Sandi Sigurdson was the lucky baton winner at Pops by the Sea 2004! You can see Sandi on the right with the dreadlocks (yikes!) The colorful, and patriotic piccolo players are (from left): Bonnie Richan, Alice McGonigal and Martha Uhey.
Scroll down the page just a bit and you can view Martha's musings on her many years with the Symphony. And below that, you'll find Alice's thoughts on her time with the orchestra. Your turn next, Bonnie!
By the way, you can read through ALL of our Symphony blogs by using the links on the left to pull up different posts. Or just keep scrolling down the page for all the 2008-2009 blog posts by David Hennessee. Feel free to leave a comment at any time - we'd love to hear from you!
Hope to see you at the Classics Finale Concert this Saturday, May 2nd!
Martha Uhey (flute and piccolo) joined the orchestra in 1971, the same year that Clif Swanson became conductor. She had just graduated from UCLA with a degree in Music Composition. Her parents had moved to Los Osos from Los Angeles to open a piano store (Martha’s father was a piano tuner). He set up an appointment for Martha to meet Clif. At the time, Clif was starting the Mozart Festival, and he mentioned that there was a Symphony, but he wasn’t involved with it yet. Shortly thereafter, Clif called to tell Martha that he’d been asked to conduct the Symphony, and he invited her to be principal flutist. “And that was that!” as Martha says.
Life Before the PAC: Muddy Pools and Close Calls
Martha faced some challenging situations in the days before the Performing Arts Center opened: “Cuesta Auditorium in the rain: this was always treacherous, especially for the women of the orchestra! Once one made it across the muddy parking lot, this did not mean that one was “home free” so to speak, because there was the dreaded jump to the hall yet to complete! You see, there was a short stairway down into the backstage area, and at the bottom of the stairway was a landing that turned into a muddy pool during the rainy season. BUT . . . that was not all – there was no door handle on the outside of the very heavy double doors leading into the backstage, but rather a rope that one would hope happened to be caught between the doors. All one had to do was balance their instrument, music, gig bag, and (in the case of a female musician) gather up her skirt while in high heels, grab the rope which was 3 feet away across the muddy pool, and hope for the best. I am proud to say that I never fell into the pool, but I can honestly admit that I was thirty-five years younger then. I’m glad I’m no longer put to that test!”
Martha has had a couple of other close calls over the years.
One time, Helmuth Rilling was guest conducting, and due to a misunderstanding about the program order, as Martha remembers:
“Alice McGonigal and I thought we weren’t playing until the second half of this concert, so we were in the balcony of the church down in Pismo. There were many late patrons, so we decided to help the ushers seat people. The lights came down, the audience hushed, and Mike walked on stage and introduced Helmuth. And then he said, ‘And by the way, if there are two flute players in the audience, we could use them onstage.’ At that point, Alice and I started waving to the orchestra and assembled choirs on stage. I still remember the look on Gary Lamprecht’s face (he was singing that night). All of a sudden Alice and I got it – we were the flute players who were supposed to be onstage! You’ve never seen two grown women in floor-length tight skirts and high heels run so fast! We got to the back of the church panting, collapsing on the floor at Mike and Helmuth’s feet, apologizing profusely as we jammed our flutes together in the back hallway of the church, and then walking ‘calmly’ on stage to the clapping and laughing of the audience. What a way to start an all-Bach sacred choral music program!”
Martha also made it in under the gun for the Carnegie Hall concert, but fortunately she did so in time:
“I was warming my piccolo up backstage and had really waited too long to get onstage, so I was in a hurry! I remember coming through the backstage area as fast as I could without running and seeing Mike just off stage – and then I saw it: I stopped short and looked up . . . and up . . . and up – there were people all the way up to the top of the Hall – ‘We have an audience!’ I marveled. I was so excited just to be playing in Carnegie – that we had a huge, appreciative audience made the whole evening layer upon layer of magic. There was so much flash photography going on at the beginning of the concert that the ushers gave up trying to stop it (it’s usually strictly forbidden). It seems that our spunky Symphony from California playing the wonderful music of Craig Russell was a breath of fresh air.”
What to Wear for POPS: “A Hat or Something?”
Martha and the other flutists are well known for the inventive headgear they sport for the “Stars and Stripes Forever” piccolo soli at POPS concerts. Martha was relieved when the POPS concert found its home in Avila Beach:
“No more private ranches (as beautiful as those could be, my teeth were chattering at the last one when I was attempting to play). NO MORE Budweiser Stage at the Fair Grounds - that just didn't seem the right place for a symphony orchestra, and the stage was too small.”
