Haydn and Mozart

Into town last night for a Handel & Haydn Society concert at Symphony Hall. Get the third work out of the day going up and down the MBTA stairways. Sir Roger Norrington is conducting for the first time. I notice that as the instrumentalists take their places, some are sitting in different areas of the circle than formerly. Sir Roger comes out to a full house. He's wearing an Asaian-looking shirt and black pants, while the orchestra is in tails (gents) or basic black evening (ladies). Sir Roger looks like a tall aging pixie. He conducts three pieces, all new to me. Haydn's Symphony No. 49 in F Minor, "La passione." Starts out with a long lugubrious Adagio, and becomes peppier as it goes along. Ends well, so all's well.

Robert Levin and Ya-Fei Chuang play the Concerto for Two Pianos in E-Flat Major, K. 365 (Mozart). Lots of humor in the piece and they ham it up a little, but the music, which is Mozart at his most charming, is easy on the ears. Sir Roger hams it up a bit, too. Altogether very satisfying.

The last piece is another new Haydn, the so-called "Drum Roll" symphone No. 103 in E-Flat Major, a key I've always been partial to since my piano playing days of yore. Very spirited and again, somehow typically Haydn, which the first piece wasn't. Standing ovation. Sir Roger seems pleased. Audience definitely pleased. Tympani player takes bow.

The Friday night crowd at symphony hall is more stylish than the Sunday afternoon crowd, and definitely better dressed than the ART bunch, but they still look very Boston. Intermission gives me a chance to actually look at what people are wearing. I'm still in shock that I thought tailored blazers were a wardrobe staple. Most people in sweaters, lambswool from the look of them. A few, mostly older (eeek) women in blazers. Unstructured jackets for the most part, a few dresses, a few hideousities, but a decently dressed crowd, without sartorial splendor, shall we say? Warm evening, so the sweaters aren't heavy. I am wearing my stylish new Nordstrom jacket (not tailored) and high-heeled boots which make a clunk-clunk-clunk sound as I descend into the subway.

We high-tail it to Brasserie Jo along with a crowd of others. More good people watching, up close. In the corner, a French woman, obviously knowledgeable about wine and unafraid to intimidate her American date with all this wine lore. For some reason, he is drinking a beer and a glass a wine. I didn't listen, but I suspect she insisted he drink the wine. Think this relationship isn't going anywhere.

Next to us, two women having a light post-concert meal. I gape at the chic way one of them has tied her scarf. She also has one a really cool metal belt. Belting down a salad, too, wouldn't you know?

The most interesting table is three men, two middle-aged and one young. Look a little foreign. I guess Russian and never know for sure. Red wine all around, although the young one really looks too young to drink. Leather jackets over the chair backs. They eat the carrot stick appetizers with forks, which confirms their foreignness. One eats his meal like a peasant, and his son is going after the chicken bones with his fingers. Very interesting. Pick up the meat in your hands but not the carrot sticks. I tell myself little stories.

S.O. has bread pudding and my crepes suzettes are too thick and not tender enough. All right, but I wouldn't order them again. Should have had the lemon tart with the fruit compote.

As usual, the T going to Park Street is full of young folks on their way into town for music and dancing. When we exit at Quincy Adams we are the only ones in the car.

Welcome to Boston, Sir Roger.