Last Saturday, the Barneys invited us to a concert in Detroit. It was the National Arab Orchestra. When Amber first invited me, I had to pause on the phone because I couldn't understand why, of all concerts offered in Detroit, that would be the one she would choose. In fact, I wanted to look them up to make sure they were legitimate before I said yes. Turns out they are, and it all made sense when Amber told me that Sage would be singing with them.
Yes, in some strange turn of events, Chelsea High School choir program does a lot of "building bridges" between themselves and the two high schools in Detroit whose population is made up completely of children of Middle Easterners. I know that it seems like I should be a Muslim population, but as we learned at the concert, many of the people from the Middle East (at least the ones who lives around Detroit) are actually Christian.
First though, Ryan wanted to eat at a restaurant a stone's throw from the airport called Beirut. It was such a hole in the wall, but it was hopping. The tables couldn't cleared fast enough, and for those not wanting to wait, there was take-out as well. Obviously, we aren't that courageous because we all got some sort of mixed shawarma along with a hummus appetizer. If I'm being honest, I like Athenian Cafe in Altoona, and Mark's shawarma better.
We then headed to the "Music Hall" in downtown Detroit. It is so funny listening to how much people dread driving into Detroit. The traffic is always the main complaint. I guess my weekly bumper-to-bumper drives into downtown Philly set a standard for me, because with traffic that actually moves dangerously fast in Detroit, I don't see any problem at all.
Wow. Talk about feeling out of place! Once we walked into the hall, Amber's blonde hair stood out like a sore thumb. I have never been in a sea of so many black clothes, black hair and dark eyes. And accents. Holy smokes, it's been a while since I've been among people I can't understand. And this was obviously an evening out for many of these folks--I spotted skin-tight leather pants on women larger than me, jewels, and stilettos. And I thought I had dressed up, choosing to wear my brown corduroys ;-) And although I wasn't privy to the smells, John said where we were sitting, there were at least ten varieties of colognes and perfumes.
So 8:00 (the time the concert was supposed to begin) rolled around. I was sitting there, wondering when everyone was going to take their seats. There was a random guy on stage taking pictures, and a woman in the aisle being interviewed by a camera crew. People were talking very loudly at the bar just two rows behind me (who puts a bar in the actual auditorium), and nobody was sitting down. I kid you not, nothing happened for another 25 minutes!
I ask you--do Arab people run late? Is that a thing? I thought about the 200 high school kids waiting in the wings. Didn't they need to get home at some point?
It didn't take me long to realize that this concert was going to be unlike any other I had ever attended.
People continued to arrive for an hour after the concert began, and there was no thought about finding their seats in between musical numbers. They just walked in and around the hall, looking for their seats, with the ushers pointing the flashlights up, down and all around, including straight in our faces. And all those bar folks? They would just lazily walk up and down the aisles, drinks in hands.
Unbelievably, one guy walked in at 8:45, climbed over people in our row, and sat down with great fanfare. When the people whom we had gotten know behind him began to play back their recording of the concert so far, with volume turned all the way up (because they couldn't hear the recording over the actual live music), he had the gall to turn around and get mad at them. And I kid you not, they had a verbal argument right there during the concert.
The best arrivals looked like they had just stepped out of Iraqi's version of The Bachelor. Some very scantily-clad, 20-something women walked in around 9:00. They were obviously looking to make an entrance more than just attend the concert. I found it remarkable to contrast them with the women who take care to strictly adhere to the Muslim standards of modesty. What they must think of each other!
So the music. That's why we were there, right? To hear music?
I honestly couldn't tell on the program what was the name of the number and who was the composer ;-) It took some actual looking at things to figure it out.
So here's how I'll describe pretty much every number on the program:
When I had researched the actual "orchestra", pictures were shown of a decent-sized string section. This was a lie ("it was for a BABY"). Yes, there were about ten string players, but the rest of the "orchestra" was four sets of lap drums, and three very interesting Middle Eastern instruments (I have no idea what they were called, because as everyone knows, I'm terrible with accents and could understand nothing that was said).
