Collecting stars

"Even in your world, that is not what a star IS, only what it is made of."
~ C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Last time I went to the St. Louis Symphony, I met soloist Christine Brewer as she autographed my CD purchase. (She was grateful my name was so easy to spell.) This time, I attended a meet & greet with Concertmaster David Halen at a private, invitation-only party in the Met Bar after the concert.

Halen had just played the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto and was addressing a smallish assembly of fans (the Met Bar isn't very big). There were very few stools and tables, and after I had positioned myself by the balcony railing, I realized I would be BEHIND him, whenever he turned up. An older couple and I got restive after about 20 minutes of waiting, and then realized there were actual seats in the hallway outside the bar - so we went there.

So I was outside the bar when he finally arrived, and it made little or no difference. He was speaking into a microphone, being fed questions by an interviewer - much as he would be doing during the intermission on radio broadcast the following night. He said he plays one solo a year with the SLSO, and it is the pinnacle of his career: "The New York Philharmonic isn't going to invite the St. Louis concertmaster to come solo with them. Their own concertmaster would mutiny." He talked about his interpretation of the Mendelssohn, and why he tries not to repeat pieces too often (it's like giving the same speech over and over; you forget to savor). This was actually the first time in 20 years he had ever repeated a solo he had played before.

Someone asked if he, or anyone he knew, played an "antiquated instrument." Halen gave that some thought and said, "Well, my violin was made in 1753; do you mean older that that? Because of course there are violins dating back to the 15th century." His was made by Guarneri, and he said it is the perfect concertmaster's violin, as opposed to Stradivarius; your Strad is a soloist's violin, with a wider and richer color palette, while the Guarneri is renowned for its sweet singing voice. (I have written before of the singing of Halen's violin.)

 ***

Before the concert, I was nervous and scared: I was going to meet David Halen! I have such a crush on David Halen! Was I dressed well enough? Would I make a complete ass of myself? Would I feel stupid and tongue-tied as I did when meeting Chick Corea? The answer to all was "probably."

But as he spoke, and as I looked aroud the bar and the odd people spilling out of it (classical fans are a motley, unkempt bunch), I realized it was just another public appearance for him. He would forget me as he was releasing my hand. I actually had a connection with Christine Brewer, who is married to a childhood friend of my brother, but the meeting was unmemorable and essentially meaningless.

What is this obsession with meeting the people we admire? Collecting their autographs, collecting their public smiles, having a photograph taken. What does it all add up to? Nothing compared to the way I felt as I listened to her voice, his violin, Chick Corea's keyboards. I could hoard such a meeting in my memory like Sally Simpson treasuring the scar on her face from a Tommy concert. (Tommy, the rock opera.) And very likely my memory would be one of embarrassment because I was SUCH A DORK when I met this person. (The plan was that I would get good at meeting famous people and overcome the dorkdom.)

It was hot in that hallway, crowded in the bar, and I was tired and footsore. I slipped away while Halen was still addressing the masses, before the reception line began.

Comments

[Uncle Al]

Paganini played an instrument crafted by Bartolomeo Guarneri (aka "del Gesu" for its cross visible in through the sound hole. His playing was so perfect and so fiery, Paganini was said to have sold his soul to the Devil for the ability. Robert Johnson fans take note.