I might not can put my finger on it, but there’s something sexy about being almost late for the fine arts.  They will start without you.  They will lock the doors on you.  They will not care what your excuse was.  So it’s nervewrackingly thrilling to see the clock tick to T-minus-whatever and then run to the car, checking your watch the whole way.  Taking your date by the hand and clicking down the sidewalk at that unique pace that could only mean you’re just a little late for a show.  “It’s simply impossible to run in these heels.”  Any slower and you might miss it; any faster and you might ruin the look.  Unless it’s the movies (or the FBI is involved), there’s no real reason for people in beautiful clothes to move any faster.  Taking my seat right as the doors close always makes me feel just a bit Hollywood.

I know the people administering the Alabama Symphony Orchestra and other fine arts will frown on that bad example, but I can’t help myself.  In that same vein, I have to confess that I was listening to Rage Against the Machine right before and after I saw The Orchestra Rocks show tonight.  Specifically, Freedom before (anger is a gift) and Killing in the Name after.  I’ve had Rage cycling in my truck since Monday.  Possibly not the cleanest palate for a show involving flute and cello.

Then again… the first thing I noticed as I took my seat was the brilliant blue electric guitar centerstage at the Alys Stephens Center.  Right out in front of the orchestra.  Possibly as out of place as I sometimes feel driving through Mountain Brook.  Well-equipped with a Vox amplifier and a whole mess of electronic pedals.  It’s worth noting that no other instrument on that stage needed an outlet.  This particular instrument of the devil was owned and played by D. J. Sparr.

I barely found my seat when they started the first piece.  Folks, radio classical music in Birmingham just plain sucks.  I went through a phase as a pre-teen when I listened to a lot of classical music.  But that was before I discovered the Beatles and Kurt Cobain.  Nowadays, I don’t listen to anything resembling classical much at all.  But anyone in Birmingham – and I mean anyone – has missed out if you haven’t been to hear the ASO live at its Alys Stephens home.

I’ve seen only a few shows there over the years, but the acoustics always blow my mind.  I am typically a low-fidelity kind of guy.  I like Jackson Pollock.  The Sex Pistols.  The Blair Witch Project.  The acoustics at Alys Stephens, however, are out-of-this-world.  Mind-altering.  Game-changing.  You haven’t experienced everything interesting to do in Birmingham until you’ve heard something interesting performed here.

I’m sure there are no bad seats, but I was in the mezzanine and the only way I can describe the sound is that the music feels like it can’t possibly be coming from in front of you.  It feels like it’s in your ears.  Or from barely outside your ears.  Or maybe beamed directly into your head.  I even spoke briefly with David Crutcher on technical staff about it – what an amazing job.

I am now completely convinced that there is some sort of interplay in producing music which may always completely elude a microphone and speakers.  Certain delicate inflections of notes just can’t be reproduced with my truck stereo.  Or even by my house speakers.  And I couldn’t capture that same “live” sound at home short of commissioning the ASO for my next birthday party (May).  It’s a significant experience just to close your eyes and listen.  You don’t even have to try and follow the interior logic of any particular piece.  You can just roll all the separate ingredients around in your head like a good wine or a good pizza with everything.  Every individual flavor is so good that the whole almost can’t help but be terrific.

The sound, however, isn’t the only reason to buy a ticket.  It’s a show – it’s entertaining.  As an aside, I watched the movie Slap Shot again this week for the first time since I was a kid.  One of the best sports movies ever.  It explores the tension between a team’s just playing “pure” hockey versus “goon” hockey with lots of violence and fights – but which usually sells more tickets.  I’m sure there were purists in the audience that saw the guitar on stage tonight and almost lost their lemons, but the guest composer – a charismatic Neal Gittleman – reminded us at the beginning of the performance that the point for this show was to choose pieces and composers who were specifically influenced by pop culture.

I appreciate some significant pop influence – that alone would have sold me.  The musicians don’t have to put foil on their knuckles or stage brawls between the brass and woodwinds to get my attention.  Instead, Gittleman noted that only one of the four composers on the program was dead – Frank Zappa, who doesn’t really feel dead – and how rare it is for an orchestra to perform so many recent works in one show.  In fact, two of the composers – Michael Daugherty and Alabama native Phillip Ratliff (who the program says is currently working with Roger van Fleteren of the Ballet) – were in the audience.  So cool.  In introducing his piece, Ratliff even admitted, “I’ve always liked disco,” and called his piece, Travolta, “a disco fantasy, I guess.”  Mr. Ratliff, you had me at hello.

Furthermore, I may be confessing to being a dork, but I can only be as much of a dork as Daugherty admits to, since he composed my favorite piece of the evening: The Red Cape Tango from his Metropolis Symphony.  A piece which Daugherty told the audience was about the death of Superman, all while finding a way to mention both Star Trek and Mr. Spock.  Mr. Daugherty, you had me at Supe-.

I really liked these introductions from the composers.  Even the best newspaper article of all time suggests that great art needs an appropriate frame.  The best moment of the night, for me, was the intro before the performance of the Red Cape Tango.  Gittleman first performed a chant which was a central theme in the piece.  Then, a percussionist played this same theme on the chimes.  Finally, they asked the audience to join in singing along with the chimes.  Daugherty also had the musicians highlight particular bassoon and bass themes prior to playing the piece in full.  All this prep-time allowed me to pre-think and more fully appreciate the work, for which I was otherwise unprepared.  It’s not like I could just rewind the iPod to re-listen to it.

I’d be remiss not to mention the world premiere of Daugherty’s piece Gee’s Bend for Orchestra and Electric Guitar.  I don’t think I can do it any more justice than to repeat Gittleman’s spot-on comments: “Unlike anything I’ve ever done; unlike anything you’ve ever heard.”

Thanks very much to Marie Sutton and the ASO for letting me see the show and do a write-up.  I really enjoyed it.