On the evening of Oct. 19, the SCI courtyard was transformed into an open-air concert hall for the Richardson Symphony Orchestra’s Sunset Serenade.
At 6:30 p.m., the sky was still lit, seemingly unusual for a sunset-based concert with the tag “under the stars.” Though I felt it was too early to begin, the orchestra was ready and waiting under spotlights for the moment they could play. I found my way to one of the only open benches at the opposite end of the space, thinking that I might be late because of the turnout.
Despite having very little advertising — I personally only saw one lawn sign prior to the event — about the orchestra, it was overwhelmingly crowded. Every inch of the grass was taken over by families, students and couples swathed in blankets, eagerly waiting in their foldable chairs. In this unexpectedly diverse crowd, people across generations seemed to find a common resonance with the shared space.
In this unexpectedly diverse crowd, people across generations seemed to find a common resonance with the shared space.
The maestro spoke casually to the crowd, his conversational tone a contrast to the suspenseful music to come as he outlined the evening’s highlights. His speech promised an interactive lesson on how to conduct a piece from “How to Train your Dragon” for the young ones. Mention of the worldwide box office hit that pulled on the heartstrings of an entire generation 15 years ago spread murmurs of excitement through the crowd.
In the outdoor space, the environment captivated the audience as much as the music did. Personally, as one of my favorite themes from the movie “Superman” began playing, I was reminded of what the movie symbolized: hope — and with that, the dimming skies near the Sciences building felt nothing short of profound. The atmosphere drew people in. Students stopped by in passing and took a moment to hear the orchestra play a familiar tune.
The program included decades-old music as well as the current-day hits. One such soundtrack, a classic of Steven Spielberg, brought anticipation to the crowd with its ominous and foreboding introduction — none other than the “Jaws” theme.
While “Jaws” fit the orchestral abilities that we assumed the Richardson Symphony could perform, I would have never thought a nursery rhyme such as “Pop goes the Weasel” would be played. Despite catering to younger crowds, even I found myself resonating with the music with its mix between hip hop and classical beats.
Despite catering to younger crowds, even I found myself resonating with the music with its mix between hip hop and classical beats.
Every transition and song had a similar theme but unique vibe, keeping audiences on their toes. With only a brief intro of the song name between performances, the orchestra kept playing back-to-back. The crowd was as lively as the music — faces lit with smiles in the approaching night — and we hadn’t reached the main event yet.
The maestro asked the audience to stand up. All this time, he has been silently guiding the orchestra with gestures and waves. Kids had been eagerly waiting to participate since the maestro had hinted at teaching them the ways of conducting. They hopped up on benches to see the maestro show the basics of simple conducting waves: up and down, side to side. Following suit, kids waved their sticks with streamers, the ribbon tracing the path of their motions. This time, instead of music, I could hear the quiet shrieks and giggles of excitement filling the crowd’s energy with a gentle playfulness.
I stared into the crowd, waiting impatiently for the symphony to revisit one of my favorite animated movies. In that excitement, I imagined the streamers held high like dragons flying across the night sky. The maestro spun around and the music began once more, now playing the classic theme song, “Test Drive.” We could feel the treble, bass, the triumph and thrill of flying on dragons through the clouds.
It sounds silly to those unfamiliar with the film, but John Powell’s unanticipated masterpiece from “How to Train Your Dragon” felt powerful: joys and melancholy mixed into a three minute symphony. While some songs that evening called for a vocal response from the crowd, this one kept us quietly listening, trancelike, as personal memories overtook each of us. As the song ended, we assumed that nothing would compare to that experience. But the magic wasn’t over.
The Richardson Symphony Orchestra emphasizes the inclusivity of their program, both with the selection of music, the open venue and with their interaction with the audience. In a most wholesome and unexpected way, the conductor brought the microphone to a child in the audience. The honorary emcee announced Pharrell Williams’ “Happy,” a song that even a decade later proved to be a crowd pleaser.
The hype surrounding the song that took over the world 12 years ago was revived in those few moments. People threw their worries aside for a moment. The maestro danced to the music he conducted, amplifying the power of the orchestra, not by mere sound, but the impact of it.
As I paused for a minute, I saw my surroundings; couples swayed side to side, the crowd clapped to the beat of the music, a grandmother held her grandchildren’s hands while walking, spryly bouncing as the kids skipped with the rhythm. It was as if the people brought out the best in the music being played.
It was as if the people brought out the best in the music being played.
With that dramatic ending, the audience rose to their feet, applauding the orchestra. A standing ovation befits such a performance, not as a celebration of musicians’ success, but as a thank you from the crowd.
Moments later, the courtyard that was booming with music for two hours, was left quiet like it usually is. But the audience was left with something lasting. By evoking nostalgic highlights from our collective past, the Richardson Symphony Orchestra had created a new memory—one that attendees would surely relive for years to come.