Elektra Is Done

So, as the title suggests: Elektra is done. It was incredibly hot up on stage, and the guys were allowed to take off their white dinner jackets and black bowties. So what does James Levine do? Comes out onto the stage wearing black dress shoes, black tuxedo pants and: a blue polo shirt, the same one that he wears every day (I'm not positive that he wears the same one everyday; it is quite possible - and very hopeful - that he has several blue polo shirts and rotates them). All the while, the poor MET men singers wore jackets and ties. I don't get Levine sometimes. He is brilliant, etc etc etc, but he just does not look the part of brilliance. It is true - you can't judge a book by its cover.

The concert did go well, and of course, people went crazy the minute we played the last two sixteenth notes (b-flat, c natural for the violins). Felicity Palmer was by far my favorite as Elektra's mother. She was absolutely fantastic. Alan Head was Orestes, and also amazing. Afterwards there was a nice party thrown by the BSO for us at the Highwood Manor. Now - I have been here many many years, and have never been in this house. It is a small mansion on the walk between the Shed and Ozawa Hall. I have always wanted to go in there but its usually only for the big fancy parties for all the rich donors. So that was fun. Then we came back here. The End.

This morning was the usual 10 am Sunday concert. On it was Elliot Carter's A Mirror On Which to Dwell. They played well, and we clapped, and low and behold - there was Elliot Carter himself, 98 years old, walking upstage. He is the most adorable little old man, and seemed so happy to be up there. He's narrarating Stravinsky's History of a Solider (can't spell the French title) with Milton Babbitt and John Harbinson for TOP. Very nice.

Time for a shower. I've been in two different lakes in less than 10 hours.