Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony
“Frisson”; literally meaning the shivers or the shakes, this word has been used to describe the body’s autonomic reaction to music–one may experience goosebumps or chills on account of the melodies and rhythms.
On February 16th, the Davidson Symphony Orchestra performed Saint-Saën’s Organ Symphony in our very own Duke Family Performance Hall. At the entrance, ushers in all black greeted the crowd and held out programs for the audience as they filtered in. Once inside, the house lights were low, drawing your focus immediately to the stage. To make sure that we had a proper view, the group of students that I sat with chose seats around the fourth row. As we waited, we watched the performers tune their instruments and practice challenging sections; then, we waved and sent our well-wishes to those that we knew amongst them.
The night began with a lighter piece, prominently featuring the violin. As it continued, the songs seemed to grow in strength and presence, with the addition of the organ shaking the Performance Hall. The skill of the Symphony Orchestra, featuring Dr. Robak, and the panache of the conductor (our own Dr. Pyle) allowed the audience to completely immerse themselves in the music; the percussion’s vibrations, the basses’ drawl, the violins’ melodies, and the brightness of the woodwinds and brass sections were felt by the audience, both emotionally and physically.
When considering a musical performance, perhaps the most overt goal is enjoyment–that of both the audience and those performing the piece. Hours of practice and rehearsals culminate in an event designed to showcase their efforts to a willing audience of family and friends that wish to commend their diligence and applaud their talent. Another goal is education and awareness; just simply showcasing the music helps the listeners widen their cultural horizons and maybe, with enough visits, they may learn the intricacies of each instrument, of each conductor, of each piece. In regards to both, this performance was a success.
For generations, the mark of a truly cultured person was whether or not they attended the opera, or the ballet, or the theater, the symphony, etcetera. Although these artistic feats of culture are much more accessible today, there still exists this air of refinement about them. As I child, I was raised in a household that enjoyed classical music: as a toddler, I watched Baby Einstein (sensory videos that were accompanied by Mozart scores); as an elementary-school student, I listened as my dad blasted the 1812 Overture on his newly-bought speaker system from Best Buy proclaiming that in college this was the score he would play to signal that his party guests should retire for the night; and, the most formative, as a middle-schooler, one of my mom’s best friend was the conductor of the Spartanburg Philharmonic. Sarah Ioannides, now the Music Director of Symphony Tacoma, was the mother of one of my sister’s closest friends at the time, and therefore, our families often found ourselves together. I knew her to be a very elegant woman–graceful in her movements and softly-spoken; but when she was conducting a symphony, she was an absolute tour de force. Because her daughter and my sister were at the age where they could barely tolerate sitting still and being quiet for over 10 minutes, I would accompany my mom to the Philharmonic. They were our little “nights of culture”, as we called them, and once my own mom was brought up on stage to conduct–her baton of choice: an old plastic fairy wand of mine.
Because of this happen-stance, I have the privilege of being well-acquainted with the intimacies of classical music. In fact, Saint-Saëns’ “Carnival of the Animals: The Swan” and his “Introduction and Rondo capriccioso in A Minor, Op. 28” were some of my most listened to pieces prior to the performance, along with Debussy’s “Clair de Lune, L. 32” and anything Jean–Yves Thibaudet. But being enveloped by the music in a concert hall allows the music to reach the audience better than any paltry phone speaker can; when you sit transfixed with goose-bumps prickling your arms, the music speaks to you and becomes truly alive.
