The concert

The weekly concert at the Melba Hall was a free venue

So I did not expect a memorable experience

The three musicians arrived on the stage

A violinist, a cellist and a pianist

As usual the program was ecstatic about each of them

The question in my mind is always

If they are internationally so good

What are they doing in Australia?

 The violinist took immediately

To passionate and personal interpretation.

While for the cellist it was business as usual

And followed her lead without any enthusiasm or warmth

He was playing the notes.

The pianist had decided that whatever the other two were doing

He was performing and gave the audience one third of what they came for.

After lunch, the heat of the hall and the nineteenth century concerto

Were slowly getting to me, and in my semi comfortable interest

I was fixing my sight on the nearest musician that happened to be the cellist

As being more resting, when suddenly

His mechanical bowing changed nature

The hand holding the bow

Became bewitched and he disappeared

The hand had a soul and music was it

The hand imparted every nuance

Dictated every tone

Did not allow for any deviation

But kept it enthralled, all by its own motion

The crescendo it entered was followed by the two other musicians

The hand leading them in a shared hallucinative happening

The audience was fully entranced

Gone were the first twenty minutes of quiet digestion

Every patron either old or young  was holding on the edge of their seat

Barely allowed to breath for themselves

So strong was the music hold on their mind

It was one of a few transcendental occurrences

That one can cross in one’s life that they will never forget

So much so that the music was still in our head two hours later.

6/2/2012

L. Bailliet