Scarlet Coil
"I mean, what do we think of, when we think of Brahms? Dramatic! Ah- moody! ...and so-"
"Corny!" groans Minoth, slapping the radio's power button and listening to WARI crackle gracefully out.
It's not that Addam Origo is a bad conductor; quite the opposite, he's exactly as hare-brained as one needs to be without the raging god-complex pride. Thomas A. Malthus (always mind the A in TAM, always mind the A) is certainly strange, but he's not lovably weird, and he has all the undeserved pride to go with it. SASO always sounds sort of...limp, under his direction, after Tikkaram rumbled off. The notes are correct, sure, but at what cost? And not always that.
Malthus, by this same token, hasn't half the sway he'd need with the financially-minded board to stop Origo from guest conducting their winter pops concert - and it's a pops concert, so who even cares?
Minoth Castigo has always peddled his orchestral swagger by two prevailing principles: 1. I don't want to be anywhere near a group where I'm the best player; at best, it's boring, and at worst, it's painful. 2. Don't get attached to the conductors; it never ends well.
Now, attachment can mean many things, in that last. Sometimes it's just a question of arising irrevocable intercomparison (again, the painful). Sometimes it's about the summer. Sometimes it's about retirement. Here, it means "don't get a crush on a man who neatly bullstamps your every last nerve and works on a payscale you can't imagine in your day job" which is much more dramatic than the usual bout of endearing eccentricity, but that's Brahms for you, isn't it?
You don't play Brahms at a pops concert. No, that interview was Mr. Origo's offering upon his half-trod season cycle of the four symphonies, complete with the various overtures, academic and tragic, and the various concertos. And of course, TornOrch can get away with a stunt like that, while community groups need to swing commercial and waste precious stage time on Broadway bullshit. It's a rotten, rotten business, Minoth thinks, as he lugs his stool into the Indoline private school TAM has them rehearse in for half price, or free, that makes me get tired of Broadway.
(This concert happens to be sparkling music of the Leftherian isles, which is better, but still...call Minoth a bat for the old purists, but it just doesn't feel like eating your vegetables.)
No chance Origo even pays attention to him, after all. Vandham's a show-up type of guy, unlike some horns Minoth could name, and even though Minoth's seen worse for "principals with stupid questions" this concert does involve an amp, so there's sure to be plenty of distraction.
Unless...?
Unless Addam looks to him for interface with the old sod, since peculiars is peculiars no matter how many grand tiers you've got.
Unless.
And this is why Minoth has his rules, but so much for giving himself very good advice.
He settles in behind a fold of the curtain and pulls his stand up over his face.
Crap. Hopefully WARI isn't still running in the car.
The position of a bassist is a perfect one for spying. Second violins get winks and violas get nods, and thankfully Addam doesn't seem to be the kind of insufferable determined to wank up the concertmaster at any given opportunity, instead preoccupied with clueing the cellos in on when they unison the bassoons.
Bassoon's a handsome instrument. Addam's a handsome player. And Minoth is spying.
And then he's caught spying. Oh, during breaks it's the conductor's job to stand at the podium and field questions from fastidious woodwinds, and speak as if old friends with the concertmaster no matter how much they like or dislike each other, and those who go around shaking hands and saying hellos are really delinquent, aren't they?
Still, Minoth's been caught.
"Minoth?"
Personnel list, must be.
"Maestro," the player nods politely.
But Origo is none dogged. "How are you liking it?"
"Oh, it's wonderful."
"You're wonderful! Really strong rhythms, in these."
What kind of nutcase just drops that and runs? Off he goes, to twinkle at the substitute principal clarinet.
He doesn't cause too much trouble, over the next couple of rehearsals. But he does cause a little bit. A little bit of...philandering. And there are...smiles, exchanged. And not only that.
Don't get attached!
But attachment's looking good...
"Do you like Brahms?"
Addam's face is so open and earnest, it almost belies the confidence shoring up the expression. This is a man who knows he has power, doesn't want to abuse it, but will use it if he can use it to help - and maybe that helping is himself, sometimes, so be it!
Or something like that. Minoth figures he can get along with it. If it'd been him asking, he'd probably have slid it half into a dig: So, you like Brahms, huh? Couldn't be me.
But the trouble is, Minoth does like Brahms. And he very much does like Addam.
What the hell?
(Famous last words.)
"Well, I have been known to be a little dramatic and moody."
Addam's face comes fully alight.
"Wait a minute. Aren't you married?"
Addam smiles. "And we love each other dearly! But we're both gay."
It's not the kind of thing that'd ever be admitted, half a century ago. It's surely not the kind of thing Thomas A. Malthus appreciates, even if he'd never say so.
Is it an invitation, though?
(He twinkles at the clarinetist again.)
Minoth supposes it might as well be.
"You love nepotism, or something?"
Addam laughs, nervously. "Ah...not quite."
"Better think, there. Auditions are auditions."
Even if Minoth thinks charismatic personality and culture fit should play fairly well foremost into the well-groomed ensemble.
So Minoth adds a third rule to his list: 3. The most interesting person in an orchestra is always gonna be the one who's smiling; if that's the conductor, it can never be a bad sign.