The Symphony Hall was a magnificent building constructed once more of marble, at least the reception areas were. The hall itself was acoustically splendid with a rounded construction and a wooden surfacing that lent a deep resonance to the music of the orchestra. And what an orchestra it was. Several of us independently estimated that there were between 130 and 150 people on the stage. The quality of their musicianship and the power of such a grouping was in no doubt whatsoever. They were quite simply the best orchestra I have ever heard. The program was another matter. While it was all very rousing stuff it was also all more of that vaguely militaristic pomp and bombast that we had heard so much of already. It was music that while engaging enough on a visceral level had no cerebral impact at all. The only part of the 75 minute performance that I could recall afterwards was a brief, surreal interlude when the orchestra suddenly launched into a spirited rendition of “Those Were the Days”.
Actually that isn’t completely true. There were two other things about the performance that stick in the memory. One was the woman who gave a brief, spoken introduction to each piece. The introduction was in Korean but she had the most extraordinary voice that I have ever heard. It swooped and dived as if she were overcome with the weight of a great emotion. It filled the entire hall with the feeling that at any moment she would burst into such tears that we might all drown in them. It was truly astounding.
The other thing was both comical and telling.
The hall was full and we had good seats, near to the door by which we had entered, so I witnessed this whole pageant play out. As I have said we were accompanied on the tour by an official cameraman, a tall, gaunt man who glided silently around filming but who always seemed to be there whenever you turned around or glanced to one side. He reminded me of Lurch in the Adams Family. Now, as the performance was beginning he tried to enter the hall with his camera and one of the officials, a woman, turned him away. They both went out into the corridor. Voices were heard. Then the music started, drowning everything else out. I though no more of it, except that he had perhaps met his match.
Then I noticed the door opposite, nearest the stage, open and in walked our man. He walked up onto the stage and in among the musicians and started filming. Officials around the auditorium ignored him.
At first I thought this rather comical but as he continued I started to wonder. Just how important were our guides? What kind of leverage did they have if on their say so a cameraman could do as he was doing? I know that they were showing us the country’s best face but were we, a motley band of tourists really important enough to warrant this? I didn’t think so but it showed the levels of power that were actually vested in the people showing us around.
Actually that isn’t completely true. There were two other things about the performance that stick in the memory. One was the woman who gave a brief, spoken introduction to each piece. The introduction was in Korean but she had the most extraordinary voice that I have ever heard. It swooped and dived as if she were overcome with the weight of a great emotion. It filled the entire hall with the feeling that at any moment she would burst into such tears that we might all drown in them. It was truly astounding.
The other thing was both comical and telling.
The hall was full and we had good seats, near to the door by which we had entered, so I witnessed this whole pageant play out. As I have said we were accompanied on the tour by an official cameraman, a tall, gaunt man who glided silently around filming but who always seemed to be there whenever you turned around or glanced to one side. He reminded me of Lurch in the Adams Family. Now, as the performance was beginning he tried to enter the hall with his camera and one of the officials, a woman, turned him away. They both went out into the corridor. Voices were heard. Then the music started, drowning everything else out. I though no more of it, except that he had perhaps met his match.
Then I noticed the door opposite, nearest the stage, open and in walked our man. He walked up onto the stage and in among the musicians and started filming. Officials around the auditorium ignored him.
At first I thought this rather comical but as he continued I started to wonder. Just how important were our guides? What kind of leverage did they have if on their say so a cameraman could do as he was doing? I know that they were showing us the country’s best face but were we, a motley band of tourists really important enough to warrant this? I didn’t think so but it showed the levels of power that were actually vested in the people showing us around.
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