Here Comes the Cadenza

The music has echoed through the hall for what feels like the good kind of eternity. You forgot how uncomfortable your seat was way back in the second movement. Everything else melts away as you and hundreds of strangers breathe (or forget to breathe) in unison. First your ears and then your whole being fill up with the music that streams like a waterfall over the edge of the stage and sends waves rolling over the rows of seats and up into the balconies. The melody is coming to a point. The orchestra swells into a crescendo, and you can feel it when they pause...here comes the cadenza.

The soloist takes a breath as the conductor's arms hover over the stand, the baton poised in the air with a hundred pairs of eyes trained on its tip. The silent moment has almost settled when the soloist fills the room with sound again, decorating the melodies of the past half hour or more with the loveliest ornaments that her skilled imagination can find. Near-impossible feats of sound dance around the room. You dare not shift your gaze for fear the spell will break. Then she slows into a long trill with an almost imperceptible nod to the conductor. Up goes the baton, and as it falls, the full force of the orchestra strikes back up for one last sprint to the finish line. The final descent of bows is countered by the standing ovation as the listeners and performers bask in a shared moment of celebration.

If you've never had the gift of hearing a good symphony orchestra in person, I hope you can do it soon. There's nothing like it and (despite the attempt above) no way to really describe it. But I had to try anyway since that experience inspired the title of this blog, which needs a little explaining.

A cadenza usually comes at the end of a piece of music where the soloist will improvise or write a section of their own. I think the best ones sort of tack the performer’s musical opinion onto the statement of the original composer. It's a chance for the soloist to contribute not just an interpretation but also a creative element to the music itself. They can show you their favorite things about what was already there and add a little something of their own. These sections are usually full of embellishments that show off the most impressive skills of the soloist; it's like the grand finale at the end of a fireworks show!

Now—before I make myself look foolish by claiming some authority that I definitely do not have—this blog is not so that I can have some sort of self-aggrandizing final say on a topic. I like cadenzas, not because I’m so brilliant, but because I’m not.

I’m not a very good composer (I’ve tried… you don’t want to hear it), but that doesn’t mean I have nothing to say! I see so much beauty in what already exists, and I want to contribute to the conversation, even if I'm not the top expert in every topic that comes up. This is a place to point out the things that are beautiful, challenging, interesting, or just plain fun by riffing on them for a while. And it's not just me, you'll see amazing work from guest poets and writers as well.

In other words, this blog is my cadenza on the music of the world—a chance to point out what is beautiful and say, Did you notice how cool this is?! Here’s why I love it!

As you read, I hope you find more reasons to love it, too.