Mahler (not to be mistaken for somebody who goes to the mall)

I'm not the biggest fan of classical music. Well I don't mind it so much if I don't have to sit there and watch it being played. Once when I was attending an hour long student violin recital with my room mate Belinda, I had a sudden epiphany before I fell asleep in the middle of it: I will not let my kids learn piano or violin because I don't want to have to sit through their concerts and pretend to enjoy them. Call me the wicked mother, but at least I will not be a hypocritical one.

Which was why it was with dread that I agreed to go with Andrea to a symphonic concert up in Salt Lake city last weekend. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Utah orchestra were performing "Mahler's 2nd Symphony" and it was apparently going to be a big deal. As I wriggled into my seat, I glanced at the program, trying to read up on the next two hours of my life. Skipping over all the fancy music terminology, all I could glean was that it was going to be about a hero's funeral, nostalgia about his past, and eventual resurrection. Intense stuff.

Even without lyrics, somehow the music spoke and unfolded the story to me as I could have never imagined it. In my mind's eye, the hero morphed into a courageous but convoluted figure - he was disciplined yet passionate, tender yet crude and his funeral - oh those cellists! Their bows hacked the poor man's soul into pieces, lamenting his passing yet confining him to the bounds of mortality. But wait! The bugles sounded in the distance - could it really be? The choir of angels appeared and summoned fallen soldiers from remote lands and star-crossed lovers from their watery graves and called the most common of the commoners to stand forth to be resurrected.

By the time the symphony ended, I was sitting on the edge of my seat, mesmerized. One of the music buffs we rode back with claimed that Mahler had "made his weekend, no wait, his week, no, his Thanksgiving!" To which, his equally enthusiastic friend upped his game and claimed that Mahler had made his year. While I did not think that Mahler was life-changing, it was probably life-changing for my future children: sorry kids, it's back to the piano for you.