Dead Aim

The Mrs. and I recently went to hear the LA Philharmonic at the Walt Disney Concert Hall.

If you've never heard of it, the Walt Disney Concert Hall is a modern architectural wonder. As if out of the future, it’s a monument of twisted steel that gleams in the Southern California sunshine.

It’s beautiful actually. A friend of mind deemed it so sexy that he claims to have been physically aroused the first time he laid eyes on it.

While the sculpted exterior is breathtaking in a visual sense, the auditorium is just as awe-inspiring aurally. It’s supposedly one of the premiere acoustic venues in the entire world and creates an intimate connection between the orchestra and audience.

I must concur.

The music was amazing. Every note floated up to our nosebleed seats with absolute clarity. I swear you could hear the sound of the first violinist’s fingers sliding up and down the strings as he played. It would be difficult not to be impressed.

But a concert hall of near-perfect acoustics also has its disadvantages. As a matter of fact, the acoustics were so good that you could hear someone cough clear across the auditorium. So there I was, dressed in my Sunday’s best ready for a bit of high culture and completely distracted by the sounds around me.

How am I supposed to concentrate on listening to the nuances of great musical pieces in an environment like this? Every time there was a bit of silence you could hear the rustling of programs, a whisper or a wheeze.

That, and I swear I heard someone fart.