Wednesday, January 07, 2004

2030 – Baghdad. It’s a question that’s bugged me all day long. You know the type. The one that just festers in the background, happy to be bourn in silence for minutes or for hours, then sneaking back into the front, burning up with a primal urgency. This is a question that must be answered.

What Warner Brothers cartoon used Bizet’s Farandole, from L’Arlesienne, as a theme?

Bugging me. Bugging me. Bugging me. But it wasn’t Bugs.

Bugging me since I heard the tune played at a performance of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra last night. As well, it was their last number, so I was humming the tune as we “bowled a few frames” at the Al Rashid. Driving me nuts again this morning, as I enlisted the more cartoon-enlightened. [There’s really a scary number of those here.] To no avail. There would be no reach back into an up to date Loony Tunes database.

The rest of the performance wasn’t nearly so frustrating in retrospect.

First off, I had no clue that this was even an event until less than 24 hours prior. Makes me wonder why there’s so little advance notice for local events, be they cultural, political, or morale based. One possible motive this time may have been the target audience, primarily Iraqi and diplomatic wheels – a number of ambassadors and the president of the Iraqi Governing Council (about as important an Iraqi as there is today), among others. Advance notice to me equates to advance notice to the bad guys, affecting their time to plan a suitable response.

As it was, the bomb sniffing pooches were nose to the task at the convention center, examining cameras and cases and bags and other stinky interesting things. In the two or three thousand seat hall, there were at least a dozen visible automatic weapons, and who knows how many in the wings, keeping the president, ambassadors, timpani and me safe from music haters.

For whatever reasons, the attendance was only about five or six hundred. Lots of suits. Even a mink or two. Lots of Iraqis. Makes me wonder where the cultural elite was hiding during the past twenty years. Certainly, the folks who used to enjoy this sort of distraction used to be upper crust, but the upper crust used to all be Baathists, who should all be gone now. This may only leave scattered literati, but I’d guess the guests that night were mostly returning Iraqis, here to lead the country into the new age (and reap the potential).

I had no suit. Neither on or even with me, but found a fine seat anyway in the middle, about a dozen rows from the front, and settled in with a half dozen Whiners to enjoy the show.

The Orchestra was freaks about tuning. Once he entered, the concertmaster led not with a single sustained note, but with a small digital tuner, pointing to each brass player in turn, to tune, pointing them flat or sharp until they got it right. The strings could do this unassisted. However, the process was repeated (albeit in an abbreviated form) after each number.

Eventually, the conductor, dressed in some way wide tails, took to his riser and did his conduction thing. As it turns out, he was quite the dancer. I was hoping for the Greatest Hits of the Dark German Composers (as always), but instead got a more happy German, Ludwig Van to start. Following was a piece the conductor (Ezzat) composed, including the use of a few traditional Iraqi instruments. The featured soloist was a cellist, Karim Wasfi, playing well enough on a Faure number, then some Mommer and Sagirma before the enigmatic Bizet tune to close the show.

As usual, the cameras were there. Between two of the latter numbers, one video unit appeared in an aisle near the stage, accompanied by a talking head, who appeared to be giving a play by play of the concert. Perhaps the extensive tuning was some sort of TV time out, allowing journalists the opportunity to provide some commentary.

Although small, sixty members strong and weak (the strings were tight, the brass less so), their performance was well appreciated. If naught else, for a chance to forget about where we are and when and why we are.

The highlight for me was the use of the traditional instruments, featured especially on the Mommer number (I think). Six Iraqi men in traditional costumes were given seats around the conductor. They settled in with their zarib, oud, balaban, santur, tar, daf, and juza, and raised the roof. Highly energetic, and obviously pleased to be making music for the masses once again.

I hope I can find a juza in Jordan this weekend.