That lively, harmonically interesting piece was a bit brassier than I remembered, but that could be because I was sitting close enough to the brass to easily have spit my gum into the tuba, had I chosen to do so.
The orchestra plays in a civic auditorium that is well set up for music but also hosts events of other kinds, including a women's roller derby game. The house was fairly full, and the evening's guest soloist, Chetan Tierra, who played Prokofiev's Third Piano Concerto, is a winner of international competitions, a performer at prestigious concert halls, and a Santa Cruz kid.
The audience had the endearing custom of applauding after the first movement of a piece rather than waiting until the end. But the evening's most memorable sight was a fellow concertgoer, a middle-aged gent wearing a T-shirt and pony tail, who attended the concert barefoot, a fact that neither he nor the friends with whom he conversed before the concert and during intermission appeared to find odd.
Could this start a trend? I will cast my eyes discreetly toward my fellow concertgoers' feet the next time I attend a concert in Philadelphia and report back on the results.
© Peter Rozovsky 2009