Conductor crushes and clubs from the outside

The five pounds we needed to pay as students for a classical concert were a wonderful offer. It was no wonder we tried to use this chance as often as we could. This time, they played Tchaikovsky and an almost unbearable Henze cello piece for us. We had ourselves some moshing bassists and old blokes banging the timbals, and after a waltzy Strauss evergreen, the principal timpanist, reigning lord of drums and thunder, was officially and with all honours sent into well-deserved retirement after bloody 41 years in the Philharmony to share the rest of his days in calm with his “long-suffering wife”. The auditorium exploded into applause, and I wanted to a) hug the old man and b) take over his instrument. For the glowing final of a brutal apocalyptic Stravinsky, he, for one last time, walloped his friends to the rhythm of the hyperborean conductor making love to his conductor´s stick, and I was just one step away from stage diving. Continue reading