I’ve always wanted to attend a concert at Toronto’s Massey Hall and last night “wanted” became “did”. Loreena McKennitt sat on stage way below me, with a cellist and guitarist. They were accompanied by five tall candelabras, each hosting seven candles. Soft light was everywhere, including the ceiling, which reminded me of a cave’s stalactites. Massey Hall is a grand old building, erected in 1894. It has two horseshoe-shaped balconies.
And then there was Loreena, she of the soaring voice, and a love affair with the Celts and their music. She has travelled the world in search of their stories and we are the richer for it.
How can a blog post describe that voice? It flowed through me, vibrating. And so did runs from the cellist. I was brought to silence and then to wild clapping. Everything stopped inside and out. I believe we were all touched.
Within this aura were other things:
1. Staff members walking left and right across my field of vision during songs – at least thirty times.
2. The young woman sitting in front of me usually leaning forward, partially blocking my view of the performers. She had lovely long hair. At intermission, I asked the guy beside me a question about the ceiling lights. The person in front turned around to answer … and it was a man.
3. The cell phone of the woman beside me went off during a song. She managed to get it shut off but soon was perusing the glowing screen to find out the latest from her world.
4. I needed a bathroom break but so did a hundred other men. Washrooms were located next to the merchandise table so it was pedestrian gridlock, of the bursting bladder variety.
To all of which I say “So what?” The context of the evening was transcendental. No amount of life’s tiny travails could change that. I glowed along with Loreena.