Here’s how the colorful hats came to be a tradition:
“For a few years at the Fair Grounds the piccolos would stand up at the appropriate place in ‘Stars and Stripes,’ and Tony the Tuba [Tony Clements] would start playing our solo. We'd shake our fingers indignantly at him and sit down. That was the sum total of our shtick. One year Bonnie [Richan] called me and asked if we couldn't do something different - a hat or something? And that was the beginning of the POPS thematic piccolo garb. I was going to stop doing it after a few years, but people have told me that they look forward to seeing what we're going to do next. What started out as Uncle Sam hats has burgeoned into the Statue of Liberty, red-white-and-blue Carmen Mirandas, Hollywood starlets, 1-2-3's (with 5 foot headdresses), and hula girls. Two of us in the flute section have our storage sheds full of costumes. To me, the high point of this wonderful concert is the baton auction [the highest bidder gets to conduct ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’]. The story of why the baton has been purchased is always a moving one, and to be a part of it is very meaningful!”
A Poignant Memory
“When Dave Stade died, his empty chair was onstage for the concert and when Mike walked onstage, he put a bouquet of flowers on Dave’s chair. Dave was in the orchestra when I started – the orchestra meant everything to him and he was such an important part of it for years. Mike’s gesture was so poignant.”
Martha’s Thoughts on the Symphony: Past, Present, and Future
“I am still continually amazed at our orchestra. I remember the days when we couldn’t even play through a movement of a piece and when we had to wait until the weekend of the concert for the ‘ringers’ from out of town to fill the woodwind, brass, and string sections. There were pieces that Clif wouldn’t even attempt because we just weren’t able to play them. Now we can sight-read them with ease.
This orchestra is successful because of four incredible parts: talented dedicated musicians, a talented dedicated conductor, a talented dedicated staff, and a talented dedicated board. If any one of those parts were missing, our orchestra wouldn’t be the very special organization that it is. This has been true for years, and this is why we are where we are today.
With the talented leadership and community following that we have, there is no reason that this symphony shouldn’t thrive into the future. Our education programs are an important focus of our organization as are our No Ties Allowed dress rehearsals. When I am on stage I always feel that the audience cares so much about us – the feeling is mutual! That is something that I treasure – our relationship with our audience.”
Alice McGonigal has served as principal flute in the Symphony since September, 1975. Additionally, she plays piccolo, alto flute, bass flute, fife, Irish-folk flute, guitar (for Kinders at school), some viola and cello – plus singing, conducting and arranging. Here are some of Alice’s favorite memories of her thirty-four years with the Symphony.
In Which Alice Auditions (or, “Little San Luis Obispo Has a Symphony?”) In 1975 Alice was living in Van Nuys, just beginning her Master’s degree in music at CSU Northridge (then San Fernando Valley State College), which she completed in 1979. During these years, Alice worked as a Music Librarian at CSU Northridge. She also performed actively with the North Wind Quintet (formerly the Northridge Woodwind Quintet) and was a frequent recitalist and session musician. Alice had a number of flute students in Santa Maria, so she commuted there twice a month. Sometimes she would stop by Hancock to consult Chris Kuzell’s MGG Encyclopedia (Chris worked at Hancock then and was concertmaster of the SLO Symphony). It was during one of those visits that Alice learned about an opening in the flute section of the orchestra.
“Chris and I were playing duets (flute/violin). Afterwards, he asked: ‘would you be interested in auditioning for the San Luis Obispo County Symphony?’ I answered, ‘little San Luis Obispo has a symphony? Wow! I didn’t know that. Sure! Is there an audition list?’ Chris said, ‘I don’t know. I’ll call the conductor Clif Swanson and ask. Do you know who Clif Swanson is?’ I replied, ‘No. Never heard of him.’”
At this point, Alice’s knowledge of San Luis Obispo and Cal Poly was limited. She knew that Cal Poly had a PE department and a swimming pool because she would sometimes ride with her older brother there to swim laps.
