On Sunday, it was Bartok Day at church. (As in Bela Bartok, crack American composer, and sometime Summer resident of Saranac Lake.) Most Sundays, I sit down at Bela Bartok’s piano (!) and play the service all by my lonesome. (Actually, it was his wife’s piano, but let’s not split hairs. Surely his hands touched those keys.) This past Sunday, we had lots of awesome musicians playing Bartok pieces in honor of The Master.
Anyhow. On to the story. I asked a musician friend if there was a community band or orchestra. I thought maybe I might like to pick up my seriously rusty high school clarinet skills again. She said that yes, there indeed was a community orchestra. She wrote down the leader’s name, and I thought I’d hunt her up next week or something. Maybe. Got the info, I’ll be thinking about it, end of story. Not so fast! Totally unbeknownst to me, somebody talks to somebody else, wheels turn, the second someone evidently knows who I am, the leader goes by my partner’s office the next day, and sends the clarinet score and a rehearsal schedule home to me. I had to smile at the small-town-telegraph element of the whole thing. And wow … Talk about a recruitment policy!
Interesting side note – When we were leaving the city, I looked at my clarient, and thought, “Eh, I hardly ever touch the thing. I guess I might as well keep it. Maybe there’ll be a community band or something.” And here I am! Meanwhile, said clarinet is in the storage unit 40 miles away in Plattsburgh … and there’s a rehearsal Thursday. Ah, well. In the time being, I can at least listen to the CD and pick out my part. Sort of. I’ve been listening to a London Symphony recording of the thing all night.
One thing I can say for it – there’s lots of notes, and they go by very quickly!