I took W to the Walt Disney Concert Hall this afternoon to see the LA Philharmonic perform a matinee concert. They performed the Mozart Haffner Symphony, the Haydn Trumpet Concerto, the Mozart 4th Horn Concerto, and the Haydn 104th “London” Symphony.
It was my first LA Philharmonic concert since I was a grad student at Caltech — a very, very long time ago. An amazingly long time, but I’ve simply been too busy, and I have music in my iTunes library, anyway. I never even went to hear the Chicago Symphony or Opera, and I never went to the LA Philharmonic or the LA Opera in the years since we returned to Los Angeles. So, this was a huge concert for me.
It was also my first concert in the Disney Concert Hall. My last concerts were at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, when the Philharmonic shared the building with the LA Opera.
The Disney hall seems almost smaller and more intimate — and maybe it is. Or maybe it’s just the design, with the stadium-seating arrangements, so that every row gets a good view of the orchestra stage. No more frustration in sitting behind some tall guy, unless that guy is some spectacularly tall professional basketball player. And the acoustics seem similarly clear and crisp.
The performances of all four Classical pieces were sharp throughout, and I won’t bother reviewing them. W's favorite piece was the Haydn Trumpet Concerto, while mine was the London Symphony.
However, what was also remarkable was the side-show in the seats around us.
We were in the west terrace, E74 and E76. There was one row behind us, and we were the third and fourth seats from the aisle to our right.
During the first and second movements of the London Symphony, an elderly couple in the row behind us, in the seats adjacent the aisle, started whispering to each other. The wife flipped through the program and commented “this must be the Haydn” or words to that effect. Her husband kept whispering something back to her. The problem was, despite his attempt at whispering, his voice was a loud, deep, growl, so I could hear him, if not clearly, as could the older guy sitting to my right. I kept glancing back at the old couple, as did the guy to my right, trying to give them the hint to keep quiet, and maybe it worked a little. Finally, the somewhat younger man behind me gave them a quick, urgent “Shh!”
They left at the end of the second movement.
I thought we’d be able to finish out the concert in peace.
But no.
Then, the old guy sitting at the aisle in our row — on the other side of the old guy sitting immediately to my right — took out a small snack package of trail mix (the kind you buy in an airport newsstand prior to boarding your plane), opened it, and proceeded to eat it during the third movement of Haydn’s London Symphony. The sound of the crackling plastic bag was loudly disturbing, even when he tried to keep it quiet.
He ate a raisin, then a nut, then a raisin… After the first couple of trail mix bits, I thought he’d stop, figuring he was just desperately hungry, but he kept going. This wasn’t a desperate urge to fight off a hunger pang. No, he decided it was snack time!
Once I was aware of the crackling plastic bag, I couldn’t ignore it or pretend not to be aware of it. Every time he reached in to take another piece to eat, I was aware of it. It was ruining my enjoyment of the music.
I wondered if I should reach across the guy sitting immediately to my right to tap the guy at the aisle and ask him to stop, but I didn’t want to disturb the guy to my right.
But then I heard that guy, immediately to my right, mutter in exasperation, “Jesus!”
When the third movement ended, he asked the guy at the aisle to put away his trail mix, which the guy at the aisle did, and we were finally able to listen to the fourth movement in peace.
When concert ended and people were leaving, I thanked the guy next to me for putting an end to the trail mix snacking. He expressed disbelief that such a thing actually happened next to him.
Despite all this, W stayed awake throughout the entire concert and seemed to enjoy it. As we walked around the music center outside, waiting for the parking garage to clear of cars, I told him how I never had such cultural opportunities when I was a kid his age.
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Tomorrow, I start teaching the Personal Fitness Merit Badge in W’s Boy Scout troop.