I am constantly amazed by the variety and oddity of arts available in Hong Kong. Tuesday night, I dressed up smartly and headed to a concert. The billing boldly read, ‘THE QUEEN OF HARPS!’ I had never seen a harp concert nor a full orchestra where a harp was extensively involved. So, why not start with the top? The advertisement alone made this a curious event.
Glancing at the program, I quickly realized I knew none of the songs (all by French composers)- affirming my non-aficionado status of orchestral music and cementing I will forever be a poser on the classical scene. No problem, I enjoy tunes. Despite my amateur status, I have been to a few concerts in my day. This one, however, seemed to be conducted by Freddy Goldsmith – which made for some hard home run moments.
After every piece, the harpist and the conductor would bow, step back and bow again while the audience clapped. These quickly became awkwardly long – particularly as both performers would then leave the stage and after a few moments return to applause. After one tune, our harpist returned in a different dress. Every piece, and the harp particularly, is described best as ‘plucky.’ The cellos, the violins, the harp – if it had strings, they were plucked repeatedly. The harp, often an instrument I associate with lullabies and heavenly ballads, quickly became an instrument of tensity. One tune, Tomasi’s Ballade ecossaise, billed in the program as “romantic and reminiscent of the highland folk tradition,” was possibly the most dissonant pieces I have ever heard. The soundtrack to Requiem for a Dream repeatedly burst to my mind.
Finishing the next to last tune, the crowd began clapping and a small girl went to the stage to present the harpist a enormous bouquet of flowers. My confusion ensued, as there was another song on the program. Our harpist proceeded to play some little ditties, including the ‘Kentucky Fried Chicken Rag’ and a song described as ‘Music from Wales.’ These two impromptu jingles were actually some of the best harping all night. Not to break the form of the night, she bowed and left the stage after each tune. The orchestra-at-large sat awkwardly as she played. The conductor and the harpist left and returned repeatedly. After this grand display, the conductor returned – sans harpist. The orchestra proceeded to play a slow moving, and almost boring, version of Le roi s’amuse by Leo Delibes. The conductor bowed and left. “What boring and odd piece to end a concert on…” I thought mildly to myself. The conductor returned to give the audience a encore piece! While I had never been to a orchestral concert with an encore, I was pleased. He bowed, left, and returned – for another encore. This tune? I swear, though it may have been a different version, sounded identical to a piece played earlier in the evening.
At this point, this circus of a concert was becoming comical. Hands down, this was the weirdest orchestral performance I have ever attended. As I reread my entry, I feel the oddity of the evening simply cannot be captured in words. I wondered if the performers had gone mad or if I simply was a fool for not understanding this ‘high culture.’ However, at the end, even the audience glanced at each other in confusion and nervousness. Would there be another ovation or encore performance? Would the Queen soon bust out with an electric harp and light show? What? What was to come next?
In general, the harpist seemed lackadaisical, mechanically playing tunes. Likely, I have been spoiled by performances of other virtuosos, such as Yo-Yo Ma, who play with such enthusiasm and joy that their love travels through sound waves to delight the ears of listeners. My biggest disappointment was that orchestral concerts often seem to transport me to another time or place, filling my head with sound and joy. This concert, however, was like imitation cheese – with a little too bright yellow coloring and a bit of a gritty taste.
That said, I can now mark ‘harp concert’ off my life to do list. The entire program song list (in case you were interested):
