Block Island Day 1 - Monday, August 17

Kate and I left Brooklyn at about 7:30 AM Monday morning, headed for Point Judith, RI and the ferry to Block Island. We had loaded her car with a few days' worth of clothes, some food for the road, and our bikes. I had my Trek hybrid and Kate had an old 10-speed bike she recently bought from a former roommate. We had struggled with her bike on Sunday evening getting the front wheel off to fit the bikes in the trunk, but I had the procedure down to a lean 10 minutes. It took us about four hours to reach Point Judith, and we had about 15 minutes to walk a few blocks to the next ferry for Block Island. If we'd missed that boat we would have had to wait an hour for the next one. We walked our bikes and our luggage as fast as we could and got onto the boat with a few minutes to spare. It was a foggy but uneventful crossing, and by the time we approached the island the fog had disappeared and we could see our destination clearly.

Once we were off the ferry, we locked up our bikes across the street from our hotel and checked in. Our room wasn't ready so we decided to get some lunch. We walked about a block to Finn's, the closest thing to a "clam shack" on the island. Nearly all of the restaurants and bars on Block Island are within walking distance of the Old Harbor where the ferry docks so we didn't have far to go. Our room was ready right after lunch, so we changed into our swimsuits and rode to the beach. Kate took point and I followed, for two reasons. First, she had been to Block Island before and knew her way around. The other reason was that we had had some mechanical troubles with her bike beyond the aforementioned front wheel and I wanted to keep an eye on it. I didn't want to ride up front and leave her behind if her chain popped off, which it did several times that afternoon. We found our way to a rocky but secluded beach on the west side of the island and nearly jumped in the water. It was colder than I expected but refreshing after riding a few miles in the hot sun.





We sat on the beach for a few hours, watched a couple of dogs wander past us without paying us any attention, and only saw a few other people. We left a few hours later and nearly got lost on our way back but a few friendly joggers pointed us in the right direction. Along the way we saw a saddled but riderless horse trot past us and make a turn down a driveway that led to a stable. We didn't see a horseless rider following, and I wish I'd gotten a picture of the horse. We ate dinner that night at Beachhead Tavern, a few blocks north of our hotel, and had the first of several lobster dinners that week. The food wasn't bad, but the menus at most of the restaurants were typical beach fare: seafood, steaks, and pasta. The disappointing aspect of the dining on Block Island was that the restaurants didn't serve much in the way of fresh-from-the-ocean seafood. Most of the fish came from the mainland on the ferry.

brief vacation report

I'm back in Brooklyn and wrapping up my last day off before returning to work. I've written up a full report on my trip to Block Island, but it's about 2500 words. I'm going to parcel it out over the next few days so as not to overwhelm the reader. Look for the first day's report sometime tomorrow, or whenever I remember to click that "publish" button.

VACATION VACATION VACATION

I haven't had a proper vacation in about four years. By that I mean a trip outside of New York as well as a total separation from anything resembling work. For years, any time spent away from work has still involved checking work e-mail and thus worrying about (or at least thinking about) some issue at the office. Until recently, the only remote device I had that was capable of sending and receiving my personal e-mail was my company Blackberry. When I read my personal e-mail, I had no way of avoiding my work e-mail as well. And if I were checking one account I might as well check both. When I've been away for more than a few days, there has always been some issue that comes up that is my responsibility. Even if I knew someone else would be able to handle the problem in my absence, I would still worry that they would either call me for help or make some odd change to fix the issue that wouldn't be the way I would have fixed it. Regardless, I end up spending part of my vacation thinking about something at work and thus not enjoying my time away from my job, which is usually the point of taking the time off in the first place.

Step one in breaking out of this habit was buying the iPhone. Now I have a hand-held e-mail device of my own that is completely separate from work. I couldn't check my work e-mail on my iPhone even if I wanted to.

The other problem with my vacations the past few years is that they haven't involved leaving everything else behind. I've either gone to visit family or I've stayed in the city for a now-trite "staycation." My initial plan for next week was to visit family, or failing that, to stay in the city and avoid any part of my regular workday routine. But when an opportunity to actually get out of New York and go somewhere new came up, I jumped at it. Next week I will spend a few days on an island, away from my computer, my Blackberry, and hopefully anything resembling a reliable cell phone signal. I'm looking forward to having nothing to do but read, eat, sleep, and enjoy a new environment. It will be refreshing. I can't wait to come back even a little bit recharged.

