When I was a child, shortly after school was out, we would pack up the family station wagon, and head over the bridge to the U.P. to visit my Dad’s family in Caspian.
Suitcases were a luxury, so my siblings and I would each get a cardboard box, contact paper and markers to craft our own personalized boxes. These became our personal treasure chests during our week of family vacation. Catching the first glimpse of the Mackinac Bridge would send a thrill through all of us. Crossing the bridge was spent in silence. I don’t think being quiet was a hard and fast rule, the bridge just prompted a type of awe in which words were unnecessary.
Once we arrived at Nono and Nona’s house, the days and nights were filled with visiting relatives, playing bocce, buying candy at the corner store, eating stews with polenta and my Nona’s homemade cornetti (crusty, shaped bread rolls), and playing a lot of cards. We did a lot of these things at home, too, but it was always so much more special to do these things with our U.P. family. Being outside the comfort of home, made each thing we did, even the familiar things like cards and bocce, more interesting.
This same thought occurred to me recently at a jazz concert that I attended. Listening to music at home is definitely not the same as hearing it live at a concert.
My friend bought two tickets to see Bill Frisell and his band at the Alluvion a few weeks ago, and I was her lucky guest. She knew his style and warned me that his playing is kind of “out there.” I had experienced quite a lot of jazz, so I wasn’t too worried, I was used to rambling solos and off-beat rhythms.
The concert was sold out and before it started there was a request from the venue manager that we stay engaged with the music and musicians and we keep our phones put away. I chuckled to myself, “good luck enforcing that!”
And then the band filed out and started playing.
It was, as predicted, “kind of out there.” It took a good 10 minutes before what I was hearing resembled music. I watched reactions. People were leaning in. There were closed eyes, and nodding with the beat, and the musicians traded solos, each were rewarded with hearty clapping and scattered “oh yeah’s.” The first number went back and forth, from minimal to musical, for a good 30 minutes.
Truth be told, if I had been listening to this by myself at home — I would have skipped to the next track. That’s when it struck me: If I had been home, I wouldn’t have experienced this. Being there in person gave me a chance to see, and feel, in a way listening at home could never do.
I am not knocking staying home — it’s a great place to relax and unwind. I tend to spend more time at home the older I get. The things that we do at home lean toward the familiar and comfortable, but rarely do much to broaden our horizons. For that, we have to cross the bridge to the unfamiliar. Find a new venue, hear a new band, eat a different meal, and visit a new town. Experience something that might be a little “out there.”
Being in that jazz concert was a lot like crossing the Mackinac Bridge. The room was quiet and in awe. We were in the company of musical geniuses, and were being invited to step inside their musical brains. These gentlemen of jazz were so generous with their gifts and talents. You better believe, I checked often, and not ONE phone was ever visible. The audience was doing as told — thoroughly interacting with the music and musicians.
It wasn’t until the band returned for their encore that they played a tune that I recognized. They performed it with grace and artistry that was soft and gentle. This song had a melody. I felt the room collectively relax and sigh — a perfect closer to an exceptional show.
As the last notes disappeared into the ether, my friend showed me her arm — goosebumps. I had them, too.
“Not exactly a band you’d hire for a wedding reception” she joked as we departed the room. “Hard to imagine their version of the Chicken Dance” — I joked back. When I said I really loved it, she looked at me in surprise. “It challenged me! We had a collective experience!” I exclaimed. And I thought to myself, it got me out of the house.
The 2024-25 season at City Opera House includes many opportunities for you to hear something new, enjoy some familiar tunes and be part of a collective experience.
Have you ever heard “Moanin’ Frogs?” We’ve got them (they play saxophones). A harpist rocking out to Prince, The Police, and Bowie? She’s coming in March. How about a Pirate Themed Costume Ball? Throw on an eye-patch the weekend before Halloween and take in “Pirates of Penzance” (a rare opera in City Opera House). We also have some familiar pieces sung by new talents, and some old favorites, like Martin Sexton tackling The Beatles’ “Abbey Road” in September, and the adorable Tony Danza sharing his stories and songs in what will be an utterly delightful show.
I dare you to “cross the bridge” to City Opera House! Look up at the ceiling with awe. Feel pride in knowing that it was lovingly restored and continues to shine when so many other historic gems disappeared. The shows are sure to be memorable, too! You may even get goosebumps!