Swing soft, play hard

Auswin: If I could write you a song it would start out all majestic-like, with lots of cellos and then it would get big and belicose with screaming horns and everything assaulting your ears.

Erin: Victory through sheer volume, eh?

Auswin: Exactly. And the in the end it would fade to a whimper.

Erin: The story of my life.

Auswin: Yep

Erin: And if I could write you a song it would sound like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm while it's still raining, the sky glowing topaz as the sun sets, traffic lights reflecting across the slick street, people still walking with umbrellas, unaware that the rain is letting up. A head-on collision on the road, the screech of tires, metal on metal, percussion and concussions.

Auswin: How typical.

Erin: Not that it matters. I can't write music anyways.

Auswin: Story of my life.

Erin: I know.

Among other things today, I saw Sara Davis Buechner featured in a performance of Dmitri Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. I. If there was ever someone who were to destroy a piano out of sheer enthusiasm, she would be the one to do it. She attacked that poor Steinway so hard that it shuddered under every impact, and she forced some of the most amazing, chaotic and spirited music out of it that I've heard in quite some time. I was very impressed.

Shostakovich was a pretty interesting guy too. You'd have to be to be both so in and out of the favour of the Soviets at the same time.

Hugh Fraser made an appearance as well, not only as a trombone soloist, but because it was the premiere of his Primary Colours. He's pretty talented too. I always wanted to play the trombone but I've never really had the chance to try.

As always, Sundays out are finished with dinner at the Red Onion: hot tuna salad, moose pie, extra ice cream. I'm so predictable.