Brian is possibly the last of my friends still lamentably unexposed to
the considerable charms of Thomas Quasthoff.  To appreciate the following
fully, he needs to be identified as a classically-trained cellist who
switched to (he is going to kill me for this) mild-mannered but innovative
rock, helping to start and still playing with a group, called "Rosin
Coven."

In his other reincarnation, as a liberated Liberate Technologies techie,
Brian is now working in London and he yielded to my insistent advice to
attend the LSO Barbican concert last night, Kent Nagano conducting Mahler,
featuring Quasthoff, and the Bruckner No. 3.

Being a proud member of the small, dedicated group of writers sworn not
to bring up appearance every time we mention Quasthoff, I am especially
pleased with Brian's surprise on that account.

   First off, what's the deal with Quasthoff being a thalidomide kid,
   and no one mentioning it? I mean, it's cool and all, and I wouldn't
   like it to be a freak show, but do you critic types have some kind
   of guilt that causes you not to mention it?

   Beyond that.  Barbican is an odd hall.  I had no idea about the 70's
   planned architecture thing.  It was nice enough, but I opted for the
   circle, when the orchestra floor was well canted and far better seats.
   I must have some curse about sitting next to noisy folk.  The entire
   audience was well behaved -- the moment of silence for Queen Mum was
   an exquisite moment of silence, giving the concept justice -- except
   for the fidgeting woment to the left, and the sleeping man to the
   right.  Perhaps some form of payback for my constant musical fugues,
   but I would never turn pages during a performance.  Or buying the
   tickets from a fellow in line, instead of the box office.  Not very
   British.  Face value, though, which I thought was British enough.
   The extra moment was someone clapping right at the end of the first
   lieder, 4 big enthusiastic claps, not the little dainty kind.  The
   silence after that was a different kind, not a queen mum kind, a sort
   mixed between anger and embarassment.

   Quasthoff.  I was expecting to be entranced by the power, but it was
   the gentle lyricism that got me.  It was great.  Hard to be critical
   about about.  The exact phrases, the calculated moments of vibrato,
   the soaring.

   What broke my heart, however, was the Bruckner.  "Jesus wept," some
   fellow in a resturant said, and I wept.  The winds were awesome.
   Inexact in some of their starting notes, but the power of the horns
   was undeniable.  Nagano's reading was post-Beethoven, post-modern.
   A fascinating blend of the earnest and the ironic.  The big moments
   were HUGE.

   The string section was precise, the bases were strong.  The last
   movement has these pauses where the string section has sweeping,
   moving lines that stop right in the middle, creating these dead
   moments.  At the very end of the fourth movement, no one knew if it
   was just another pause, or the actual end.  And the first movement
   -- it was forever.

   Sigh. A great night.

   -brianb

Janos Gereben/SF
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