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Would you recognize this person if you saw them in public?
Yes, I know who this is and I feel confident that I would recognize them
I know who this is but I’m not sure I would recognize them in person
They look familiar but I’m not sure who they are
I have no idea who this is
Nuanced answer
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) - Goldberg Variations (arranged for baroque ensemble) in G-Major, after BWV 988, XXVIII. Variatio 27. Canone alla Nona. Performed by Gunhild Ott, flute, and Wolfgang Wahl, viola, on period instruments.
Back when I was in a band where I had to wear all red and manually blow up 20 balloons before playing the flute for a whole set
📸: @taylernicholson
my baby
Cândido Portinari (Brazilian 1903-1962), Flautista, 1934. Oil on wood, 46 x 37.5 cm.
Dryad's lover
i just got home from a band concert and i need to rant about things i love about music for a sec because it's so beautiful.
the feeling of a crescendo is unmatched. it's like climbing up a roller coaster track, feeling your bones vibrate and being overcome with the thrill of what's coming. hearing each instrument enter like a reunion, until the entire band is playing at a fortissimo and flying full force through the measures. putting everything you have into each note until you're gasping for air.
the conductor's gestures to the band, ones meant only for them. private smiles when you make it through a tough section. pointed eyebrow raises to get you to listen to the melody. mouthing instructions that we know because we've heard them a hundred times before. looking up from your music and making eye contact with them. the way the flicks of the baton get more gleeful when you play their favourite section. the conductor and the band becoming one unit, communicating without words seamlessly as they shape the sound you wield.
your instrument vibrating under your fingers with each note. it feels alive, your body breathing soul into it as you become one. each vibration feels like life itself.
sound echoing off the walls, the resonance becoming dissonant with the next chord as the music pushes forwards. notes suspended in the air like a second band, our music rippling over the universe itself. the air is alive and it's singing.
the moment before you put your instrument down after the piece. one second where you hold your breath and wait for applause, the momentary silence shocking you back into reality. no more notes. breathing a sigh of relief as the audience claps, becoming a person again rather than a vessel. blood rushing to your cheeks at the euphoria of completing the piece. any mistakes bleed away, because it's over.
putting the sheet music back into the folder for the last time and feeling a pang of bittersweet grief at the thought that you'll never play it again.
the way the band becomes a unit at the concert. gone are the whispers and jokes during rehearsal, leaving souls silently connected across the rows as we raise our instruments together and enter the gauntlet. the bass rumbling, the sopranos soaring. harmonies that the audience won't remark on but which provide support for every passage of the melody. you aren't individuals, you're a family, each instrument another piece of the puzzle that forms the whole.
the world fading away, just for a couple minutes, as the music plays. no worries, no fears, no thoughts except for the music before you. your body isn't yours, but rather a vessel for the performance. fingers dance and lungs ache. you become the music. it fills your veins, your mind, your very soul, and you welcome it. it quenches a thirst you never knew you had, and you fly.
