During young adulthood, I avoided orchestral music. The in-thing of the era leaned more toward rock, folk, blues. Orchestra was a sound from my parents' generation. But as I've grown older, I've come to embrace the music of their era as much as my own. Coming upon the upbeat sound of the intro to the long-running Johnny Carson show, for example, creates a happy nostalgia, a kind of bridge between the Rat Pack years of my folks and the last decades of the twentieth century. The Big Band sounds of Benny Goodman are a joy. The orchestral introductions to the musicals like Guys and Dolls, or Camelot, or Fiddler on the Roof can bring tears to my eyes. 

Orchestras are rather fascinating. There are so many instruments, so many musicians, each with a unique noise, that collaborate to create a complex work of sound. Oboes, violas, French horns, cymbals, triangles, saxophones, xylophones, cellos, piccolos, tubas and so on. The music performed comes from a wide selection of styles - classical, jazz, operatic, musicals, et cetera. Sometimes the sounds wander rather aimlessly, like when band members are warming up. It can be awkward or humorous - it's sort of like being in the wild with frogs croaking and woodpeckers knocking on wood and meadowlarks warbling melodies, and waterfalls crashing, wolves wailing. A harmony of not-randomness. I always enjoy the sounds of the instruments warming up in the same way. Some compositions are deliberately structured in such an organic, natural manner.

The product of an orchestra can be tame and very controlled. Or like in big band, it can cut loose. Some performances give voice to more than the composer, more than the musicians, more than the instruments and audience. The performance reaches deep and far, like an intricate formula has been uncovered, or a key has been turned to release an epiphany.