All sorts of bassoonery

I went to a concert last night.

No, no, not one of these:






One of these: 







I didn't go in with a lot of expectations. Which turned out to be good, because I would have been sorely disappointed otherwise.

The main reason I didn't enjoy this concert was how distracted I was. There were several aspects of the concert that were downright distracting to me.

For instance, the people with the curvy trumpets. What are they doing with their other hand? Do they put it in the trumpet mouth, or is that just an illusion? Also, I'll be straight with you, I don't know what an oboe looks like. But it sounds like a weird looking instrument. So when these guys came out with these giant wood things, I assumed they were oboes. I was later informed that they are, in fact, bassoons. Either way, you can bet none of the players looked as classy as this.

Before last night, if you had asked me to pick a band instrument to be proficient at, it would have been easy. The saxophone. Mostly so I could hang out in blues clubs and tell women I "play the sax". Also, because this guy is awesome:



You'd be surprised at how much of my life has been influenced by the Simpsons. But that's a story for another time.

So, while I've always wanted to play the sax, I find myself wondering if perhaps the bassoon is not my imaginary calling after all. It's bigger, more obscure, and perhaps most importantly, not as important. When the band plays, I can recognize the saxophone. I can recognize the flute and the trombone and the cymbals. But for the life of me I have no idea what a bassoon sounds like. For all I know, these guys could just be chilling in the back for the whole concert, talking about how awesome their bassoons are. (2 points if you get the alliteration on that one)

But, I digress. A man can only talk about bassoons for so long. There was one other aspect of the concert that really peeved my privates (don't ask).

What's with the clapping, guys?

It just keeps going, and going. Not even at the end of the concert, where I can understand giving a general "Right on" to the performers. Nope. After every piece, we feel the need to just clippity clap it up for like 5 minutes. I give a good 10 seconds of clapping, and then sit there awkwardly as everyone is going crazy like they just saw the greatest performance of their life.

But, such is life. Full of mysteries and disappointments. Failures and triumphs.

So it goes.