This post and the Trio Notes archives can be read at:

   http://www.serafinotrio.com/serafino/trionotes.html

The Serafino on the road!  Our first tour, a two-day affair, brought us
to the Spanish resort communitiy of Javea, halfway between Valencia and
Alicante, for the inaugural performance of the Javea Festival, to be held
in the 14th-century Church of St.  Bartolome on 14 July.

The trip started on a tiny regional aircraft, about 40 seats and
two propellers.  I was snuggled next to my cello, proud bearer of its
own ticket, which actually cost more than my own.  Poor Jennifer, an
airplane-hater, sat uncomfortably across the aisle, reacting with a start
to every bump and dip of the plane, and Suzy, also never happy on an
airplane, sat a few rows ahead accompanied by her college-age daughter
Hannah.  The Serafino's entourage for this trip also included the composer
Carl Mansker, a bearded American composer who is one of the lovliest people
on this earth.

Presently we arrived in Alicante and were being whisked in two cars to
Javea, passing the saw-like sierra, the rugged mountains lining Spain's
southeastern coastline.  We arrived in Javea mid-day and checked into our
beachside hotel, had a bite and went over to the church to rehearse a bit.
Our hosts, composer Jose Luis Castillo and his wife Rosa scurried about
kicking out air-conditioner repairmen, finding music stands, and being
generally helpful as we started playing.  As I always do, I clapped a few
times on the stage to test the acoustic.  It was like clapping a pillow.
Absolutely no resonance at all.  One of the driest spaces I have ever
been in outside a recording studio.  Jose Luis explained, somewhat
apologetically, that the church, dating from the 14th century, was built
with a particular stone that is found only in Javea and Ibiza, oddly
enough, that absorbs sound instead of reflecting it.  Most churches have
too much resonance.  This one was as dry as the Spanish countryside.  We
experimented with our sitting positions, a little closer or further from
the piano, because we simply couldn't hear each other.  We told ourselves
not to force, but it was hard getting used to it.  Fortunately, the sound
was better in the audience than it was on stage, so we just had to trust
and do the best we could.

We were just getting rolling when the priest of the church came in and told
us apologetically that there was a service in the church and we had to get
the hell out of there, as it were.  So we got, and went back to the hotel
to relax a little bit and wait until the 10:30 starting time for the
concert.

The concert itself got off to a bit of a rocky start.  Bad lights,
cold air, first performance of all the works, a long travel day, and
the ridiculously late starting time made for a somewhat un-concentrated
Serafino for the first piece, the great E-major trio of Mozart, K. 542.
Some wrong notes, some sloppiness in ensemble, strange things that had
never happened in rehearsal.  At one point one of us, no names, actually
spaced out an entrance, which was actually sort of funny.  The audience
seemed pleased, however, and a fellow in the front row bellowed a "Bravo"
which made us smile at him and hope that he peoples the earth with his
offspring.  The Mansker piece, called Dansa y Fuga, went splendidly, and
the sharp, Bartok-influenced harmonies and off-beat rhythms and delicate
string writing and wham-bam finish elicited more bravos and sent us off
stage in a good mood for our intermission.

After a couple of cigarettes and some water, and some silliness by this
reporter backstage to lighten the mood, we returned to the stage and did
our first performance of the towering trio by Maurice Ravel.  Oh, what a
magnificent piece.  We forgot about the bad acoustic, the airplane ride,
the late hour, the offstage tomfoolery, and we made magic.  Is there
music more beautiful than the first movement of that piece? If so I'm not
familiar with it.  (Watch our mp3.com page in the next few days and you'll
be able to hear that very performance!) We were transported into another
place, a very French, very soft and intimate place where time stops and
nothing exists except the floating violin lines and the harmonies that
only Ravel could find.

But finally it had to end, with the string harmonics flying like swallows
into the cool air, and everybody clapped and we smiled a lot and Carl
took our picture and lots of people shook our hands and finally, finally,
we went to the restaurant to have supper at almost 1 in the morning.  We
were joined by MCML listmember John G.  Deacon, a Javea resident and great
Serafino supporter who has lent us an enormous hand introducing us to
record companies and offering excellent advice and help in our development.
It was wonderful to put a face to all those emails, and John was great
company and maintained the twinkle in his eye dispite the late hour.  We
would have liked to spend more time with him but alas the next day got busy
and we'll have to wait till next time, or until he and his wife decide to
come visit us on Mallorca which we hope is soon.

The next day we decided to stay the whole day and return the following
day, and we lolled about on the beach, had a delicious gin'n'tonic at a
beachside bar, bought some postcards, went for a swim, and simply enjoyed
being on the road.  It was a rich, fun experience, we learned a lot in the
concert, we met some wonderful people, and we can only hope that we start
getting lots more concerts like this one so we can take our show on the
road more often.

We'll be repeating this program on 4 August here in Mallorca at the Deia
Festival.  Hope to see you there.

David Runnion
http://www.serafinotrio.com
http://mp3.com/serafinotrio