Mickey Mouse Music

The gas light came on as I pulled out of work last week. Heading to the gas station, I turned on NPR and smirked with happy memories as the announcer of Performance Today introduced Franz Liszt's variation of Felix Mendelssohn's Wedding March from A Midsummer Night's Dream being played by Arcadi Volodos: I saw Volodos perform Prokofiev's Concerto No. 2 in his 2002 NY Philharmonic debut. At the gas station, I turned off the engine and remembered the special and quirky night at Avery Fischer Hall.

I had been listening to Alfred Schnittke's string quartets, and it was originally the fact that Lutoslawski was in the program that drew me, not Prokofiev or Volodos. Sarah, my girlfriend at the time didn't particularly like music, but getting away from PA, a day in NYC, and front row seats at a concert made a good deal for both of us.

From my seat, I had an oblique view of Volodos' profile at the piano. He attacked the keys, and, while I was vaguely aware of his over-expressive style, I was startled. As he performed, I began to sweat and get cold. Realizing that I was leaning in and holding my breath, I eased back into my seat and exhaled. As I did, I caught the eyes of the Concert Master, violinist Glenn Dicterow. Keeping his eyes on me, he lifted an eyebrow and nodded slowly toward Volodos. I didn't know if his look was a question or a statement: Are you in the presence of a great pianist? or, You are! Checking my reactions, I listened steadily to the rest of the piece. I glanced back at Mr. Dicterow who, both brows raised and lips slightly puckered, tapped his bow on his strings in applause.

During the intermission I told Sarah about the look. We decided that if either of us were to nudge the other, it meant that he was looking at us and to immediately look at him.

Recovering from the piano concerto, I had a hard time getting immersed in Lutoslawski's Symphony No. 3. Apparently its ultra-modernism fell flat with Mr. Dicterow as well: midway through the piece, during an extended period of rest for the violins, he caught my eye. I nudged Sarah. He reached into his tuxedo pocket and slyly, slowly drew out a Mickey Mouse key chain which he dangled close to his chest. Seemingly amused that he had our attention, he smirked and rolled his eyes widely to show his boredom. Then he slipped the key chain back in his pocket, pursed his lips and seamlessly re-joined his violin with the rest of the orchestra.