I'll keep my bare feet to myself, thank you

I bought a pair of flip-flops on Tuesday evening. I hate sandals of any kind and I especially hate flip-flops. But I bought them because I'm going to the beach for a few days next week and I didn't want to get sand in my sneakers. Don't expect to see me wearing these shoes anywhere but the beach, or possibly when I take out the trash at home.

I don't understand people who wear flip-flops everywhere in the summer. I live in New York. The streets are filthy year-round but even more so in the summer. I know it's hot but I don't want to think about having that kind of grime anywhere near my bare feet. I've seen people wearing flip-flops at baseball games and on the subway and I shudder to think what kind of bacteria they've picked up during their day. (Gothamist enlightened us on that last point yesterday.) Suffice it to say that there are some nasty infections awaiting anyone wearing flip-flops with open cuts on their feet.

It's even worse when I see women wearing them in the office. I may be alone in thinking that flip-flops are not proper work footwear, but the double standard makes it worse. If I flipped and flopped my way around the office all day, my boss would send me down to Century 21 to buy a real pair of shoes. But it's fine for women to flap-flap-flap around the hallways in the same shoes I bought for $10. I don't want to hear about the difference between "beach" shoes and "fashion" sandals; if it makes that noise, it doesn't belong in the office.

I know I'm in the minority, and I have sometimes held extreme positions only to abandon them in the face of immense opposition. (See my past blog posts about not being an "Apple" guy and avoiding the iPod for examples.) But I don't want to ever be a sandals guy. I can say with complete and utter certainty that you will never see me in a pair of "mandals" or any other kind of exposed footwear. The world doesn't need to see my bare feet even if it's 100 degrees outside. I will wear real shoes on the hottest days and be proud of it.

The problem with perception

I spent part of my Monday afternoon wandering around one of the floors in our offices checking the signal strength of our wireless network. Someone from the IT department had conducted a demo for some lawyers last week and reported problems with the signal and connectivity during the meeting. I went over there to check things out for myself and found that the wireless network was perfectly functional, though the signal strength meter in my Windows system tray flickered between green and yellow. The software that controls the wireless card reported 40-60% signal strength in the problem areas indicated last week by our colleague. I didn't notice any trouble connecting, reading and sending e-mail, or browsing the Internet despite the periods of "yellow" coverage.

I considered what the people who use that conference room might be thinking. They might see the yellow indicator on their computers and think that they have a problem, when in fact they are connected and working. Computers don't need a full 100% signal in order to transmit and receive data. I think the wireless signal indicators on computers are about as accurate as the bars on a cellphone. Since Wi-Fi and cellular signals are radio waves, they fluctuate depending on interference from other devices, walls, buildings, and so on. Full bars on either one doesn't mean that a phone or computer will have a robust, strong connection. Wireless networks are designed to work with less than 100% signal. A computer can connect to a wireless network with a 20% signal and still be able to send e-mail and download movies. There might be a speed drop-off, or there might not be. And even if there is a difference, it might not be noticeable without a speed test application.

But the perception is that a weak signal means a weak connection, and that's bad for network adminstrators. Most people don't understand the way wireless networks function, and to be fair, it's not necessary for everyone to know the link (or lack thereof) between signals and connectivity. The challenge for network administrators like me is whether to explain 802.11a/b/g/n networking to the general user community, or if it's better to saturate the office with access points so that the laptops always show "green." Many of my daily struggles with technology in the workplace boil down to these two choices: explain a problem to the users and how to work around it, or just throw money at the problem and make it go away. I'm not sure how this particular situation will play out. I suspect we'll choose the latter option.

Possible NY Philharmonic ticket problems

I received my 2009-10 New York Philharmonic season tickets in the mail a few days ago. I opened the envelope expecting to find a few sheets of perforated card stock with my tickets ready to be torn off as needed. Instead, this year the Philharmonic packaged their tickets in little tear-out books, like the kind you get from a bank for loan payments.

