Crunk at Lyric!
You know that episode of Sex and the City?
Carrie's "drunk at Vogue" and can't get over the fact that "she's drunk at Vogue!!" Well I had a similar experience at the Lyric Opera of Chicago this past Friday night. I sold raffle tickets at mom's Fantasy Gala that she's been planning and sweating over for the past several months. And it was one of the coolest nights ever. The cabaret of singers was alright, though there weren't any big stars this year.
But afterwards there was dinner and dancing, and I tell you, them old folksies can dance! But though the company, food, and entertainment were all delightful, the best part about the night, by far, was on our way back to the dressing room (that they'd given my mother to get ready in before the party started, since she'd been there all day setting up,) we had to go from the lobby through the theater and out one of the side doors off the far left aisle to get backstage. When we first entered the theater, from the lobby, all was dark except for little pinprick lights, like stars, studding the aisles and the chandeliers lining the balconies and walls. That, and there stood the ghost light, in the down stage right corner, in front of the heavy velvet curtain. It was a modest show of white light, but fabulously mysteriour and wonderful in keeping with tradition, (minus the placement that is...Traditional ghost lights stand stage center, the curtain up, and nothing on stage.) But it was magical, and breathtaking, and I was drunk on a bottle and a half of champagne for the night. And it wasn't night anymore, but morning, only you couldn't tell because it was dark in the theater, and there weren't any windows to remind us to go home, it's dark it's late, you ought to be in bed, Cinderella.
I didn't think either one of us, my mother or me, was capable at that moment to drive home. So we sat on the edge of the orchestra pit and look back at the boxes which were filled only an hour or two ago with table after table set with the finest crystal, silver, and linen. (Isn't that funny? They'd serve dinner to one private party in one private-party room, and another private party in the green room, and another in another private room, and a third in the boxes? I luhv it!) The night was like that theater, deep and brilliant, even through the dark. Nothing could swallow that theater up, it's the best in the nation, perhaps internationally.
I jumped into the pit on the conductor's stand and turned around back to the audience. I sang, I don't know what, but so that I filled the whole theater. My mom was surprised enough to burst into giggles and join in. It wasn't long after that before we'd foung our way onto the stage and, shoes off, begun to sing and dance, or just wiggle a little off balance really. But I couldn't get over what it sounded like to fill that theater with my voice. My voice alone. When you sit in the audience and listen to singers like those we heard earlier that night, you wish they'd get over themselves and just where microphones, because we don't get the full impact of their voice. It's just bad accoustics that's all, I thought. Or maybe their energies were running down, but like I want to blast my stereo and have the music flood my body like a tide, I wanted those tenors, sopranos, mezzos to send thrills down my spine. But they had seemed so quiet.
Not from the stage. No, from the stage, the accoustics are best. You can hear every texture of your voice bounce back from every seat in the house, and the lights-- that haven't been extinguished yet because the staff is still sweeping the lobby to close up shop-- seem to sing back to you in echoes. Brilliant. Twas, brilliant! And I felt brilliant with brilliant champagne still coursing it's way through my body, becuase though they'd run out several hours ago, one very special waiter had kept a reserve, and returned to my mother and me throughout the night to offer us refills. Even after he had packed up the bar, he made sure we got the last glasses of champagne in the house!
Twas' brilliant and I never wake up with a hangover.
Anyway, I just thought my new userpic needed some explanation. What? What was that?
That was Anna Crunk at Lyric!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOT!
Carrie's "drunk at Vogue" and can't get over the fact that "she's drunk at Vogue!!" Well I had a similar experience at the Lyric Opera of Chicago this past Friday night. I sold raffle tickets at mom's Fantasy Gala that she's been planning and sweating over for the past several months. And it was one of the coolest nights ever. The cabaret of singers was alright, though there weren't any big stars this year.
But afterwards there was dinner and dancing, and I tell you, them old folksies can dance! But though the company, food, and entertainment were all delightful, the best part about the night, by far, was on our way back to the dressing room (that they'd given my mother to get ready in before the party started, since she'd been there all day setting up,) we had to go from the lobby through the theater and out one of the side doors off the far left aisle to get backstage. When we first entered the theater, from the lobby, all was dark except for little pinprick lights, like stars, studding the aisles and the chandeliers lining the balconies and walls. That, and there stood the ghost light, in the down stage right corner, in front of the heavy velvet curtain. It was a modest show of white light, but fabulously mysteriour and wonderful in keeping with tradition, (minus the placement that is...Traditional ghost lights stand stage center, the curtain up, and nothing on stage.) But it was magical, and breathtaking, and I was drunk on a bottle and a half of champagne for the night. And it wasn't night anymore, but morning, only you couldn't tell because it was dark in the theater, and there weren't any windows to remind us to go home, it's dark it's late, you ought to be in bed, Cinderella.
I didn't think either one of us, my mother or me, was capable at that moment to drive home. So we sat on the edge of the orchestra pit and look back at the boxes which were filled only an hour or two ago with table after table set with the finest crystal, silver, and linen. (Isn't that funny? They'd serve dinner to one private party in one private-party room, and another private party in the green room, and another in another private room, and a third in the boxes? I luhv it!) The night was like that theater, deep and brilliant, even through the dark. Nothing could swallow that theater up, it's the best in the nation, perhaps internationally.
I jumped into the pit on the conductor's stand and turned around back to the audience. I sang, I don't know what, but so that I filled the whole theater. My mom was surprised enough to burst into giggles and join in. It wasn't long after that before we'd foung our way onto the stage and, shoes off, begun to sing and dance, or just wiggle a little off balance really. But I couldn't get over what it sounded like to fill that theater with my voice. My voice alone. When you sit in the audience and listen to singers like those we heard earlier that night, you wish they'd get over themselves and just where microphones, because we don't get the full impact of their voice. It's just bad accoustics that's all, I thought. Or maybe their energies were running down, but like I want to blast my stereo and have the music flood my body like a tide, I wanted those tenors, sopranos, mezzos to send thrills down my spine. But they had seemed so quiet.
Not from the stage. No, from the stage, the accoustics are best. You can hear every texture of your voice bounce back from every seat in the house, and the lights-- that haven't been extinguished yet because the staff is still sweeping the lobby to close up shop-- seem to sing back to you in echoes. Brilliant. Twas, brilliant! And I felt brilliant with brilliant champagne still coursing it's way through my body, becuase though they'd run out several hours ago, one very special waiter had kept a reserve, and returned to my mother and me throughout the night to offer us refills. Even after he had packed up the bar, he made sure we got the last glasses of champagne in the house!
Twas' brilliant and I never wake up with a hangover.
Anyway, I just thought my new userpic needed some explanation. What? What was that?
That was Anna Crunk at Lyric!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOT!