Weekend Orchestra Guilt

You ever have one of those dreams where you’re back in high school and you have neglected to study for a test, or don’t know what your schedule is, or something like that? In my case, for whatever reason, such dreams are often orchestra-related. In this one, I was back in the orchestra, but I was trying to figure out an excuse not to play, because I haven’t actually practiced in over fifteen years, and I was pretending my wrist was sprained, but our orchestra director had figured out I was lying and was yelling at me.

I am contentedly listening to this right now, which is entirely predictable (both that I am listening to it, and that I am doing so with great contentment). I was getting worried today about my tendency to get into ruts, though, whether they are Strauss ruts or something else, like Handel or Mozart. I watched two relatively unfamiliar operas this week, Eugene Onegin and Cherubini’s Medea. I enjoyed both – there is something to be said to listening to music that I have not heard a thousand times before – but I always struggle to balance my enjoyment of the new with my non-enjoyment of being unable to formulate an opinion about it yet. Isn’t that silly?

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