My problem with this format is that the ticket books are by seat, not by concert. I have two tickets for each concert on my subscription. One booklet is for seat BB105 and the other is for seat BB106. So I have to remember to take one ticket from each book for each concert. I'm paranoid about forgetting my tickets so I don't foresee any trouble for myself. But has anyone at the Philharmonic's ticket printing (or ordering) office noticed that many of their patrons are older and less, shall we say, aware of whether they have the correct tickets in their pockets? I think there will be more than a few instances of people bringing the wrong tickets to concerts this season. I'd better move up my Avery Fisher arrival time by a few minutes to account for any trouble.

Remembering John Hughes

As Gawker said, this item is probably the best John Hughes memorial post you'll read. I won't be offended if you skip the rest of mine.

I haven't seen all of Hughes' movies. It wasn't until a few years ago that I saw The Breakfast Club, and I still haven't seen Sixteen Candles. But Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Weird Science, and Planes, Trains, & Automobiles are some of my favorite movies from the '80s. I didn't know until yesterday that Hughes wrote more than four times as many movies as he directed. The scene in The Great Outdoors where John Candy eats the "Ol' '96er" steak is still hilarious to me and my father twenty years later. And I had no idea he wrote the Vacation movies. My life has been affected by his work more than I imagined.

Many of my younger online friends wrote that they had no idea who Hughes was or why his death affects some of us so deeply. I think you need to have grown up in the '80s to appreciate his talents properly. In his works, Hughes brilliantly captured the feelings of young people in the '80s. His characters were sometimes stereotypical teens, but they seemed more real than anyone else on the screen. I wanted to be like Ferris Bueller, but I was much more like Cameron. I was Brian Johnson and Gary Wallace. I can still relate to these characters twenty years later. I think that's the best testament to Hughes' works: that they can still resonate so strongly years after their creation.

Twitter is down!? How am I supposed to share my thoughts and feelings with the world?

I've gotten so used to following my Twitter feed that I forgot what it was like before I had a running live blog all day long. I'll have to go back to boring old blogging for now.

I make coffee at home in the morning most of the time. If I don't have time to drink it while I'm getting dressed, I'll put it in a large travel mug and bring it to work. I was running late this morning but I made a pot of coffee anyway and poured it into the travel mug. I added a ton of Splenda and a little cinnamon and had a few sips while I ate breakfast and got ready. But the mug was nearly full when I was ready to leave. It wasn't until I was on the subway (which I had to force my way onto) that I realized I'd left the mug on my coffee table. It's the first time that's happened. I know there are worse things I could have done, such as leaving my refrigerator open, my door unlocked, or my windows open. But I was annoyed at the thought that I left a delicious mug of hot coffee sitting on the table. It has a lid on it and it's not near anything too valuable, so if the cats knock it over I won't lose much. (OK, my New York Philharmonic tickets are on the table. That would be a significant loss.) It's just the principle of forgetting something I enjoy so much.

I could always take more time in the morning so I'm not rushed, but we all know that's not about to happen anytime soon. I don't know how to operate when I have extra time.

Thoughts from a wedding on Saturday

If you're getting married in August in a church that lacks air conditioning, please spare your guests the full Mass. I appreciate your devotion to your faith, but it wasn't necessary to keep us there sweating through Communion.

The pink tutu dress paired with the stripper-esque heels was an unforgettable combination for one guest. Sadly, I don't mean unforgettable in a good way.

I should have eaten more of the hors d'oeuvres, because the main meal was damn near inedible. When someone at the table orders prime rib and gets the butt of the rib, you know you're not eating at a high-quality catering hall. And the less said about the underdone potatoes and the stuffed shrimp, the better.

I like weddings that have the bride-and-her-father and groom-and-his-mother dances right away, along with the speeches and toasts. This was not one of those weddings. One man at our table said what we were all thinking when the band asked the father of the bride to come up for the dance: "Oh for God's sake, cut the cake already! We want to go home!"

The Pirates keep on rebuilding, and rebuilding, and rebuilding

There's been some uproar over the Pittsburgh Pirates' latest trades. For those who don't follow baseball that closely (and that usually includes me), the Pirates have traded away nearly all of their regular players from the past few seasons. It hasn't happened all this week; it's taken a few years. But the point is that they've traded away all of the players who have had any semblance of talent in favor of prospects or cheaper, less talented players.

