Tanglememories
Tanglewood
Last Sunday I drove up to Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in Lenox, Massachusetts. Marvelous maestro James Levine conducted a Mozart program of the Posthorn Serenade and the Requiem Mass. Splendid. Or as my late friend Ted would say, su-fucking-perb! Ted and I often went there together or, very likely with a group of faculty and friends. Part of the joy is the pre-concert picnic on the vast lawn...wine, sandwiches, wine, brie, wine, stilton, wine, grapes, wine.
For me, summer would not be summer without Tanglewood. I wish I could have gone to every concert there. Alas, impossible. My first was in 1962, when I was twenty. I saw Charles Munch lead a program of French works that included Debussy's La Mer. Other memorable concerts were the American premiere of Britten's War Requiem in 1963, under Erich Leinsdorf, and programs of Mahler symphonies under the baton of Leonard Bernstein, especially the Second and the Ninth. The Beethoven Ninth is a tradition nearly every summer. Levine opened with a magnificent one this season. I remember a particularly glorious one under Christoph Eschenbach in 1994. That afternoon trumpeter-friend Dave Procaccini and I partook of a maximal repast, eaten from real china, and with multiple wines. Ah, the wine of music, the music of wine!
For those Sunday concerts, it was always obbligato to stop somewhere for dinner on the way back to Rhode Island. Among the favored post-Tanglewood eateries used to be Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, Log Cabin in Holyoke, and Publick House in Sturbridge. Five years ago today I did such a Sunday-concert pilgrimage with students and adults.
Sunshine is perfect for Tanglewood, yet rain cannot mar the experience, though lawn picnickers listening from the grass might balk. After a picnic-table lunch, I always prefer to hear the concert from a seat in the shed, not the lawn, so I can concentrate on the music and see the orchestra. Occasionally birds fly in to provide their impromptu counterpoint to the symphonic strains. They are welcome. Last Sunday the shed was completely filled. It holds 6,000. More than that can be accomodated on the vast lawn. Some folks dream of union with God in Heaven in a putative afterlife. Not I. I believe in neither. I dream about summer Sundays in Tanglewood with friends, food, wine, Mozart, Beethoven, and a convivial dinner-coda without finale.
Frank, Ted, Tom, Howard. Tanglewood, 1973.
GD and sandwich at Tanglewood, 2003.
Brother Richard and Mamma Parsons, 2001
Nick and Bianca at Tanglewood, August 2003.
Inside Tanglewood shed with Boston Symphony Orchestra.
(Cross-posted in abbreviated form to classical_music)
Last Sunday I drove up to Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in Lenox, Massachusetts. Marvelous maestro James Levine conducted a Mozart program of the Posthorn Serenade and the Requiem Mass. Splendid. Or as my late friend Ted would say, su-fucking-perb! Ted and I often went there together or, very likely with a group of faculty and friends. Part of the joy is the pre-concert picnic on the vast lawn...wine, sandwiches, wine, brie, wine, stilton, wine, grapes, wine.
For me, summer would not be summer without Tanglewood. I wish I could have gone to every concert there. Alas, impossible. My first was in 1962, when I was twenty. I saw Charles Munch lead a program of French works that included Debussy's La Mer. Other memorable concerts were the American premiere of Britten's War Requiem in 1963, under Erich Leinsdorf, and programs of Mahler symphonies under the baton of Leonard Bernstein, especially the Second and the Ninth. The Beethoven Ninth is a tradition nearly every summer. Levine opened with a magnificent one this season. I remember a particularly glorious one under Christoph Eschenbach in 1994. That afternoon trumpeter-friend Dave Procaccini and I partook of a maximal repast, eaten from real china, and with multiple wines. Ah, the wine of music, the music of wine!
For those Sunday concerts, it was always obbligato to stop somewhere for dinner on the way back to Rhode Island. Among the favored post-Tanglewood eateries used to be Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, Log Cabin in Holyoke, and Publick House in Sturbridge. Five years ago today I did such a Sunday-concert pilgrimage with students and adults.
Sunshine is perfect for Tanglewood, yet rain cannot mar the experience, though lawn picnickers listening from the grass might balk. After a picnic-table lunch, I always prefer to hear the concert from a seat in the shed, not the lawn, so I can concentrate on the music and see the orchestra. Occasionally birds fly in to provide their impromptu counterpoint to the symphonic strains. They are welcome. Last Sunday the shed was completely filled. It holds 6,000. More than that can be accomodated on the vast lawn. Some folks dream of union with God in Heaven in a putative afterlife. Not I. I believe in neither. I dream about summer Sundays in Tanglewood with friends, food, wine, Mozart, Beethoven, and a convivial dinner-coda without finale.
Frank, Ted, Tom, Howard. Tanglewood, 1973.
GD and sandwich at Tanglewood, 2003.
Brother Richard and Mamma Parsons, 2001
Nick and Bianca at Tanglewood, August 2003.
Inside Tanglewood shed with Boston Symphony Orchestra.
(Cross-posted in abbreviated form to classical_music)