We’ve arrived late, Heidi and I. Our cab picked us up after 8 and we were forced to trudge three blocks from Symphony Towers to the NY-style wood-oven pizza dive (delish) for some spinach-and-ricotta-topped-dough before returning to The Towers for intermission. Word in the ladies’ room? The Symphony’s performances of Mendelsohn and Dvorak were “beautiful and melodic.” This description is too vague to inspire my trust, but I’ve heard that the SDS can deliver.
Never before have I witnessed the performance of a Chinese conductor or an African American, male flautist. Nor have I ever shared space with such a marvelous concert piano, except perhaps at the New York Philharmonic – but that was so many years ago. This piano is open full-tilt and provides a no-holds-barred-blast of bright, woody notes. I am instantly in lust with this Hummer of a klavier.
The walls surrounding a glowing orange stage are warm San Diego yellow. Walnut, perhaps? Discordantly gothic gray pillars and rosettes lit with lavender light decorate the remainder of the hall, conjuring Rhiems at night in February (not that I’ve been), Goethe and romantic German painters. As a result of this contrast, the musicians are bathed in golden sunshine. They appear precious and precise.