After a few days, Clif arranged to meet with Alice at Cal Poly within a day for her audition. Alice asked what she should play, and Clif replied, “whatever you have will be just fine.” Here’s the rest of the story in Alice’s words:
“I arrived at the time set by Clif. Well… Clif didn’t show up at the appointed time. I didn’t know what he looked like, so any fellow going into the music building could have been him. I figured he forgot or we had missed one another, so I waited twenty minutes (a standard wait time for college professors), then I started to walk to the parking lot when someone called out: ‘Are you Alice?’ I turned around and saw a tall man, and I said ‘Are you Clif Swanson?’ He said, ‘yes! I’m sorry I’m late.’ We went into the band room; I got my flute out and put my music on the stand.
As I was looking through my music, I saw that the music I was going to play wasn’t there. I was going to play the first movement of the J.S. Bach Flute Sonata in E plus the pieces I had just learned for an audition for the Denver Symphony the week before. Very embarrassed, I asked Clif, ‘what would you like to hear from my stack of music? The pieces I had prepared aren’t here, but I do have these Handel Sonatas with the bass line underneath the flute part.’ Clif all of a sudden walked away, took out a bow, and then got a double bass from one of the large, long cabinets in the room and proceeded to tune the bass to the piano. I then tuned to the piano and while I was tuning, Clif walks over and stands just slightly behind me. We started to play the Handel sonatas together. We played for about forty-five minutes to an hour, then he put his bass away. I asked if he wanted to hear me play piccolo. He said no. Then he started to talk about the orchestra and what was available in the flute section as well as other sections and about the players of the Mozart Festival. He asked several questions about my music background. Then he told me that he had to hear one or two more flute players and then he would call me. I thought, ‘Is that it?’ He did say that he was pretty sure I would be first chair, but I wasn’t too convinced because I actually thought I was auditioning for second chair. He even talked about payment for the chair placement and funds for mileage. He wanted me to drive up from Van Nuys each week and not every other week. Two days later he called me again to confirm the principal flute position. I agreed to his offer. Now… almost thirty-five years later, I’m amazingly still principal flute in the San Luis Obispo Symphony.”
In Which Alice Reminisces
Alice writes of her time with the orchestra: “each year has a memorable moment.” Some that stand out: “Of course the trip to Spain and me cracking a whip I bought in El Escorial. The trip to Carnegie Hall and to George Washington University with my younger brother tagging along. And I can’t forget the Australia trip with me catching a sick bug on the plane to Sydney and being sick for the rest of the trip! Ugh. The Walt Disney Hall was great and some of my colleagues in Los Angeles had a chance to hear me play in the orchestra.”
However, according to Alice, “what comes to mind is the unexpected.” Picture it: the Cal Poly band room packed with enough musicians to play a Brahms symphony. Clif is conducting, and Alice is playing flute. At one point the entire orchestra – strings, winds, brass, percussion – were playing such loud chords that the vibrations in the room actually shook Alice’s music off the stand. It was sheet music, so the pages fell every which way.
In Which Alice Further Reminisces (or, a Slip-Up)
Sometimes I envy women who play in orchestras: they don’t have to perform in bulky, hot tuxedos. Even at the “no-ties-allowed” dress rehearsals, I catch myself, out of habit, reaching up to straighten my tie when taking a bow. When I got my first tux at fifteen, I had a devil of a time keeping the cummerbund in place. It tended to slip down and look not unlike a loincloth. Still, as this story of Alice’s shows, ladies can face wardrobe “slips” of their own. Here’s a “blog-exclusive”:
“The scene: the orchestra was playing a Beethoven symphony. During the first movement, I felt my slip rising up and my concert dress bunching up. So, I reseated myself during the next few bars of rest. Boy, was that a mistake! The slip contracted up around my waist and (just in time) I grabbed my skirt to keep it from following the slip. I realized I had brought the wrong slip when leaving home with my change of clothes. For the whole first half of the concert, I was trying to keep that slip down. Finally the intermission came and I had to walk very slowly offstage and into the ladies room to remove the slip, taking very small steps, like a Geisha girl. My skirt was very black, but rather thin – like something Madonna would wear! So for the second half of the concert, I had my black coat hanging on my chair and wore that to get on and offstage.”
In Which Alice Sums It Up “Over the past thirty-four years, I have experienced two conductors, a few guest conductors, and performed in several venues: the old Cuesta theater, the church in Pismo Beach, the Pop’s Concerts in Paso Robles and now Avila Beach, and of course the new Performing Arts Center at Cal Poly. I’ve had the chance to perform chamber music with guest artists, and even solo myself with the orchestra. I’ve seen the orchestra grow from a small chamber orchestra to a healthy Beethoven/Brahms-size orchestra. I feel very fortunate to still be in the orchestra even after having a stroke in January 2007 -- I was back playing with the group in the May concert of that same year."