When some guitar-like instrument was plucked, the strings "tuned" to it. I'm not sure what their tuning standards are, but they obviously don't include IN tune. And one of the violinists was obviously trying to hear the vibrations of the note, because he caught the eye of the guitarist when tuning and motioned in big circling motions (with bow in hand) to play the note again. And again.
Each number took a minimum of 20 minutes to perform, with the second number going for 35 minutes. Yes, 35 minutes. Okay, you might think, any standard orchestral work is 35 minutes long (three movements), but this was some very famous singer man who basically sang what sounded like the "call to prayer". Ahhhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh. Up and down the scale. In fact, at times, the orchestra was just asked to follow him along with the conductor moving his hands up and down (like higher and lower) to tell the strings which direction to slide their fingers on the neck of the violin.
And speaking of the conductor, he was from the same Mr. Robinson School of Bad Conducting. He conducted the notes--like, he struck a beat whenever the strings should change notes. And about five minutes in, I asked John where the flute-like instrument was because I couldn't see any woodwind players. He quickly turned to me with, "It's the conductor." Sure enough, he was playing an instrument that looked like a combination of a flute and clarinet. But he never turned around to play to the audience. He had a whole trunk of these kinds of instruments, standing at the ready next to his conducting platform, and he would just reach down and pick one out of the box. And when he wasn't doing that, he was dancing, or watching the soloist and clapping along, or motioning out to all of us to clap.
People in the audience clapped, sang along, and cheered. As John said about halfway through, "This is just an Arab rock concert."
I have to give props to the drum section. Those men held everything together. And they didn't stop playing the entire night. If Arabs can do something right in regards to music, they can keep the beat!
One of the stranger things of the night was seeing the violin soloist play an extensive part of purely Arab music (lots of sliding around on that neck), but when we got a closer look, we noticed that he was a total GINGER. Red hair. Red beard. Is he some kind of imposter, or a recessive freak?
After TWO HOURS, the high school kids came on stage, and all 300 of them stood on four risers. Knowing what we know about lights and stages, we were ready for one to go down and for the rest to topple like dominos. They were singing "Dancing in the Street" by Stevie Wonder (?) However, yet another Arab soloist came out, bedecked in every sparkle imaginable, and ended up singing the main song well (and in English), but that led into 15 minutes of "let's let every instrument on stage do a solo a la your high school jazz band. Saxophones and other various brass instruments had been brought out on stage, and the first saxophone to launch into his solo sent a very large reed *SQUEAK* over the microphone. Oh that's right, I forgot to mention that there were at least ten microphones up on stage, and the volume was almost too much for Amber. So those poor high school kids, corralled up on stage like cattle, ended up standing there for a good 20 minutes, only to be allowed to sing back-up to the soloist at the end of the song for less than five.
And the best part of the evening so far? The orchestra had collaborated with the Arab Historical Society to find photos and videos of Arabs from the Detroit area from the past 50 or so years. So while the jazz band was riffing it (basically the entire concert was riffing), the videos and photos were displayed behind the orchestra, only with the stage lights on, we could hardly see them. But seeing Klinger-like people, bedecked with 80s hair and shoulder pads, dancing in Greek-like circles to some random music? Priceless.
And after ALL of this? It was only the intermission!
Daddy turned to the Barneys during intermission, and in a first time for him, he told the Barneys, "We're going to leave after Sage sings her next song, right?" Daddy? Leave a concert early? He was pale from the heat and people and sitting so long, and as he told me afterwards, he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin because every song was just so dang long. And the people next to us were also from Chelsea, and when we told them that we came with the Barneys, the mom said to us, "Oh, you are good friends, coming to this. Our daughter's boyfriend came too, but he had to walk out after an hour."
Thankfully, Sage sang in the second song after the intermission. It was hilarious to see the contingent of Aryan, Chelsea highschool parents who all stood up in unison after that song was over and walked out. It was like the "last helicopter out of VIETNAM!"
I'll give us credit. We had a definite cultural experience. But please, let me see Aida in Verona, or walk in the Sankt Martin's parade through Preist. Anything but this again!
