Things I Can’t Photograph
The past couple of weeks have been highly busy, but wonderful from a number of different perspectives. One of those perspectives is that of concert-going. First, of course, was the artistry of Chanticleer, and this past weekend was another concert that I’ve been wanting to go to for a long time: Riverdance.
Ever since photography became a hobby a whopping, oh, six months ago or so I have grown accustomed to taking my camera with me more or less everywhere. Whenever I don’t have it with me, I generally find some way to wish I did, and concerts, where photography is disallowed, are no different. But in some ways, I’m very glad that I couldn’t attempt to take pictures of Riverdance; there’s no way my feeble attempts at photography could have captured even a fraction of the awesomeness of the concert.
I’m not normally a dance person. I love concerts of many varieties, so I wouldn’t dismiss, say, a ballet out of hand, but if I’m going to choose a concert it will almost always center around the music. And the music of Riverdance was superb. The fiddle, the bagpipes, the wooden flute, even the percussion got their well-deserved time in the limelight, and the fast-paced but cohesive structure of the program always left the audience hoping for more. Combine that with the ethereal vocals and the outstanding baritone soloist; well, I got far more excellent music than I bargained for.
But in spite of the quality of the music, it was overshadowed by the breathtaking dancing. I’m no expert, but I tend to be hard to impress - and “impressed” is far too small a term to describe what I thought. Not all of it was that superb, granted; they could have left out the Flamenco and Middle East ditties (both with an Irish flair, of course) and I wouldn’t have missed them, but the core of the program, the amazing Irish step dancing, was unbelievable. I wish I could describe it. The tap rhythms, the gymnastics, the passion and the humor, just never got old.
Great music, great dancing…great show.
At any rate, I also found a few things I could take pictures of…
Perhaps it was the Irish music, perhaps it was the gorgeous roses, or perhaps it was something else, but I couldn’t help but think of one of my favorite Irish love ballads from back when I used to sing this sort of thing regularly.
The Rose of Tralee
The pale moon was rising above the green mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea,
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in the beautiful vale of Tralee
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me.
Oh no! ’twas the truth in her eye ever beaming,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee…