A Magic Flute and a Friend Fill Up Carriage House Crowd

A Little Magic in a Jewelry Box

It was almost apricot, with just a tinge of tangerine trying to squeeze in last minute, but it was not to be for the sinking sun over the Carriage House at Gore Place. A grey blockade had other ideas, as shoulder to shoulder, hugger-mugger moody clouds kept color out. No pop of pink over the squared up structure, set like a fine thimble on these velvet green grounds. But magic still filled the early evening air…Because at the top of the hour a simple square would turn jewelry box. Lid lifted would show off silver flute, trinkets of Tango, clarity of notes and panes, twelve over twelve, setting polished, perfectly restored, post and beam, barn board walls with gems floating, fluted flares, precision cuts, rare percussion.

Flutist Bonnie Cochran and percussionist Julian Loida were back headlining Gore Place Carriage House Concerts for the second time.

The evening commenced, notes soared off elongated silver, such an instrument, a flute never ending. Notes arrived gentle and easing, quite meditative, allowing eye lids to soften and drink in the Joy, waited for, but not expected, the ease sweeping us up delivering the room to a happy surrender. The fluted tones vibrating through us exquisite, voluminous, more depth and volume than expected, still reflective, a gentle sway to curls and runs of flute sublime.

It felt familiar yet unexpected; somewhere you’ve been, but not like this. The art of letting go, just to Be Here Now.

Joined by Julian Loida on creative percussion, drums rarely heard due to reverse direction.. (think convex vs concave), and vibraphone set up long and toothy an experienced tap and touch.

It would prove a home brew with original work partnered by the same in video, there would be tango, vibraphone, famous drums. I heard Thick as a brick go by, chasing the great pumpkin, to a west side story... but thats just me...

In this special place, from 1793, fabulous doors wearing their best hardware, lanterns posed beside gravel lanes winding travelers past stunning trees, historical, one of a kind, cared for here, protected here.. older than your grandmother, the best treasure in Waltham. . beside paths with a pile of copper pennies were laying for some larger reason than it looked where you could swear you heard hoof beats approaching from the road….

This duo dared to stimulate and relax, set you to dreaming, with their armor dripping silver with what seemed a five foot flute that made a U turn, curious drums, beats from across the globe and bubbly both.
In a carriage house comfy, no stand in hearth, but if there was there would be a pot of cracking cranberries hanging from a hook, a steaming pot of wrap around peace, an occasional pop of tranquility, the snap of serenity.. waking us up, then smoothing us out.. a wake up call calming us down..on a slow river, delightful ride.. like christmas cranberries snapping sending sounds and smells around the room..

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