He'd heard Evelyn Glennie play before, many times, with both the National Symphony and the Boston Pops; the percussionist had always impressed him with her dexterity and stamina. But this was different; though he could feel the vibrations in the floor and sometimes through the arms of his seat, whole sections were missing. String instruments, the major part of any orchestra, simply didn't produce enough sound waves to make the floor vibrate. He could see the bows moving, knew the music enough that he knew what should be there, but it wasn't. And some of the percussive instruments Evelyn played were similar; the xylophone she was putting through its paces on "Maple Leaf Rag" at the moment, for example.
And yet he was experiencing parts of the music he'd taken for granted; because he couldn't hear the flutes, the subtle rumble of the timpani rose to the surface. Most of the woodwinds were muted, and the strings all but obliterated completely, but he could feel the underlying power of the lower brass instruments. It was as if he were "hearing" each piece for the first time.
Sue had apparently turned to watch his expression, because she tapped his arm at the end of the piece and signed YOU O-KQQ. Because her face and hands were lit by the glow of the stage lights, he could pick up the signs fairly easily.
YES, he replied after a moment, then grabbed the notepad. It's like a new piece. You were right about different parts of it being "sensed" differently.
YOU NOT SAD YOU… She opted to write the rest. Missing it?
He blinked; he hadn't even thought of it that way. Not at all. I don't feel I'm missing out on anything. I never noticed how the movement of the instruments, the conductor, all lend itself to the "flavor" of the song. I've always concentrated on just the music, the sound, itself. And even then I never caught the subtleties all the time. This is a wonderful experience.
"Excuse me." A man seated next to them leaned over into their sight lines. "It would be much easier to enjoy the music if I didn't have to listen to the continual rustling of paper in the process, or be distracted by that fool light blinking on and off. Could you two continue your conversation after the concert, please?"
He might not have understood what the man was saying, but he caught the mood full-face. "Sorry." Myles was tempted to say more, until he realized that in another time and place, he might have reacted the same way. He tapped Sue's arm and fingerspelled W-E T-A-L-K M-O-R-E L-A-T-E-R. O-KQQ
She smiled; she'd been expecting him to bristle. He could almost hear her voice in his mind: Pick your battles; you learned that fast. Her hands moved again, all grace. YOU MUCH EXCITED ME SEE YOU WANT TALK MUCH. WE TALK LATER O-K.