Ogden 1

Josh Ogden
Lisa Griffin
English 1010
Sept. 22, 2016
Observations of a Concert on Temple Square
I know it is going to be a long evening as I pack up my cello and head out the door. It is
3:30 on a school-less Friday and Im getting into my car, decked out in a slick black tuxedo, with
my music on my back and my cello in my hand. As I anticipate the daunting concert Im going to
play in my stomach flutters with both excitement and nervousness. I look fondly at the pristine
mountains to the east, their rugged blue and green peaks shadowed by fat, fluffy clouds, and feel
privileged to live in the midst of such beauty. Next thing I know Im speeding north along 1-15,
looking ahead to the gleaming white temple in the distance cradled by what are known by Utah
standards as skyscrapers.
Exiting the freeway my eyes are assailed by the more ghetto part of town, dotted with
graffitied tattoo parlors and rundown nightclubs and bars. As I drive steadily north and east the
buildings become increasingly larger and well-kept. I stop at a light and look to the left to see the
arena with its curved sides and gleaming stripes of windows swiping across its face proudly
displays the words Vivint SmartHome Arena in orange bubble text across its top. A sign out
front boldly proclaims the next big star coming to play a concert to its thousands of packed seats.
A glance to the right finds two couples, presumably on a date, riding around on remote controlled
couches (yes you read that right). They know how to ride in style. Beyond them lies the angular
gray shape that is Abravanel Hall, the orange sculpture with tendrils of glass leaping out like a

Ogden 2
cylinder of flame just visible through its large glass side, and beyond that Mormon central,
with the sparkling castle-like temple rising above the wall surrounding the square. Its dwarfed
by the surrounding buildings but yet seems to be the focal point of the whole block.
Presently Im walking across the plaza towards the mysterious but welcoming walls of
temple square. I step through the open gates and my eyes are greeted by immaculate patches of
garden and smiling sister missionaries guiding flocks of Asian tourists around, enthralled by the
towering granite walls of the temple. To my right and straight ahead lies the large silver dome of
the tabernacle, towards which I wheel my cello with purpose. Walking through the underground
tunnels and up onto the stage Im surrounded by a wall of rebounding sound. Every noise I make
echoes like the Grand Canyon, and every note I play is lush and full. Soon enough everyone is on
stage producing a beautiful cacophony of reverberating sound: fluttering flutes, vivid violins,
towering trumpets, all spinning around me in an endless dance of tuning instruments. The oboe
sounds the A and the rehearsal begins.
It is now 7:00 PM and Im sitting in the same spot. Across from me are the first violins
again, this time in concert black, concentration evident on their faces as they warm up. To my
right the formerly empty choir loft is now full of teenagers and young adults, members of the
choir, chattering like birds. The now bright lights make the organ pipes shine like gold. To my
left the pews are now filled with babbling people, audience members in all stages of life. There
are elderly people in floral dresses and tweed jackets, excited teenagers in pencil skirts and tightfitting white shirts, and smiling parents snapping pictures of their unaware teens on stage.
Suddenly a microphone blares, and a somewhat heavy-set man in a black pinstripe suit
announces all the performers of the night: us (the Lyceum Youth Philharmonic), Paul Cardall,
and Nathan Pacheco, as well as the Institute and American Heritage youth choruses. He begins

Ogden 3
the concert, the conductor raises his baton, and the orchestra enraptures the audience in the lush
sound of music.
The lights are dim, the atmosphere is warm and peaceful, and if I werent focused on
playing my best I could fall asleep here, wrapped in the arms of rich harmony. We begin with a
piece written for only orchestra; the strings swell in with high, piercing harmonies, steadily
expanding until the low bass comes in and completes the resonance. Soon the winds and brass
come in, rising above the strings in an ethereal cloud of sound. We continue like this, piece after
piece, with Paul eventually joining us on the piano. His first song begins with simple chords, low
and sweet, with a simple cello solo to complete them. Soon the whole string section joins, chords
swelling out of nothing to everything and back to nothing again. Then the winds and piano
emerge, with the violins joining them in the melody, simple but spectacular. A few songs later
Nathan comes onstage, his strong, resonant voice carrying messages of peace and comfort to the
willing ears of the audience. Finally, as we play the last song, the brass soars over the strings, the
choir belts out its lyrics, and the organ grabs us all by the shirt and drags us through it all. It ends
with a crash and the crowd is on its feet whistling and clapping and I cant help grinning.
Walking out the doors Im swarmed with the people thronging the walkway, all rushing to
congratulate their children and friends. The dewy smell has been replaced with the still, crisp air
of the cool night. The moon is silvery and bright above me, the sky is a deep gray, almost black,
and the lights of the city shine all around the square. The music has stopped but it still buzzes
through my excited brain as a wheel my cello back to my car.