Amber then wanted to wait outside, in 20 degree cold, to see Sage get on the bus. We saw everyone else (including one of my Laurels, holding hands with her girlfriend), but somehow we missed Sage. But we did get a phone call from her on the way home. She wanted us to stop and get her some Middle Eastern food. I told her that she could have my leftovers....
Yes, in some strange turn of events, Chelsea High School choir program does a lot of "building bridges" between themselves and the two high schools in Detroit whose population is made up completely of children of Middle Easterners. I know that it seems like I should be a Muslim population, but as we learned at the concert, many of the people from the Middle East (at least the ones who lives around Detroit) are actually Christian.
First though, Ryan wanted to eat at a restaurant a stone's throw from the airport called Beirut. It was such a hole in the wall, but it was hopping. The tables couldn't cleared fast enough, and for those not wanting to wait, there was take-out as well. Obviously, we aren't that courageous because we all got some sort of mixed shawarma along with a hummus appetizer. If I'm being honest, I like Athenian Cafe in Altoona, and Mark's shawarma better.
We then headed to the "Music Hall" in downtown Detroit. It is so funny listening to how much people dread driving into Detroit. The traffic is always the main complaint. I guess my weekly bumper-to-bumper drives into downtown Philly set a standard for me, because with traffic that actually moves dangerously fast in Detroit, I don't see any problem at all.
Wow. Talk about feeling out of place! Once we walked into the hall, Amber's blonde hair stood out like a sore thumb. I have never been in a sea of so many black clothes, black hair and dark eyes. And accents. Holy smokes, it's been a while since I've been among people I can't understand. And this was obviously an evening out for many of these folks--I spotted skin-tight leather pants on women larger than me, jewels, and stilettos. And I thought I had dressed up, choosing to wear my brown corduroys ;-) And although I wasn't privy to the smells, John said where we were sitting, there were at least ten varieties of colognes and perfumes.
So 8:00 (the time the concert was supposed to begin) rolled around. I was sitting there, wondering when everyone was going to take their seats. There was a random guy on stage taking pictures, and a woman in the aisle being interviewed by a camera crew. People were talking very loudly at the bar just two rows behind me (who puts a bar in the actual auditorium), and nobody was sitting down. I kid you not, nothing happened for another 25 minutes!
I ask you--do Arab people run late? Is that a thing? I thought about the 200 high school kids waiting in the wings. Didn't they need to get home at some point?
It didn't take me long to realize that this concert was going to be unlike any other I had ever attended.
People continued to arrive for an hour after the concert began, and there was no thought about finding their seats in between musical numbers. They just walked in and around the hall, looking for their seats, with the ushers pointing the flashlights up, down and all around, including straight in our faces. And all those bar folks? They would just lazily walk up and down the aisles, drinks in hands.
Unbelievably, one guy walked in at 8:45, climbed over people in our row, and sat down with great fanfare. When the people whom we had gotten know behind him began to play back their recording of the concert so far, with volume turned all the way up (because they couldn't hear the recording over the actual live music), he had the gall to turn around and get mad at them. And I kid you not, they had a verbal argument right there during the concert.
The best arrivals looked like they had just stepped out of Iraqi's version of The Bachelor. Some very scantily-clad, 20-something women walked in around 9:00. They were obviously looking to make an entrance more than just attend the concert. I found it remarkable to contrast them with the women who take care to strictly adhere to the Muslim standards of modesty. What they must think of each other!
So the music. That's why we were there, right? To hear music?
I honestly couldn't tell on the program what was the name of the number and who was the composer ;-) It took some actual looking at things to figure it out.
So here's how I'll describe pretty much every number on the program:
When I had researched the actual "orchestra", pictures were shown of a decent-sized string section. This was a lie ("it was for a BABY"). Yes, there were about ten string players, but the rest of the "orchestra" was four sets of lap drums, and three very interesting Middle Eastern instruments (I have no idea what they were called, because as everyone knows, I'm terrible with accents and could understand nothing that was said).
When some guitar-like instrument was plucked, the strings "tuned" to it. I'm not sure what their tuning standards are, but they obviously don't include IN tune. And one of the violinists was obviously trying to hear the vibrations of the note, because he caught the eye of the guitarist when tuning and motioned in big circling motions (with bow in hand) to play the note again. And again.
