À la Cité de la Musique

My day at the Conservatory of Music included a performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony by the Brussels Philharmonic Orchestra (conducted by Michel Tabachnik) together with three choirs and two soloists, about seventy-five voices, singing the Ode to Joy during the 4th movement. It was an amazing day, actually; and brought tears to my eyes more than once.

I left home about 11am and got back about 11pm. Five hours of that time was spent in the Museum of Music and I didn't see (or hear) it all. They provide headphones and fantastic prerecorded commentary and lots of musical opportunities, some of which are live. The acoustics are wonderful. In fact, every performance I heard today was amazing, not just the symphony.

I hadn't been there long,  looking at all the beautiful old  lutes, when I heard a woman's voice singing a cappella. Magnificent. Professionally trained. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame even though I usually don't find a voice trained for opera compelling. That was the first time today music brought me to tears.

Later, there was a saxophonist playing Take Five and then  accompanying the same woman in a rendition of Summertime. More tears. Truly. I'm not exaggerating.

The museum is filled with instruments, including a dozen or more very early, very small pianos. The museum traces the history and development of western music and then circles back around and looks at world music. No mention of Louise Farrenc anywhere, though. Just the guys: Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt and Berlioz—I mean from my book. There was a lot about Louis XIV too. My interest in him continues to grow. Among other things, apparently, he was a talented musician.

There's also a piano that belonged to Chopin and one that belonged to Liszt. Chopin played on a Pleyel, Liszt on an Érard piano. The two men were sponsored by the piano-makers—kind of like movie stars promoting a brand. Sébastien Érard is credited with creating the modern piano in 1821. He designed the double-action that's now standard.

I came to the conclusion that I'm not giving Berlioz enough substance in my book, that I've focused too much on his bigger than life personality without showing his depth. They quoted him: music, like poetry, must reflect the various movements of the soul.

His December, 1830 performance of his Symphony Fantastique caused a sensation. I need to get that across too.  He actually passed out a program before the symphony was performed so that people would listen to it, knowing the story. It's the piece that won him the Prix de Rome.

After five hours, when I really couldn't take anymore in, one of the video commentaries talked about the way modern technology is and has changed the neurochemistry of the brain. Among other things, it effects the way we listen to music. I sat in a café drinking a café crème and thinking about that for quite awhile.

I was in the 19th Arrondissement, near the suburbs of Paris, almost at the end of the line for my Metro card. It was a definite neighborhood, and not one where I heard much English, either. Friday night. Paris is so vibrant at night. I ate a Thai Chicken salad and watched people and reflected on how at home I felt in the café scene.

The concert started at 8pm. Beethoven was deaf when he wrote his Ninth Symphony.  He completed it in 1824. He died in 1827. It was his last completed work. I had a second row seat. Right in front of the violin section. In fact, right in front of the lead violin. The other performer I had a good view of was the lead cello. It was stunning. I understood Beethoven better in the seeing, how he moves the melody from instrument to instrument, creating echoing refrains.

The Ninth Symphony also has those marvelous tymphani drums. Here's an excerpt. This is a different performance, of course, but I was right there, right in front of all that music, watching the violinists and the cellists and Swiss conductor Michel Tabachnik.