A night at the symphony

GREG SODEN 
Arts Writer

    The circumstances which found me at the Saskatoon Symphony Orchestra on Nov. 21 were those of initial disappointment, but worked themselves out fabulously in the end. 

After reading the Sheaf’s write-up of Vic Chesnutt, I was quite excited for that show, which was supposed to be at Amigos Saturday night. One of my main reasons to see this show was to see Guy Picciotto from Fugazi, one of my personal favourite bands. Unfortunately, once I heard on the radio that the show had changed venues and tracked down the new venue, I was told they were sold out.

    After several hours of self-pity and whining under my breath and on Facebook, I was offered tickets to see the Saskatoon Symphony at TCU Place. Since I was forcibly freed of any plans for the evening, I graciously accepted, and decided to get rocked by violas and French horns.

    So let’s jump to midway into the symphony’s show, shall we? 

Concert Master Michael Swan was partially through a lovely solo violin piece that was making the geriatrics in the crowd absolutely swoon with emotion when the unthinkable happened.

    From the heights of the balcony, an incredible roar issued forth and what everyone in the audience seemed to hear was “I’LL KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

    The sequence of events that followed was troubling for me personally. I thought I had heard it. Of course I heard it, right? It is simply impossible to mistake a person shouting death threats in the middle of a symphonic performance.

    I wasn’t so sure though after a minute. Nobody on stage reacted in the slightest. The music carried on without missing a beat; Michael Swan finished his beautiful and amazing solo and there were no more shouting psychos to be heard. Usually when an altercation is heard, shouting occurs more than once. I thought I noticed the audience react but I couldn’t be sure.

   Now, I have been under tremendous amounts of stress for some time and I convinced myself that this was the moment when I finally snapped. The voices in my head were now shouting profanity and I was feeling the need for immediate psychiatric evaluation. 

By the time intermission came, I was sitting in my chair in row W in near hysterics and gripping the arm rests like I was hanging off a mountain face. Yes, hanging off a mountain face describes my mental stability at that point in time quite well.

    Luckily, as I wobbled my way into the bathrooms to have my complete nervous breakdown, I realized that every person in the place was buzzing about the homicidal maniac who apparently enjoys attending the symphony. 

    A random man in the bathroom was so excited about what had happened that he actually spoke to me. If you have ever been in a men’s rest room, you know that nobody speaks to each other. You go in, do your business and leave. I walked in and this guy grabbed me by the shoulders and exclaimed, “Oh my god, did you hear that man? I completely thought I had imagined it out of boredom!”

    What a relief. They all thought they had imagined it too.

    This may be ridiculously un-manly, but I really enjoy the symphony — more than a lot of men. Musical ability in a symphony will smoke any metal band around for shredding chops. Looking around, though, during the second half, I could pinpoint all the jaded husbands who were missing the Oilers game to appease their wives’ desire to spend a sophisticated night at the symphony. But having someone shout death threats at full volume in a crowded auditorium made these husbands feel like they were back at an Oilers game. The husbands were energized and they clapped longer and louder during the second half.

    So guys, if your girl ever wants to see a symphony, just remember: crazy things happen at the symphony too. Night well spent.

- -
graphic: Danni Siemens