Mozart never sounded better. Southwestern College students never sounded worse. On an evening of sublime music and simian behavior by many of the classless SWC students in the audience, seven professional musicians from the San Diego Symphony brought to life music students never heard before. Some students left the intimate performance still without hearing it.
Chamber Music for Winds and Strings, part of the fall 2013 music recital series, launched into a classic by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart powered by rich strings and an ethereally enchanting flute that radiated throughout the room. Mozart’s 300-year-old “Minuet” was lively and whimsical, sounding as if it could have been used in an old Disney princess movie or featured at a ball hundreds of years ago.
Listening to a historical movement that shaped modern music in the confines of a SWC rehearsal room was odd. It is a gift professional musicians expose younger students to classical music. Too bad so many music appreciation students clearly did not appreciate the music.
Quartet members swayed gently as they played effortlessly. Some audience members appeared enraptured by the music, relishing every note. Others, however, seemed determined to ruin it for everyone else.
Whispering through Mozart’s “Rondo,” students distracted flute player Mary Tuck to such a degree that she muddled a note in her otherwise perfect performance. The audacity of students behaving rudely began to attract the attention of the other musicians.
While clarinet player Theresa Tunnicliff explained the history behind the next Mozart piece the musicians were going to perform, a small group of students arrogantly laughed and chatted. Surrounding audience members began to grow restless and cast irritated glances as the musicians glared at the students. Despite the noise, the musicians decided to play on.
“Allegro” from “Quintet in A for Clarinet and Strings” by Mozart featured the string instruments that sounded morose. Long notes and a rich melody played backdrop to the clarinet weaving through the piece like an intricate dance. Musicians ebbed and flowed while playing, their bodies moving like sails in the wind with the fall and rise of each note they gracefully played.
As the volume and power of the piece began to grow, so did the rude behavior. A man began loudly talking on his cell phone with his hand covering one ear to block out Mozart’s prodigious work as if it was an annoyance. He was the only annoyance.
Following a piece by Maurice Ravel, harpist Julie Smith Phillips explained the intricacies of playing her instrument, a double action chromatic harp. She showed audience members the seven pedals placed in the back of her harp and briefly explained the color-coding of her seemingly countless strings.
Claude Debussy’s “Danses pour Harpe” immediately energized the room with the tingling melodies of the harp. It freed imaginations to wander to the likes of Bambi. Ethereal and sprightly, the piece danced and left audience members spellbound—at least those who were paying attention.
As the music slowed, it sounded like it was dreamily falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. It was astonishing to see the petite Phillips slowly rock her massive harp while her feet busily adjusted the pitch of the notes. Phillips was brilliant in every way.
As the musicians rested their instruments, audience members clapped softly so as not to chase away the magic that had filled the air only moments before. It was a transcendent performance that permeated the audience. Even some of the rude students seemed to leave the room impressed. Maybe they will listen to classical music again. And maybe they will behave next time.
