OCTOBER 9, 2024 –
“’Tis a wonder why ‘B’ is the biggest surname initial among composers in the pantheon of Western classical music . . . as in Bach, Buxtehude, Beethoven, (Mendelssohn)-Bartholdy, Berlioz, Bruch, Brahms, Beach, Borodin, Bartok, Barber, Bernstein and . . . [brass heralds . . .] Bruckner.
I mentioned Bruckner in my post on October 4, and since then, I’ve listened again to several of his symphonies, including No. 7 multiple times. Yesterday, just for kicks I Googled “What American orchestras are performing Bruckner No. 7 in the 2024-25 season?” Bingo! The closest to our hometown (the Twin Cities) was the Chicago Symphony Orchestra—on next May 31 . . . I thought initially. I immediately punched out an email to Brian Piper, my wife’s cousin in Chicago. He and his wife Gina are classical music fans (as were Brian’s parents, Beth’s Uncle Bob and Aunt Carol), and however familiar or unfamiliar Brian and Gina might be with any of the 11 symphonies of Anton Bruckner, I knew they’d be game for No. 7. “How about it?!” I wrote at the end of my enthusiastic overture.
Before hitting the send button, however, I double-checked the date and realized it was already in the past—May 31, 2024—despite the specificity of my Google search query (“2024-25 season”). Darn! We enjoy Brian and Gina so very much, yet seldomly get to see them (we managed to have dinner together last June—first time in eons—when Beth and I and Illiana passed through Chicago on the train from St. Paul to Connecticut), and I know they’d enjoy the Bruckner.
I held off on the email Brian and Gina and modified my Google search to, “What American orchestras are performing Bruckner No. 7 in 2025?” This time the Bingo! was for real: On February 28, 2025, the Vienna Philharmonic, no less, under the direction of Riccardo Muti, will “deliver” Bruckner’s most popular work and get this . . . at Carnegie Hall. In my case, this is a veritable hat trick: Bruckner 7, Vienna Philharmonic (one of the world’s premiere symphony orchestras), and one of the most famous music halls of the world—each a “first” for me.
Upon this felicitous discovery, I immediately texted my sister Jenny, who lives in NYC, for crying out loud, and is a big fan of the Vienna Phil and Carnegie Hall. Plus, having played a Bruckner symphony, she’s more familiar with his music than I am. I knew she’d share my enthusiasm for the February 28 concert (I concluded my text with, “LET’S GO!!!!!”), and sure enough—within minutes I received her reply:
It’s a deal!! Just yesterday I was checking the Carnegie schedule for the days right after Thanksgiving, but nothing happening. Vienna and Bruckner would be amazing!!!!
Over dinner this evening with Beth, Cory and Illiana joining me at the table, I announced that whoever wished to join me could, but that in any event, I would be in New York next February 28 for the concert. (So far, no takers, but I fully understand.)
Now I can join the tradition of so many friends and family members who, over the years, have made an extraordinary effort to attend some big, flashy event hither and yon. I was always envious, not necessarily about seeing in person the particular rock star or athlete or major league sports team performing at some ginormous stadium 1,500 miles away; rather I wished that I had the same drive, interest, enthusiasm, intense affinity for whatever or whomever justified mounting a major expedition to a faraway place. Now, finally, it’s my turn to make what amounts to a whimsical pilgrimage to a galaxy far, far away.
The reader must understand that there’s something else at play in this project. My youth was plagued by rebellion against my family’s devotion to classical music. I had a love-hate relationship with it—mostly “hate” until age 15 (very late in the game for a violinist), when by some mysterious alignment of the stars I dispelled the anathema and fell head over heels with “love” for music and all its possibilities. It was as if I’d been forced against my will to join the track team and hated every aspect of it—the daily workouts, the weekly meets, every single event, fraternizing with teammates; then one fine spring day instead of running against the grain, I laced on a pair of soft kangaroo-hide Nike middle-distance spikes, hopped on the track, and ran like the wind (counterclockwise), passing a long line of joggers and busting out onto the street and running hard a full 26.2 miles to a hugely gratifying personal victory over self.
Now in my eight decade I can atone for all the hurt I caused my parents and grandparents over my early rebellion. Neither they nor my sisters, for that matter, could have imagined in their wildest dreams that one day I’d travel 1,200 miles to Carnegie Hall to hear a famous orchestra perform the almost 90-minute (depending on the conductor’s tempi) Symphony No. 7 by the great Austrian composer Anton Bruckner (b. 1824 – Alsfelden, Austria; d. 1896 – Vienna). But no one back then would have been more astounded by this plan than I myself, for not more than a few months ago, I’d had zero familiarity with any of Bruckner’s music.
Yesterday evening when Jenny and I spoke by phone about the February 28 concert, I suggested that we study the symphony; that we listen to enough recordings and examine the score to become intimately familiar with every nuance of the work. She agreed whole-heartedly.
My newfound interest in Bruckner’s symphonies is now underscored by the discovery that in August of this year, BBC Music Magazine included two Bruckner Symphonies—Nos. 7 and 8—among the publication’s ranking of the top 20 symphonies of all time.
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
