Dreams of the Cherry Blossoms

“Novosti Nedeli” 11.10-17.10 / 2007 / Stella Golub

  Ramat Hasharon, Netzah Street (translated into English, it means “eternity.” Isn't it marvelous? - “We live on Eternity Street” ...)

It is dark outside the window. Street lights. Sharp rays glide on unbelievably clean windows. In the beautiful hall - paintings (drawings on silk, and the frames are as good as the drawings themselves), autumn leaf color carpet. Music plays. Xylophone sprinkles its sparkling sounds. The piano splashes soft silk, like a wide dress in the autumn wind. Chords are like the steps of fairies and storytellers. Like white swans floating on the mirror of a pond. What a wonderful thing this is - a concert, what a bright light it is - music. My heart contracted, my head ached - then came the music, and I could start a new circle with ease. It seems there are no tricks - no movies, no scenery, no Bengal lights, but you see live pictures, as if using a magic lantern.

Here is a swing bench flying in the green world, here is Carmen dancing in gray ascetic rocks, where she led with her the poor, silly, love-stricken Jose.

  Musician Irina Graiver touches the xylophone's wooden track with sticks - and finds a sound. Light and transparent, like a snow pattern on glass. Dreamlike, like a scarlet flower in the middle of a bonfire. Warm and cool at the same time. Childish and devilishly sophisticated.

  The elderly and honorable inhabitants of this house filled the hall. They listen very carefully. Someone told us that this type of people - all of them had remarkable careers in the past - are impatient and impulsive. This instant you don’t even know if it’s true: they are obedient and infinitely grateful, generous with their applause.

  Irina shows different sticks, calmly demonstrates sound possibilities. It is like she’s slicing leaves of her fairy tree for a sample. And it sings, obedient to her hands. Listeners sit almost motionless; it is even strange to watch all these very different people being so silent and spellbound, following Irina along the lines of her musical wings. Along her story, along her road. The Saint-Saens' Swan swims as tenderly and proudly as the ballerinas dance in their pointe shoes, and the heroes of “The Marriage of Figaro” are as naively adventurous as in Beaumarchais texts. Xylophone shows its flexibility and imagination, and passion, and colorful sophistication. This young instrument easily flies from one century to another: the divine theme from “Orpheus” by Christoph Willibald Gluck is filled with grandeur and otherworldly mysticism, “Romance” from “The Blizzard” is illuminated by an exquisite Pushkin’s lantern, turbulent and young.

  And in the Kabalevsky’s notes, clowns shake the instrument, run, frolic - but along the way they say something very important.

  Irina Graiver takes the microphone and narrates. Very briefly, very calmly. - That "xylo" means a tree, and "phone" is a sound. The wise Greeks combined it, bonded it, and then the name of the instrument have got remembered, attached to it and became understandable to the whole world.

  Irina Graiver - scout, pioneer, researcher of the xylophone. Today she is the only woman who plays solo xylophone in our country. Someone from the audience asks her: “Do you know Chen Zimbalista?” (Chen Zimbalista is an outstanding musician performing on percussion instruments. – S. G.) Irina replies: “Of course” The listener picks up: “He is very talented. But you are better ...” And again, and again compliments sound.

  Hall applauds. "Bravo!"

The concert is over. Questions pour in from all sides:

- Where do you play? In the orchestra? Where do you teach? Who knew that we have such talent?! Have the newspapers already written about you? Have you been a musician in Russia too? Or is it from here, acquired here? Where can I attend such a concert again?

  Irina smiles:

- We have a few more programs ... Call me - we will come.

  Xylophone goes in a black case. We put the bags in the trunk. Irina gets behind the wheel. The car floats on a dark empty street - on the street of Eternity. A huge multi-stage house with large windows, like a ship, is drowning in a black star cloak.

- Irina, how did it all start - concerts, your trips in this car, with notes, with an instrument?

- I lived and studied in Tashkent, graduated from the conservatory in the class of percussion. Then I worked in an orchestra. Then - due to various kinds of reasons - I moved to Yaroslavl. I had no apartment and no money for a good instrument, too.

- And now - excuse me for interrupting – do you have enough money?

- It's complicated. But now I have such an instrument that I could not even dream of before. Our family came to Israel in 1996. I worked a lot at different jobs, studied, and after completing the course at Bar-Ilan University I got the teaching certificate. So, I teach. Music for children who come to us as part of the project for extended day groups.

- You play your concerts with such love, with such responsibility ...

- Yes, I am grateful to Israel for this - before, in other life, I did not play solo, but this was my biggest dream. Now I have my own concerts, my own audience. People talk about these concerts with each other, and they invite me again and again.

  I recall how Irina played the Japanese Keiko Abe's “Dream of the  Cherry Blossoms” play at a concert. Turmoil ran through fragrant tree  branches, the light found a blossom - we seemed to hear translucent, tender flowers crumble. The breath of the garden entered the hall, and the unfamiliar beauty of the distant melody carried away and captivated ...

  Musicians’ dreams - like these flowers. Beautiful - and fragile. There are no guarantees. Music is like a cloud, like a handful of snow. Like a fading cherry color.

  Xylophone sang his last sounds - and fell silent. And we were left with a dream. Magnificent dream belonging to all of us.