There are voices of reason in the storm. I understand what they're saying: the Pirates, on the verge of their 18th straight losing season, weren't going to win with the players they had, so why not get something for them? I don't have a problem with that philosophy in the short term. But it's been the Pirates' management strategy for too long to trade away good players with big contracts for lesser, cheaper guys. They've made some terrible free-agent choices too, and their baseball draft picks haven't worked out. You don't have 17 straight seasons below .500 without everything coming together. But the last big-name player I remember the Pirates re-signing was Jason Kendall, and that was ten years ago.

The idea is that the front office is assembling a core of prospects that can contend two to three years from now. I've heard that before, when it was the Pirates' first five-year plan in the mid-1990s, and again a few years later. We've seen how well that has worked out. In order for this team to succeed, the players have to perform on the field, and management must be willing to compete financially for free agents. Pittsburgh isn't going to lure top pitchers with a sub .500 team at all the positions. What incentive is there for a top slugger to come to Pittsburgh if he's going to waste his best years on a terrible team? Management has to make a commitment to winning at all costs. I don't see that from the current ownership.

The Pirates don't have to look far for an example of how to rebuild a team. The Penguins were terrible in the early part of this decade. They were sellers at the trade deadline and fans had few reasons to go to the games. But the team got lucky with their high draft picks and won the Sidney Crosby draft lottery. The labor shutdown in 2004 also had much to do with the Penguins' success on and off the ice. But a few star players weren't enough to get the Penguins to the Stanley Cup Finals two years in a row and a championship this year. It took skilled play on the ice, ownership that was willing to pay free agents, and management that made the right trades at the right time to surround the stars with role players.

Right now the Pirates appear to be working on the last item, albeit without the stars. We'll have to see if it works this time. It hasn't worked before and, like many Pirates fans, I'm tired of waiting. I haven't given up on the Pirates so much as I've just given up on baseball. Without a great home team to root for, I can't stay interested. I'd root for the Mets, but somehow that thought is even more depressing. I'll just check out the Steelers training camp reports instead.

I just got my iPhone, but now I want the upgraded version

The new iPhone 3GI is like Tinkerbell: it only works if you believe in it.

No more iPod Classics?

Gizmodo's Wilson Rothman writes about Apple's current iPod product line and the role of the hard-drive-based iPod Classic. There are few hard-drive players on the market now, and even Apple admits that they're selling fewer of them in favor of iPhones, Nanos, and iPod Touches. There's a dwindling customer base that needs a giant iPod to carry an entire music library around. Flash-based players are smaller, lighter, and have more features to offer than their disk-based counterparts. And there's always the longevity factor. A disk-based player has internal moving parts that will break eventually, while a flash-based player is more durable.

Like Rothman, I have a 160 GB iPod Classic and a 32 GB iPhone. Depending on my destination, I'll take both devices with me when I go out. I can't explain why I need to carry my entire music collection with me at all times. It's come in handy at those times when I've had an urge to hear a particular song or I need to look up a song for reference purposes. Most of the time I listen to a handful of podcasts or music I've recently acquired. I can listen to those things on my iPhone, since I've set up playlists that sync new music to the phone. Yet I carry around my now-clunky (by comparison) iPod Classic anyway. I have a few other reasons besides music hoarding for keeping the Classic around. It keeps a backup copy of my photos, and I've used it to move large files from computer to computer as well.

But my Classic isn't going to last forever. I can hear the hard drive clicking when I start playing an album or a long symphony, and my technical experience tells me that hard drive noises are not a good sign. I knew when I bought the Classic two years ago that it would most likely be my last disk-based player. If Apple made a 128 GB iPod Touch, I would buy it as soon as my Classic served up its last song. I could keep all of my music on it and use it as a web browser and mobile computer just like my iPhone. I wouldn't be as skittish about using a Touch at the gym as I am about my phone. I'd be a mess if either one took an accidental flying jump off the treadmill, but a dead music player is easier to replace than a subsidized phone.

I forgot Pat Buchanan went to Georgetown

By now, Pat Buchanan vs. Rachel Maddow on Sonia Sotomayor's nomination to the Supreme Court is old news, but I've just gotten around to watching the clip (at the bottom of this page, or elsewhere on MSNBC's web site). Georgetown has many famous alumni, among them George Mitchell, Paul Tagliabue, and of course Bill Clinton. Why is it that I always forget Pat Buchanan went there too? I'm sure Pat's Georgetown experience in the late 1950s was vastly different from mine in the mid-1990s. For one thing, he would have had far fewer women and minority students to pass on his way to class.