"I truly feel lucky to be part of this group of people who love to play music and are members of this orchestra called the San Luis Obispo Symphony. I love this music family. Blessings to you all!”
How nice to play Beethoven 5 on one’s birthday, not to mention have “Happy Birthday” played for one by the orchestra! A real treat after a day of individual conferences with writing students, repeatedly saying things like “Yes, ‘there’ ‘they’re’ and ‘their’ actually are different words,” and “No, I don’t think you can safely cite ‘personal opinion’ as evidence for the claim that ‘most Americans are going bankrupt right now’” – you get the idea.
Here are a couple tokens of gratitude...
Linda Ashworth sent the first along. I wish we’d had this for the last concert! “Mit Parodie” is my favorite.
A New Mahler glossary Langsam = Slowly Schleppend = Slowly Dampfer auf = Slowly Mit Dampfer = Slowly Allmahlich in das Hauptzeitmass ubergehen = do not look at conductor Im Anfang sehr gemaechlich = in intense inner torment Alle Betonunger sehr zart = with more intense inner torment Getheilt = out of tune Von hier an in sehr allmaehlicher aber stetiger Steigerung bis zum Zeichen = From this point on, the spit valves should be emptied with ever-increasing emotion Hier ist ein frisches belebtes Zeitmass eingetreten = Slowly Hapttempo = Slowly Noch ein wenig bechleunigend = slowing down with a sense of speeding up immer noch zuruckhaltend = with steadily decreasing competence sehr gemaechlich = With indescribably horrific inner torment Etwas bewegter, aber immer noch ruhig = Somewhat louder, though more inaudible than before Gemaechlich = Intermission Ganz unmerklich etwas zuruckhaltend = Slowly Etwas gemaechlicher als zuvor = Slowly Zurueckhaltend = Gesundheit Von hier ab unmerklich breiter werden = As if wild animals were gnawing on your liver Ohne cresc. = Without toothpaste Immer noch zurueckhaltend = slowly Allmaehlich etwas lebhafter = Screaming in agony Ohne Nachschlag = Without milk Kraeftig bewegt = Slowly Alle = Second violins tacet Mit dem Holze zu streichen = like a hole in the head mit Parodie = Viola solo sehr einfach und schlicht = Slowly Daempfer ab = eyes closed Den ersten Ton scharf herausgegeben = Do not play until buzzer sounds Am Griffbrett = As if in tune Aeusserst zart aber ausdrucksvoll = Radiantly joyful despite the itching Wieder zurueckhaltend = Increasingly decreasing Noch breiter als vorher = Better late than never Nicht eilen = No eels Allmaelich (unmerklich) etwas zuruckhaltend = Much faster (slower) than conductor Lang gestrichen = Heads Up Lang gezogen = Heads down
Tracy Sparks found this one. It’s Zuill Bailey performing the last part of the Tchaikovsky “Rococo Variations” at the February dress rehearsal. wow...
Best, DH
(And yes, I do sometimes get carded, though mostly by very old checkers with thick glasses and senile dementia.)
When I interviewed Michael Nowak for Moebius over a year ago (the interview that’s been serialized for “Classics in the Cohan” programs this season), we had a brief conversation about moving around, living in one place versus several, etc. I remarked that even after six years, I still felt “new to the area.” Mike replied, “yeah, six years; you’re still new.”
I’ve led a fairly peripatetic life (nine locations), but in thinking about it, I saw that I haven’t always been so keen to move around. For example, in Seattle, I lived in the same apartment for eight years. (I loved that place!) I realized that perhaps I’ve been following Holly Golightly’s advice: when you find a place where you and things go together, buy some furniture and give the cat a name.
Many members of the SLO Symphony must have come to this same realization at some point in the past. So, on the suggestion of Quin Hauss, and as a corollary to Mike’s twenty-fifth anniversary, the blog will feature a series of profiles honoring Symphony members who’ve played with the orchestra for twenty-five years or more. First up: Barbara Blanke and Pat Lamprecht.
Barbara Blanke Barbara’s primary instrument is violin, though she also plays guitar and piano, mostly for children. She joined the Symphony in 1982 after a neighbor brought over the Tribune to show her a two-line advertisement with audition information.
