On one of those rare mornings when everything falls into place (including this time finding an easy way to change my name on my birth certificate) I spot an advertisement for music very close to home.
That’s the night my friend’s sleeping over. She’s keen, so I buy the tickets, and we drive off into low 7 pm sun that makes the road ahead disappear in its blaze. We settle in All Saints under the neo-Gothic (?) arches, on wider seats than Warsaw cathedrals provide.
What a treat we’re in for. The music is familiar, but played with a verve and enthusiasm that renews it. Although we are listening to the Chamber Philharmonia Cologne, the performers are international: two Germans, a Finn, a Pole who lives in Queensland, a French woman, and two Australians, playing three violins, a viola, a double bass, a cello and a flute. The players are obviously enjoying themselves: the interaction between them, both musical and personal, is lively.
I’m no music critic, but I suspect what we hear are virtuoso performances. Michal Rosiak, flautist and MC, demonstrates Polish humour and mischief as he introduces the members of the group, and then he pours an endless stream of breath through that silver flute creating the song of Vivaldi’s goldfinch. Sergey Didorenko’s fingers fly over the strings of his violin at a speed that looks impossible. The flute was my favourite performance – until the rich tones of Christoph Jahn’s cello playing Tchaikovsky filled the church and my heart.
We drove home though cooling air under a full moon replete with sound.