WQXR changes locations, but won't fade away

The New York Times announced yesterday that they had sold WQXR, New York's major classical music radio station, to Univision and WNYC. Univision will take over WQXR's frequency (96.3 FM) later this year, while WQXR will move up the dial to 105.9 and a weaker transmitter. The Times is dumping assets while trying to "weather a newspaper industry downturn" and WQXR was a property they couldn't afford to keep. The station will become a listener-supported public radio station, which keeps it on the air but with pledge drives. For the moment, the station remains on the air at its current frequency and online at wqxr.com.

I've been a fan of WQXR since I moved here ten years ago, listening at work via their web site. So the station's move to a weaker signal doesn't affect me directly, but the potential loss of another classical station does. I understand the Times Co.'s motivation: classical music radio is almost as much of a dinosaur as the newspaper industry. It's a weak genre with a graying audience. It's not popular with young people or advertisers. But I think it's important to preserve stations like WQXR. Even if there's a small audience for classical music, it's a loyal one. And WQXR has relationships with the New York Philharmonic and the Metropolitan Opera that are vital to those institutions. If we lose WQXR, we lose another connection to our musical heritage and history. I hope that the station continues to be the flagship for classical music radio here in New York. It would be a shame for a city as great as this one to lose its only classical station.

What's the deal with fruit?

Matt at Warming Glow posted this delightful "60 Minutes" clip of Andy Rooney checking out the fruit selection at Fairway on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I've sat through many of Rooney's commentaries over the years, and he's long past the point of thoughtful insight. Now he's like the old uncle that you visit at the retirement home, the one with the weird view that the 'guvmint' is stealing his Social Security to pay off Fidel Castro. Last year Rooney opined that Barack Obama didn't sound like a presidential name. In another segment, he talked about ways to save money during a recession and admitted that he pockets dinner rolls from restaurants for use in the next day's lunch.

This time, Rooney talks about all the bad melons he's bought over the years, reveals that he's stolen cherries from supermarkets, and doesn't think green is a good color for fruit. Green is the color of vegetables, he claims. But that's just Andy being Andy. The part that scared me the most was Rooney's shriveled hands. Are my hands going to look like that when I get older? I'd better pick up some hand lotion on the way home.

The continued parting of a fool and his money

I've had the iPhone for a few days now and I haven't installed that many apps on it yet. I'm taking my time, sorting out the apps I definitely need (Tweetie, Facebook, Citibank) from the ones that have only marginal utility for me (iHandy Level, two movie theater apps, Paper Toss). I paid $3 for a Wi-Fi finder app for a possible work project, then when I tried the app I found that it didn't report the information I needed for the job. It's still a worthwhile app, just not for this task. And I was conflicted about paying $2 for a iPhone app that shows you which subway car to use to get off right in front of your station exit or staircase, but I bought it anyway. This information is the sort of stuff a New Yorker should learn over years of traveling on the subways, not from a program derived from a lunchtime project. (The NY Times commenters agree with me.) But I bought it anyway because I wanted to see how well it works. But I'm sure I'll forget all about it the next time I'm running late and I get off at an unfamiliar station.

A man and his toys

When I was growing up, I had no shortage of toys: Legos, Star Wars figures and ships, G.I. Joe figures and playsets, and Transformers, just to name a few. My brother and I would play together after school and after watching cartoons featuring some of these toys. As I got older, I knew that eventually I'd have to give up my toys and become a boring adult. I didn't want to be that kid in my neighborhood who was about five years older than me and my friends and clearly too old to hang out with us while we played with plastic Star Wars toys. But I also didn't want to give up my toys. At 12 years old, I actually worried about this upcoming change in my life.

Then I discovered computers and computer games, and I forgot about Transformers and G.I Joe. Just like that, they weren't cool anymore and I didn't care. Also, I'm sure puberty played some role in this change. It's hard to get the attention of girls when you're still bringing your Storm Shadow GI Joe guy to school. So computers and my Walkman became my new toys. I hauled a case full of cassette tapes to England in 1989 so I'd have music to listen to on the flights. I spent hours in front of the computer writing programs, playing games, and tinkering.

