Book overview
Walk into any great concert hall and you will find an orchestra - dozens of musicians, scores of instruments, centuries of accumulated craft - and yet the music that emerges feels like a single, breathing voice. How does that happen? What is each instrument actually doing, and what kind of person is drawn to play it?
This book offers a warmly personal answer. Through a series of short, luminous portraits - part poem, part color - the author leads us through every section of the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra, the ensemble he called home for over thirty years. Each instrument gets its moment: not a technical manual, but a character sketch, the kind of insight that can only come from a lifetime spent on the inside.
We meet the flutist, who sends half her air into the room in an act of continuous generosity. We encounter the contra bassoonist, whose low, rumbling entrance signals that something enormous is about to happen. We sit beside the harpist during a great arpeggio - a shower of multicolored rain - and feel the string bass not just with our ears but in our bones. The conductor appears as both authority and humble servant. The trumpeter, we learn, is born wanting to be heard. The bass clarinet leads us quietly into shadow.
Alongside each portrait are vivid collage illustrations that bring the instruments and their worlds to life - playful, colorful, and full of the same spirit of wonder that runs through every page.
This is a book for music lovers, concertgoers, and anyone who has ever sat in a darkened hall and felt the music move through them. It is also a love letter - to the composers who wrote the music, to the musicians who devoted their lives to it, and above all to the colleagues of the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra, whose artistry and camaraderie inspired every word.
Come listen. The orchestra is about to begin.
