst great.
There were, however, a few oddities that I got to witness. The first took place before a single note was played. The Vienna Philharmonic tuned and then sat on stage in silence waiting for the conductor to appear. It felt like a minute or more but it may have just been 30 or 40 awkward seconds. The audience got a little uneasy, but Andriss Nelsons soon took the stage and all was good. The second oddity was a little odder. The entire orchestra sat on the stage in silence, this time with the conductor on his podium. It appeared that the principal bassoonist was not in his seat. The second bassoonist tried to get the conductor's attention and tell him not to start without his bassooning partner. I'm not sure if ya'll know Dvorak's 9th Symphony but you'll have to take my word for it, it'll sound weird with only one bassoon. So, the audience, orchestra, conductor, and I waited. We waited for this Vienna Philharmonic principal bassoon player to realize he was supposed to be on stage. Maybe a minute went by, like before it seemed like 10 minutes, but it was probably less than a minute. He finally runs onto the stage with his bassoon, clearly embarrassed, red in the face. Sits down, prepares his reed, clips the bassoon onto his neck strap, and assembles his music. He then turned his head and paused for a moment. WHHOOOPSsSyy DAISZZZZY. The man forgot his freakin' music. The poor, poor conductor was seconds away from starting the masterpiece after the first mishap. Now he was forced to wait some more as the forgetful man scooted off the stage, but not before knocking over a French hornist's music stand. The audience lets out some giggles, some chuckles, some Viennese "huhs?" I remember mouthing the words, "Whaaatt thheee helllll?" I couldn't believe it. This top-of-the-line, creme de la creme professional pulled a 9th grader move in one of the most prestigious concert halls with possibly the best symphony orchestra in the world. After another awkward moment, a moment in which I scanned the entire crowd looking at bewildered face after bewildered face, the now infamous bassoonist returns to the stage with his music in hand. He sits down once again and prepares himself for the Dvorak. It was about as shaky a beginning as can be (non-musically), and yet the orchestra played superbly. On each ticket the words "Konzert für Österreich" are printed. I felt like an Austrian in a Czech world for those 45 minutes. The ovation was, of course, ecstatic and as the principal bassoonist took his bow, he proudly held up his music and smiled.
The night before the concert, my friends and I had a night to remember. A quick summary to save you all some valuable internet time is the following: we met and left with a fellow IES student at our usual crappy bar and left after 10 minutes. We then met a Jamaican trumpet and guitar player on the U-Bahn and invited him to hang out with us. He accepted. So the group consisted of three of my housemates, my RA, his girlfriend, a friend of a friend, an IES friend we just ran into, and a total stranger. We stopped at a nice, quaint bar near our apartment. It was there that our new guitar/trumpet friend told Mr. Schweppe and I something we'll never forget. Turns out this guy was coming from a guitar lesson and his guitar teacher was once in jazz trumpeter Chet Baker's European band. For those who don't know, Chet Baker died in Amsterdam in 1988. His body was found on the ground in front of his hotel. Cocaine and heroin were found in his body. According to our new friend, his guitar teacher was asked to go with Chet Baker on that trip to Amsterdam. This guitarist decided he should kick his drug habit and not go with Chet. If he didn't, he probably would have witnessed Chet Baker take a hit of heroin, turn blue, open the window for some fresh air, then lose his balance and fall out of the window. He didn't commit suicide like many people have speculated. Yep, that's the true story that very few people know, but I'm telling you because you girls, boys, ladies and gentlemen deserve to know. After hearing this crazy story, the group retreated to our apartment for some cheap champagne and french fries. A jam session in our practice room ensued: two trumpets, guitar, and people banging away at the piano. We then headed to a true University of Vienna party with live bands and EVERYTHING. We met our Australian friend there, lost a friend's wallet, found our friend's wallet, moshed in a mosh pit full of Viennese college students, waited on bathroom lines, got a bloody nose, crowd surfed and ultimately, helped a friend carry a mattress found on the street to his apartment. I'd say that's one successful evening.
Till' next time,
Daniel S.R.
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