Each number took a minimum of 20 minutes to perform, with the second number going for 35 minutes. Yes, 35 minutes. Okay, you might think, any standard orchestral work is 35 minutes long (three movements), but this was some very famous singer man who basically sang what sounded like the "call to prayer". Ahhhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh. Up and down the scale. In fact, at times, the orchestra was just asked to follow him along with the conductor moving his hands up and down (like higher and lower) to tell the strings which direction to slide their fingers on the neck of the violin.
And speaking of the conductor, he was from the same Mr. Robinson School of Bad Conducting. He conducted the notes--like, he struck a beat whenever the strings should change notes. And about five minutes in, I asked John where the flute-like instrument was because I couldn't see any woodwind players. He quickly turned to me with, "It's the conductor." Sure enough, he was playing an instrument that looked like a combination of a flute and clarinet. But he never turned around to play to the audience. He had a whole trunk of these kinds of instruments, standing at the ready next to his conducting platform, and he would just reach down and pick one out of the box. And when he wasn't doing that, he was dancing, or watching the soloist and clapping along, or motioning out to all of us to clap.
People in the audience clapped, sang along, and cheered. As John said about halfway through, "This is just an Arab rock concert."
I have to give props to the drum section. Those men held everything together. And they didn't stop playing the entire night. If Arabs can do something right in regards to music, they can keep the beat!
One of the stranger things of the night was seeing the violin soloist play an extensive part of purely Arab music (lots of sliding around on that neck), but when we got a closer look, we noticed that he was a total GINGER. Red hair. Red beard. Is he some kind of imposter, or a recessive freak?
After TWO HOURS, the high school kids came on stage, and all 300 of them stood on four risers. Knowing what we know about lights and stages, we were ready for one to go down and for the rest to topple like dominos. They were singing "Dancing in the Street" by Stevie Wonder (?) However, yet another Arab soloist came out, bedecked in every sparkle imaginable, and ended up singing the main song well (and in English), but that led into 15 minutes of "let's let every instrument on stage do a solo a la your high school jazz band. Saxophones and other various brass instruments had been brought out on stage, and the first saxophone to launch into his solo sent a very large reed *SQUEAK* over the microphone. Oh that's right, I forgot to mention that there were at least ten microphones up on stage, and the volume was almost too much for Amber. So those poor high school kids, corralled up on stage like cattle, ended up standing there for a good 20 minutes, only to be allowed to sing back-up to the soloist at the end of the song for less than five.
And the best part of the evening so far? The orchestra had collaborated with the Arab Historical Society to find photos and videos of Arabs from the Detroit area from the past 50 or so years. So while the jazz band was riffing it (basically the entire concert was riffing), the videos and photos were displayed behind the orchestra, only with the stage lights on, we could hardly see them. But seeing Klinger-like people, bedecked with 80s hair and shoulder pads, dancing in Greek-like circles to some random music? Priceless.
And after ALL of this? It was only the intermission!
Daddy turned to the Barneys during intermission, and in a first time for him, he told the Barneys, "We're going to leave after Sage sings her next song, right?" Daddy? Leave a concert early? He was pale from the heat and people and sitting so long, and as he told me afterwards, he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin because every song was just so dang long. And the people next to us were also from Chelsea, and when we told them that we came with the Barneys, the mom said to us, "Oh, you are good friends, coming to this. Our daughter's boyfriend came too, but he had to walk out after an hour."
Thankfully, Sage sang in the second song after the intermission. It was hilarious to see the contingent of Aryan, Chelsea highschool parents who all stood up in unison after that song was over and walked out. It was like the "last helicopter out of VIETNAM!"
I'll give us credit. We had a definite cultural experience. But please, let me see Aida in Verona, or walk in the Sankt Martin's parade through Preist. Anything but this again!
Amber then wanted to wait outside, in 20 degree cold, to see Sage get on the bus. We saw everyone else (including one of my Laurels, holding hands with her girlfriend), but somehow we missed Sage. But we did get a phone call from her on the way home. She wanted us to stop and get her some Middle Eastern food. I told her that she could have my leftovers....
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