the future

This evening, after a full day of practicing and working at the print shop, I went to a concert at Martinskirche in the old part of Basel, next to the Blau Haus and the Butt-Knight, whom  you may remember from my first walkabout in the city.

The concert was by a historical performance group called L'Arpeggiata.  Their website is worth a visit, though it's entirely in French; very high-quality recordings of their music play as you look through the site, and the pictures are quite nice.  There wasn't much that I could see of the group tonight, being in the back and peering through two pillars (one of which had a watering can painted onto it!) but still the performance was very interesting.  It was an hour and a half long, no intermission.  In fact, there were no breaks at all between pieces; the concert theme was Via Crucis, and each short-ish piece by different composers brought you (musically) through the Crucifixion (much more pleasant than it sounds).  I initially wanted to go to see this guy, Philippe Jaroussky.  Here he is with L'Arpeggiata:

Unfortunately, he couldn't make it tonight, I don't know why, I still don't understand German (disappointing, I know).  It didn't matter, in the end, the group was so good.  Similar to the video, the ensemble tonight consisted of two theorbos (those crazy-looking lutes with very long necks), harpsichord, baroque guitar, baroque violin, harp, and two instruments I had never seen before: a psalter, which is like a cimbalom I had seen played in Gypsy music, it's a type of hammer-dulcimer at which you stand and tap upon the strings with two sticks looking like wooden spoons; and a cornett, not to be confused with a cornet.  The cornett looks like a weird, crooked oboe, but it has a mouthpiece like a trumpet, and definitely sounds like a brass instrument, even though it's made of ebony, or ivory.  An amazing sound!  The wikipedia article is interesting.

Anyhow, the place was packed.  PACKED.  The church is enormous, includes a balcony, and there was literally standing room only.  Student tickets were 15f, "unnumbered seats" were 35f (on the sides of the church and behind pillars--students got to sit here as well), and the good seats were 45f.  I'm sure there were 300 people there.  After the concert, and upon finishing my Cheever book, I can't help but think with regret on my dear home country (except maybe not now, so much, with all the lame-ass violence and posturing in the political arena) and how much I miss it: being a native speaker, the open spaces, living in a house, being closer to family, making jokes with my friends; and how, if I'm serious about my career, I'm probably not going to move back any time soon. 

In all ways but socially, my life here is practically ideal.  I love working in the print shop, it is so close to my house and the work is satisfying and fulfilling.  I practice several times a day, and am working on music that is challenging.  If I am lucky I will develop a busy schedule of concert work, with groups that are good.  (That probably has as much to do with how much I practice as it does with luck.)  I knew this might happen, I expected it.  But part of me wishes it didn't have to be like this.  I don't want to never come home.

In other thoughts, I noticed that *many* of the instrumentalists in L'Arpeggiata have degrees from the Schola.  I had ruefully entertained the thought (today, even) that I am enjoying my school-free life so much that I should figure out how to just take lessons, and then keep up the rest of my timelessness.  Of course, those are just the thoughts that have kept me in musical mediocrity my whole life.  I really should try to get this degree, and try to make a better future for myself.  Maybe it will buy me a way back home after all.