Evening in 3/4 Time

Obviously, it had been a few years since I'd been to see "The Nutcracker."

For instance, I didn't realize until 6:40 that the performance began at 7, not 8:00. Fortunately for me, my partner in crime was able to get it together as quickly as I was.

And I remembered it as a nearly three-hour extravaganza whereas we were out on the sidewalk by 9:15. And that's with an intermission.

Ballet for the ADHD set?

Everyone's got favorite parts in this old chestnut. I'm enamored of the snake charmer dance for the sinewy athleticism and grace of the dancer who plays the snake.

But for sheer soul-swelling and heart-melting it's the music of "Waltz of the Flowers," that makes me wish I was being waltzed  could waltz.

And part of that is the pleasure of having the Richmond Symphony performing the music.

I was pleased to see a friend, the talented Nicholas Lewis, down from the north playing that bass clarinet that he does so well.

Looking around during intermission, I only saw one familiar face; the scientist was in attendance, hardly surprising since he'd once taken me to a dance performance when he'd scored some free tickets.

He was out of reach to inquire if he had any chocolate (he usually does at any kind of performance) so I put thoughts of chocolate out of my head as the lights came down.

After walking out of the theater at the mind-blowing hour of 9:15, we went down to the Belvidere for a bite and to try to figure out why people kept clapping and interrupting the flow of the dance.

Our stay there started with a big laugh when the bartender greeted us with, "Oh, I see you made it to the second date!"

We corrected his misconception and moved on to food before the kitchen closed.

Over smoked salmon (really, who does it better in this town? Belvidere's is like butter) for me and a grilled portabello sandwich for him, we listened to a guy tell us about how he lost his dream girl after five years.

As he explained it, there were no relationship issues, he just screwed up.

He owned right up to it.

And now he's ready to find the right girl. His qualifications? That she really like him.

That's it. After realizing that looks were not the key, he just wants someone who would enjoy him.

Boy, could it be as easy as that?

Maybe that and some chocolates to show he's not going to rush her.

Waltz time is plenty fast enough.

A Birthday Afternoon of House Music

Say a musician friend was planning a casual performance on the afternoon of your birthday. He asks you what you think of the idea weeks in advance. You tell him the idea is magnificent and made all the better because it will take place in between your birthday brunch and birthday dinner. Say he decides to call it the "Great Music, Great Spaces Inaugural performance" instead of "Karen's House Music Show." Whatevs.

But let's be clear, the show was not at anyone's house; it was at Urban Farmhouse Cafe, that high-ceilinged space with a facade of nothing but enormous windows, all of which were open. The "house music" term comes from the tradition of composers playing their latest creations for writers, poets and other musicians in a room in their house before debuting works for a symphonic audience.

Today's house show was organized by good friend and clarinet player Nicholas Lewis of the Richmond Symphony and involved four partners in crime (two violins, a viola and cello), also Symphony members. Urban Farmhouse was filled to capacity and I must have run into a dozen people I hadn't seen in years. Clearly Nick's circle is a wide one and yet somewhat overlapping with mine.

The program began with Mozart ("a civil discourse"), followed by Brahms ("more agitated"). Next came selections from Ralph von Williams consisting of folk melodies arranged as high art. The finale was spectacular. Nick had asked his friend and musical peer Gary Powell Nash to do an arrangement of the spiritual "Over My Head," a feat accomplished in an unbelievable three days. Of note here is that we were the very first audience to hear this arrangement; it was truly magical.

The words of the spiritual were demonstrated by Nick because the scheduled vocalist was unable to perform. I was so glad that he took the time to share the words because it made the piece resonate even more.

Over my head I hear music in the air
Over my head I hear music in the air
Over my head I hear music in the air
There must be a god somewhere

Now I'm a card-carrying heathen but I found those words to be as true as any ever written or sung. I might also mention how completely appropriate they were for the music-loving birthday girl at the finale of Karen's House Music Show.

Or whatever Nicholas was claiming it was called.

A Symphonic Lunch at Urban Farmhouse

Sunny Fridays call for lunch plans and luckily my friend Nicholas, he of the Richmond Symphony and a consummate musician, here, invited me to join him at his new favorite place, the Urban Farmhouse. He said he was cooking up a performance idea and he wanted my input since I like music and going out so much.

Like so many places of late, UF has a gluten-free bread option for people like Nicholas and the half dozen other friends I have who are gluten-intolerant. They offer a gluten-free flatbread on which Nicholas got his Q with Blue Chicken, which the server described as "like eating hot wings without the grease," although the kitchen made it clear that the combination was a first for them. Apparently they succeeded beautifully because Nicholas said it was delicious and ate every bite.

I ordered the asparagus, white bean and feta salad over mixed greens and it was by far the best thing I've had at the UF and this was my third visit. The asparagus was perfectly cooked as were the beans, both a bit toothsome, which is to say to my liking. The salad was not overdressed, a frequent pet peeve of mine, but perhaps a tad over-cheesed. Still, it was good enough for me to say something to the kitchen staff who thanked me profusely for my kind words.

Nicholas' stroke of genius is a chamber music performance to be held at UF on an upcoming Sunday afternoon, in the tradition of "house" shows of previous centuries where new music was played for the enjoyment of friends and family. Those enormous windows that front Cary Street will be thrown wide open so as to entice passers-by to come in and listen. The five musicians will be sipping wine in between movements and the vibe will be comfortably relaxed.

I told him that I absolutely love this idea. Let's see, it's free, it's creative, it's music and I can't imagine anyone who shows up won't be thrilled to experience it. Hell, if I was transported hearing him play in a wine shop under construction, this will be almost like a ribbon-wrapped gift.

After all, my birthday is coming up this month...

Why Do These Things Happen to Me?

Sometimes the cosmos rewards a music lover like me with a perfect moment so random and cool that I just have to think, how lucky am I?

Walking down Walnut Alley to 17th Street, I see through the window that the retail space at the corner is being renovated. Rounding the corner, one of the workers standing at the door smiles at me, so I ask him what's up with the space. He tells me it's going to be a wine shop/art gallery and invites us to come in and meet the owner. She's perched atop a ladder, one guy is sprawled on the floor paining a sign that says "C'est le vin" and a couple others are moving things around.

I ask her about the bustle and she says that the neighborhood needed a wine shop for the locals; she invites us to look around just as my friend Nicholas appears on the sidewalk and comes in to say hello. As I walk around admiring the wine racks, ogling the tin ceiling and talking to the sign painter, the space is suddenly filled with the sound of a bass clarinet.

Nicholas, who plays bass clarinet for the Richmond Symphony, has spontaneously decided to test the acoustics of the room by playing. It is so amazing-sounding that everything else becomes secondary. One second it's an interesting new space and the next it's musical paradise; everyone is paused in their work by the moment.

When he finishes, he walks over to the owner and says, "Don't ever let anyone amplify their sound in here. It's perfect just as it is."

Actually, what was perfect was that a good friend randomly walked into the place where I just happened to be and began playing his instrument so beautifully that time may as well have stopped. And I told him just that when I saw him later at Alley Katz.

How in the hell am I so fortunate?