The best thing about living in Vienna is not the architecture (which is impressive), or even the incessant offering of culture in the forms of plays, concerts, operas, etc. Don't get me wrong, they are great, and never to be taken for granted. But the best thing for musicophiles like me is that you can unexpectedly find yourself exposed to fantastic music, without fanfare, without trappings like concert halls, lights and organized seating.
Until today, my favourite moment in Vienna had been early one Saturday morning in summer, when two men, dressed in very formal suits and obviously still up since the previous night, came to sit at a little table in front of the restaurant below my apartment. One of the men then pulled his saxophone out of its case and started to play the most amazing jazz I have ever heard. I simply sat in my windowsill, soaking in the morning sun and the beautiful music bouncing off the walls of my narrow little street, and nodding to some of my neighbours doing exactly the same thing. Pure and unadulterated joy in the music and the moment.
Tonight I can add a second unexpected and marvellous musical interlude. On my way back from the supermarket, I took a shortcut through the House of Music, a sort of museum / sound experience. The ground floor consists of an atrium of sorts, with a glass ceiling 3 stories above, a little canteen, a seating area with bistro tables, chairs and plants, and a grand piano to one side. Usually, this piano is unmanned, and the space is often used in the evenings for concerts of all kinds, and for receptions and other events. However, this evening as I passed by, there sat an unassuming man of a certain age, dressed in a casual sports coat. Unremarkable in any way, except for the music: the man was playing classical pieces with fluid ease and a completely relaxed manner. He flowed from one piece to another without a second of interruption, everything from memory of course. It had a feeling of someone who just sat down to play for himself, for the joy of it. Well, I stopped in my tracks, sat down at one of the tables, closed my eyes and just listened. I sat there, alone but for the pianist, for about 20 minutes. While the rendition was not note-perfect, this did not matter at all: imagine sitting in a room with fabulous acoustics, listening to a great musician playing from his heart, just the two of you.
No matter how good a recording, nothing makes as great an impression as live music. For me, piano is the perfect instrument, and I can listen to it for hours on any day. But in this situation, everything came together for the ultimate musical moment: there was no other sound, no awareness of my surroundings, no time, no thought, everything except the music dropped away, just... stopped. Twenty minutes of pure feeling, of soaring and plunging along with the music.
The music surrounds me, flows within me. I am the music.
No comments:
Post a Comment