Fantasies, observations, social aphorisms appear from the thin gap between the solitude of the practice room and the anonymity of the orchestra rows.
You can‘t imagine it. The rush, the fear, the heartbeat, the breath, the emotion, the heat. With these words, »Singular Collective« dives into a world beyond the glamour usually associated with classical music. A world beneath the thin cover of tailcoats and bow ties, where the orchestra resembles a vast plain, a stationless place. Where it smells of tin and oil, wood and sweat.
Fantasies, observations, social aphorisms appear from the thin gap between the solitude of the practice room and the anonymity of the orchestra rows. The violinist who pretends to play and celebrates her silent art, the rejected trombonist who fears for the favor of a new general music director. The bad cellist who hangs on to his cello like a castaway, the late violinist who is not being waited for. The illusionary reality of a dress rehearsal. The unusual instruments that didn’t make it into the orchestral canon. Characters and scenes that come from the orchestral world and are read as commentaries on life.