My adult life has featured a succession of computers and gadgets, all of which have fulfilled the role that toys used to play. I've run home from work to set up a brand-new computer. I've stayed up late at night playing games on the computer and on my Xbox. And I've carried my laptop to far more places than necessary, under the pretense that I *might* need it but mostly because I just wanted to have it with me.

My four primary "toys" are my laptop, my camera, my HDTV (and the cable box and Xbox that go with it), and my cell phone. The last one is the newest, as I've finally upgraded to an iPhone. I didn't want the iPhone when it first came out. It was expensive, it wasn't as fast as my Samsung flip phone, it looked fragile, and since it couldn't hold more than a few gigabytes of data or music, I decided to wait. Last summer's release of the iPhone 3G tempted me a little more, but I was happy with my old reliable cell phone. And I was still under contract for another six months. This summer, after another year of frustrated texting on my old phone's numeric keypad, I decided it was time to get into the market. Kate got an iPod Touch as a gift, so I got the chance to play around with it and try out the virtual keyboard. I found that I could deal with that feature and that I really liked having a full version of Safari available. I considered buying a smartphone from another manufacturer and I gave serious consideration to Nokia's E71. But the more I thought about it, the more I just wanted to get the iPhone already. Five years ago I bought a MP3 player that wasn't an iPod, in part because I didn't want to be an Apple guy. Two years later I was tired of dealing with my crappy MP3 player and bought an iPod. When I thought about buying a smartphone from another manufacturer, I remembered my previous experience and I didn't want to spend the next two years wishing I'd gotten the iPhone instead.

So now I've got my iPhone. I've only had it for 24 hours, so I haven't played with it that much yet. But from what I've seen and done so far, I think I'm in love.

The end of an era at the NY Philharmonic

I have tickets to tonight's New York Philharmonic performance of Mahler's 8th Symphony. 18 months ago the orchestra announced its schedule for 2008-09, Lorin Maazel's final season as music director. When I saw that Mahler's 8th was the last work he would conduct in that role, I couldn't get my subscription tickets ordered quickly enough. Of course, I want to be there for the spectacle that is Mahler's largest symphony (by the number of musicians involved -- this work is informally known as the "symphony of a thousand"). I also want to be there for Maazel's last weekend in his role as music director.

When the Philharmonic chose Maazel as their music director in 2002, I was surprised and a little disappointed. With all due respect to Maazel, they picked him to replace Kurt Masur, so it was a change of one older conductor for another. I had hoped that the orchestra would choose a younger music director, and I saw Maazel's appointment as one of "caretaker" of the orchestra. And as at least one classical music writer noted, Maazel has been just that in his seven-year tenure. I don't agree with the notion that an American orchestra has to "stand" for something. In Maazel's case, I think the Philharmonic hired him in part because they didn't want to have an agenda. The agenda, if there was one, was 'steady as she goes.' I've always enjoyed Maazel's work at the podium. I am continually impressed at his ability to conduct large works without a score, and for a man of his age he is energetic and enthusiastic. The musicians adore him and their feelings show in the music they produce for him. All of his concerts have been excellent musically, and some of them have been utterly thrilling. I'm really excited he's leading the orchestra tonight, and I'll miss him when he's gone.

But the most captivating Philharmonic performances I've seen this past year have been with younger conductors leading the orchestra. Gustavo Dudamel's Mahler 5 in January was incredible. And Alan Gilbert's two concerts with the orchestra in May showed that the Philharmonic will be in great hands when he takes over as music director this fall. In choosing Gilbert to lead the Philharmonic, I think the orchestra implied that they want to go in a different direction. I can't wait to see where he leads them.

More Philharmonic history than you'll need

As I was leafing through the program at last Thursday's NY Philharmonic concert, I noticed an ad for the Philharmonic's new online performance history database, set to launch on June 22. I checked the orchestra's web site yesterday and found that the database had gone live as scheduled. You can search for any composer, performer, or concert from the orchestra's founding in 1842 up to the present day. I played around with the database for a few minutes, looking up various Philharmonic performances that I've attended in New York. Then I remembered a Philharmonic concert I attended at the Kennedy Center in Washington when I was a freshman at Georgetown. I searched for performances in Washington, DC during the 1992-93 season and found the one I attended. It was the Philharmonic's 11,990th performance and they played Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola, along with Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks and Barber's Adagio for Strings. The site even notes the time of the performance: 5 PM. I wonder where I went for dinner after the concert.

