There’s something magical about the variety of instruments playing their own charts with the different tonal qualities and basic sounds and coming together in to create the harmony of the score. Yet, there is something close and personal in a solo performance.
I can enjoy the light chatter of a round table, or conversational buzz at a party; but the face to face talk; the leaning in close to receive every nuance of the message being conveyed, so close that you can taste the heart and soul of the person. That’s the solo.
A violin that moves you to an ethereal place where the air is swirled with light gold and becomes a harbinger of a misty rain; and the piano where emotions can be transformed several times within one piece. Excitement becomes joy, and joy becomes sadness, and sadness beckons romance. The music carries with it a sense of somewhere else.
The cello moves the listener oftentimes to a place of peace, and deep breaths that cause you to close your eyes and begin to hope in a new way. The trumpet pulls the hurt out, and spreads it out in front of you so you can see it and experience it – then kick it aside. You’re done with it. The end of the trumpet solo always brings a smile.
The symphonic orchestra is the bouquet of notes that are tied with a ribbon of agreement. The instruments nod to each other with respect and acceptance.
The solo is one beautiful blossom highlighted, showcased, and infused with passion, smooth and sensual. There are no words to influence me. Accompanied only by my own thoughts, and the instrument who knows them, it becomes an intimate moment.