Orion Weiss


I have just arrived, loyal reader, in Reno, Nevada, a city not too far from Lake Tahoe, fairly far from New York, high up in the desert mountains, where one can gamble if one likes or play in a chamber music festival if one is invited to do so. My trip was brightened by vistas of snow covered cities and farms seen from spacious window seats, delicious Starbucks yogurt parfaits and luxurious airport handwashing aided by an arsenal of automatic dispensaries. Unfortunately it was also marred by long delays, Starbucks sandwiches, John Cassavetes' Husbands, temporarily lost baggage, and an unsettled feeling, a sort of vague premonition of doom that I think was brought on by the aforementioned sandwiches (or I could have written 'by those self-same sandwiches.' I thought about it, and now I think both are bad.). Also, at one point near the end, a couple of skiing surfer dudes started punching each other at baggage claim. As I was saying, I am arrived, and now I lie swaddled up under the covers of a Murphy bed(!?!) in what has to be the nicest non-smoking conference room suite of this giant hotel-casino. This room is easily bigger than our apartment in New York, though 90 percent of it is taken up by the 30-person conference room table, really. I could change rooms tomorrow, but I'm fairly certain I will opt to stay right here. I feel like this will be a good space for me to do some quality brainstorming, or networking, or even conferencing if it comes to that. Here I will perform a work by Turina (the 2nd piano trio) for the first time in my natural life. I have to say, I love the music! It's like Brahms, but sexier. I hope I will be able to 'Turina' good performance. I'm also playing the first piano quartets of Faure and Martinu, along with the only piano quartet of Schumann. Looming over me this week like an unspeakable dread while I try to enjoy some nice and new music making is the upcoming camping trip I signed myself and my brother and my friend Zahari up for.