It's fun to look up artists to see how many times they've performed with the orchestra, or which works a particular conductor led, or how many times the Philharmonic has performed some of your favorite symphonies (they've played Mahler's Symphony No. 2 34 times in their history, and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony 107 times). I'm still looking for a more academic usage of the database. The search results don't link to program notes or artist bios, so they are without a historical context. The "about this search" page reads like this historical information is there, so maybe I've just missed it. But for a first effort at a task like this, the Philharmonic has done a phenomenal job.

Up front at the NY Philharmonic

We attended Thursday's performance of the NY Philharmonic with free tickets. Well, they weren't really free. I had two pairs of ticket vouchers for this season. One was for having bought my subscription extra early last year, and I used that voucher for last month's performance of Mahler's Symphony No. 1 with Alan Gilbert conducting. The other was for answering a long online survey about the Philharmonic's Summer Classics concert series. I don't remember which voucher I used for tonight's concert, but the point is that the tickets weren't my usual seats in the first tier. These seats were in row H of the orchestra section, to the right of the conductor's podium. So we were about 20 feet from Lorin Maazel when he took the stage to conduct two of his own works and Sibelius's Symphony No. 2.

I haven't sat up front for an orchestra concert before. I don't like being that close to the orchestra; it's impossible to see any of the musicians beyond the first two rows of strings. I like to watch the brass and percussion, but from our seats those instruments were just sounds coming from somewhere in the rear of the stage. However, the benefit of sitting that close was that we had a fantastic view of Maazel as he conducted, and we could see his rapport with Glenn Dicterow and the other principal strings. I especially enjoyed watching Maazel's gestures and facial expressions. He's not an animated conductor, so when his face became particularly emotional, it was clear what he was feeling and what he expected from his musicians. And watching Dicterow, for example, you could see the respect that the orchestra has for him. Maazel's two compositions were interesting, though I don't think I'll run out and buy recordings of them. There were some melodic moments in the second piece, but mostly it was loud bangs from the percussion and bleats and honks from the brass, with glissando string accompaniment. I've become more tolerant of atonal music as I've grown older, but it's still not really my thing.

The Sibelius symphony was as tonal as the first two works were atonal. I've always loved Sibelius's Second Symphony, and this performance was as exciting and energetic as I could have hoped. I know the work well but I'm not familiar with the details of the score. Maazel conducted without one, and as always I have no idea how he managed to get through a work full of tempo changes and dynamic adjustments without referring to the music. Even at his age, his command of the music is undiminished. The viola section was directly in front of us, so I could watch the musicians' fingers and note how they played certain passages. I was surprised to see that some musicians fingered a part one way while others used a different fingering. For some reason, I'd assumed that not only did Philharmonic musicians coordinate their bowings down to the inch, they used identical fingerings as well.

My favorite part of the night's performance was the last movement of the symphony. I know how the work ends, with broad brass chords and strings sawing away, but the buildup to the grandiose finale always fools me. The lead-up to the coda is a repeated minor key passage with the winds playing the melody and the strings playing a quiet accompaniment. The passage repeats, with the volume gradually increasing, but each time the orchestra reaches the end of the phrase, it returns to the minor key. I knew that the turn back to the major key was coming, but the repeated returns to the minor melody built the tension in a way I'd never felt just by listening to a recording. When the orchestra finally reached the major key turning point, Maazel gave a huge cue to the brass and there was a sense of glorious release. It was practically sexual, which I really didn't expect from Sibelius. But it really was that intense a feeling. I had chills throughout the last movement. I was out of my seat almost as soon as the music ended, and I had a brief sense that people sitting on that level aren't supposed to be that enthusiastic that quickly. But I didn't care.

Next weekend is Maazel's final concert series as music director of the Philharmonic, and they're performing another one of my favorite works: Mahler's Eighth Symphony. I'm going to next Friday's concert, and I'm already excited. You can expect more words on this subject in this space next week.