Campus, Music

A Night of Music to Remember

Music, like water, is an innate necessity. Its notes ripple in our ears, exiting every single one of our hairs. We await the moment of utter fulfillment that brings tears to our eyes.

The rapid succession of strings, the clear harmony of the chords, and the overlapping repetition of the Spanish music transformed the auditorium, if only for one minute, into the temple of the Matador. Silence—until the great beast with its horns surrenders to the beat of the music. A roar of cheers follows. Though the moment of excitement has passed, it will not be forgotten.

It is said that you never truly know someone until you have seen them sing. It is such an innate aspect of our expression that no one can say they have never sung. Our voice has the power to transcend our circumstances and elevate our spirits. A collection of voices brings the choirs of heaven down among humanity, striking us with serenity and resoluteness. The Glee Club’s performance induced a trance-like state of contemplation and liberation, broken only by the seizing of the voices.

The orchestra was the big show of the night. Solemnly, the dormant beast sleeps while a lone player tunes the rest. The undulant tunes of the land of honey and milk sweeten the tea. First, they only accustom the audience to their foreign vocabulary. Soon, the rhythms pick up speed, evoking the desire of one’s hips to move. Suddenly, the music peaks with the thunder of violins, cellos, violas, piano, conductor, and soul. With an abrupt ending, the cultural pride is so thick and deserving that the scent of frankincense appears out of thin air, leaving the echoes of Fairuz’ voice.

An anthem of hope then followed—Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. The French and Russian anthems merged in a delicate balance between chaos and hope. Though all seems lost, hope, a force of nature, prevails. The trumpet blasts the joy of the people while those who know the song await the cannon, the 19th Century equivalent of dropping the bass. After, only applause and gratitude for such an experience is left.

The night ended with an interpretation of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s “Christmas Eve/ Sarajevo 12/24.” The delicate melody of “Carol of the Bells” was made gritty by the steel strings of the electric guitar, enhancing the evening experience. The song’s repetition prompted a constant elevation: more strings, more sounds, more passion, more music!—until it was over. Applause took place, a picture was taken, phones were returned, but most importantly a memory was created.