My Philadelphia Orchestra: Tribute in Tribulation

This past weekend, there was big and shocking news for the classical music world: the Philadelphia Orchestra filed for bankruptcy.  The Philadelphia Orchestra.  I say "shocking news"; maybe better-informed folks were less than surprised, but I was both taken aback and deeply distressed. The most detailed response I've seen in the news comes from Peter Dobrin in the Philadelphia Inquirer.  Musicians distributed leaflets and staged "play-ins" before the board's declaration of bankruptcy; in the aftermath, the official message of the orchestra carried unpleasant overtones of desperation.  As if that weren't enough, the American Federation of Musicians has denounced the move.  The orchestra's Twitter account continues to try to drum up support.  Its website says they're restructuring. Under these messy and murky circumstances, I'm disinclined to obey the frantic plea for financial help.  But I resist this plea only by gritting my teeth and repeating, mantra-like, "solution for the musicians, solution for the musicians."  Because I do love the Philadelphia Orchestra.  I think of it not only as the, but as my Philadelphia Orchestra.  And to relieve my mind, and in deep gratitude to all the musicians who have made, and continue to make the orchestra what it is, here is why.

Il re s'avanza

What do graduate students do with spring break? Why, take advantage of the quiet library during the day, and take advantage of its early closure to go see opera in the evening! There were three of us who planned ahead and bought tickets to make sure we didn't miss Verdi's Attila. As the Met tirelessly reminded us, this was to be an Event: the first time the opera was performed at the Met, Riccardo Muti's Met debut, etc. Being medievalists, we were especially excited at the prospect of tumultuous fifth-century history (plus myth, of course!) on the opera stage.