Barbara recalls those days:
“I had lived in SLO for one and 1/2 years and did not know there was a symphony. I had played in the Bay Area for the San Jose Light Opera and various community groups and really missed not having a musical home in SLO.”
Barbara has “so many!” fond memories of her time with the orchestra, and here are just a few: “Michael's audition was so memorable! Since I was a music major and loved conducting, his style and energy was awesome.” She enjoyed being on the Symphony Board for three years as the orchestra representative, and she also loved “assisting with the start up and initial research for Everyday Etudes,” describing the experience as “so much fun to be a part of.” Barbara holds out “hope that there will be classical music lovers in our future.”
Here’s the Everyday Etudes video, in which Barbara is featured:
Barbara describes the Carnegie Hall and Australia tours as “incredible.” On Carnegie Hall: “We played and then embarked on a midnight cruise around the New York skyline. As we circled the Statue of Liberty about thirty of us out on the ‘cold’ bow of the boat simultaneously broke into song, ‘God Bless America.’ This still gives me chills thinking about that night!” On Sydney: “I loved going to the zoo with Mike, Suzette and Julia and other orchestra friends in Australia. Any time to have real-life time with my musician friends on a different level is what life is all about!”
Barbara is optimistic about the future of the Symphony: “We are so lucky to have Sandi and the incredible, incredible staff at the Symphony office. They are what keeps the heart beating and they do it with such a flair!”
She also has some advice on how to keep music alive in our community: “If all musicians commit to give time and/or money and believe in the music that we all love, the symphony will thrive. Build relationships and give anything you can and classical music will be an important part of San Luis Obispo forever!”
The picture posted above is of Barbara and her husband Dan on the day of her doctoral defense.
Pat Lamprecht Pat is a longtime member of the viola section, and she also performs in the alto section of the Vocal Arts Ensemble, directed by her husband Gary.
Pat recalls her early days with the Symphony:
“I joined the symphony viola section in 1972 as a newlywed. Clif Swanson was the director at that time and we performed at the old Cuesta Auditorium. The members of the orchestra were very kind to both Gary and me and made us feel very welcome to this community after we had left the Los Angeles area. I have played with the orchestra most of the years since then, only taking time off to have babies, for the most part.”
Ed Lowman was the orchestra manager during this time, and he called Pat to play viola only after she’d had time to recover from having her twins, Amber and Carey, and later, son Darby.
Pat recalls some fun times commuting: “Ed Harris (who still plays bass in the symphony) and I would carpool to rehearsal from Cayucos in his huge Buick -- top down, lots of chrome and gigantic fins -- what a ride!”
Pat sums up her experience with the SLO Symphony: “It has been great pleasure for me to have had both of my daughters (violin and oboe) and husband (rookie percussion) play in the orchestra with me at various times over the years. I know that our symphony will continue to grow and flourish, even in uncertain economic times. I am thankful for the gift of music I receive each time I am allowed to be a part of our symphony. There is no better seat in the hall than where the violas sit.”
And there’s no better seat onstage than the one next to Pat Lamprecht.
Even though we’ve had hiatus from “Classics in the Cohan,” March was a busy month for many musicians in the SLO Symphony. Some of us were doing the PCPA recording of Les Miserables; some played for the Pacific Repertory Opera’s production of Madama Butterfly, and almost everyone did the Children’s Concerts. I did two out of three and can’t fathom how those who did all three kept their sanity. I would have been lost without my Two Fat Ladies DVDs from Netflix. Why is watching full-figured British matrons cook pigeons wrapped in streaky bacon so comforting after a long day? Mysteries.
Anyway, I’ve been neglecting the blog, so here’s an update.
I’d been looking forward to playing Madama Butterfly for some time, and it didn’t disappoint. PRO’s new Artistic Director, Robert Ashens, is… wait for it… a real pro (ba-dum-bum). He knew the score like he’d written it himself; he was clear about cues and musicality, and he displayed great skill and encouragement in leading us through an intricate score. I thought Grace Seng’s sensitively played violin solos perfectly captured the pathos of the story. Plus, it was nice to see the performances so well attended. I hear the Youth Symphony was given a discount, and judging by the glowing faces of my viola student and his mother at intermission, that was a good idea.
