From the New Yorker:
Don’t clap too soon, wait till they’re done, don’t clap too soon, wait till they’re done, don’t clap—
So this is the Symph-Tacular Winter Series.
Four concerts times two seats plus parking equals . . .
Jesus. I could’ve gotten something I wanted.
Cool piece. Read on here.
I bet it annoys them when he’s all, “Play soft, play soft, look at my stick getting very low. now play loud look at my stick way up here!”
If I were in the orchestra, I’d probably roll my eyes when he did that. Just enough so the audience could be, like, “That guy gets it.”
Are they done? Do I clap now?
They’re not done.
The violin section seems to be where you find the most attractive women.
But are they just “orchestra attractive”?
If I were involved with one of the violinists, would I have to learn a lot of stuff about violin? Like, if she asked, “How did I play tonight?,” would I have to have a specific, informed answer? Or could I just say, “Great!”
Or maybe, “Honey, you were awesome, as always. You should totally be first chair. Babe, I know, it’s so political.”