Whenever I do the opera, I think about how professional opera orchestra musicians are some of the highest paid. There’s a reason for that: it’s hard work! Opera pushes one’s limits of concentration and endurance, and Madama Butterfly is no exception. It’s almost three hours of almost constant playing (no recitatives for breaks). Tempos and style change abruptly, and the tempos are, well, flexible is too mild a term. Put a fermata on every other note, and watch the conductor like he’s your last chance to escape the fires of hell. Certain parts, like when Cio-Cio-San is being disowned, or when Pinkerton returns – the orchestra parts are like warfare – fast tempos, odd phrasings, tricky counting, abrupt dynamic shifts. Act I is almost an hour. Then after a break, you play Act II (just 48 minutes). Then a break, and Act III (a concise 30 minutes). Then it’s almost the witching hour, and you drive home, dodging the odd vampire.
The experience reminded of this video of by my favorite singer/songwriter, Rufus Wainwright. The song is called “April Fools,” and it features him cavorting around LA with famous opera heroines who all meet bad ends. See how many you can identify. (Sorry, we can't "embed" this one in the blog, but click the link and you're there!)
OK, I have to get this off my chest: if I ever meet the copyist for the viola part, I’ll give that sadist a piece of my mind. Our part had the worst page turns in the history of page turns. Something really important at the bottom of the page, one measure rest, then… something else really important right after that! Often, a soli part! We actually had to plan and practice page turns. I even tried memorizing some (with limited success). We worked it out, though. We did our thing. We made it our own. There was some pitchiness, but, Dawg! It was the bomb! We’re going to the finals! (I’ve been watching too much American Idol.)
Despite some challenges, playing for PRO is always such a great experience. It’s almost like chamber music (if chamber music had sopranos belting high E flats before dying in a pool of pathos), but more than that, it’s inspiring that (especially in these times) our relatively small community can put on (mostly) home-grown opera performances. For me, the best part comes when it’s all done: watching the singers take their bows, being brought flowers, in their wild costumes and crazy stage makeup, and contemplating this amazing feat we’ve all just accomplished. What a remarkable thing to do in the world.
I did a bit of research on Puccini and was surprised to learn that after writing Madama Butterfly, he wrote a sort of prequel to it, about Cio-Cio-San’s childhood and early life before Pinkerton came along. It was called Madama Caterpillar.
Here’s a little (good) opera-related humor. First you’ll need to watch this video of Australian pop diva Kylie Minogue singing her 90s hit “Lucky.” Not mandatory to watch the whole thing. In fact, don’t -- unless you like bubblegum-pop -- but it’s set up for the video that follows.
Here’s the main course: the British comedy duo of Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders (plus opera star Sarah Walker and conductor Carl Davis) with their send-up of opera and opera divas.
Here’s the short version:
And here’s the full version:
Next were the Children’s Concerts, March 30th. It was great to play concerts for kids programmed with “real” music. In my opinion, classical music can be presented to young people in an accessible, meaningful, not-dumbed-down way, and these shows did that beautifully. As in, Copland wrote dance music, so why not have dancers? Disney did a smart visualization of Beethoven, so show it. Vivaldi wrote program music, so read the poems he based his concerti on. And please (as Mike did) explain why the viola player sounds like a dog.
Who would have thought when I joined the orchestra that one day I’d be impersonating a dog? Still, fun -- sort of like going to a costume party: slightly embarrassing, but fun because also embarrassing. And it was worth it to play the faithful companion of Brynn Albanese. I adored her passionate interpretation of “Spring.” The kids did too. As Mike said at rehearsal, Brynn plays this stuff for breakfast. Before she burns some rubber, that is:
For me, another highlight of the program was Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. My favorite variation is the bass one – it reminds me of the frolicking hippos from Fantasia. Much better than the viola variation. Regardless of how well one plays ours, to me it brings to mind someone with intestinal distress hoping the Pepto-Bismol will kick in.
I enjoyed Sue Blue’s narration – I’m sure it helped introduce the kids to the sounds they were about to hear, and she’s a wizard with voices.
On to Beethoven and Barber! (Click here for details - May 2nd at the PAC - don't miss it!)
Best, DH
PS: An opera-related viola joke: A violist and a soprano jump out of a burning building at the same time. Who hits the ground first?
The violist. The soprano stops midway to take a bow.
Sandi Sigurdson was the lucky baton winner at Pops by the Sea 2004! You can see Sandi on the right with the dreadlocks (yikes!) The colorful, and patriotic piccolo players are (from left): Bonnie Richan, Alice McGonigal and Martha Uhey.
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