Sounds Like KPAC Students Shine In Competition

An orchestra wakes me up every morning, slowly fading into my ears, urging me to open my eyes and welcome a new day. Instruments include a blaring alarm, constantly hitting the same note, as if unsure if it’s the right one. A buzzing toothbrush delivers a mellow hum throughout my skull, the bass of all the noise.  The birds by the bathroom window and my brother sing, trying to find their perfect pitch, their voices bouncing off the shower walls and into the rest of the house. Downstairs there’s the gyrations of the blender, the sizzling of eggs, and the occasional pop from the toaster followed by the timid shriek of someone who should be accustomed to it by now. There is no organization to it, but it has it’s own syncopated rhythm and inexplicable harmony, never missing a beat. At eight o’clock, I leave the chaotic warm-up and enjoy a brief moment of silence and peace in my little red car. The alarm beeps, the engine’s purr greets me, and the real symphony begins. I flick on the radio and discover where I’ll be traveling today, leaving my world and entering someone else’s. Depending on the soundtrack, I can pretend I’m a young Czarina headed to the premiere of Tchaikovsky's latest work, a princess dancing for the first time with her future prince in an elegant ball gown in a candlelit castle, or a powerful music critic in Los Angeles on my way to watch Gustavo Dudamel conduct the LA Philharmonic. It’s always a surprise, yet it’s always fitting. The right music can set the tone of my entire day. Of course, there are places I prefer to go on my morning commute. I like high-energy, bombastic symphonies that turn the cedar trees into skyscrapers and the traffic lights into marquees. I’m in 1950’s New York, traversing through the music of its Upper West Side. No more a high school student headed to pre-calculus, but a city slicker cruising to the basketball court to join the Sharks and Jets, look for a fight, maybe find myself a Tony, go to a dance, fall in love, and… well, let’s leave it at that. Finger snaps and bassoons guide me down the road, making me feel slick and cool, sliding down the street. Excited trumpets and slinky xylophones pump me up, make me drive a little faster, a little riskier, until the person behind me honks and temporarily removes me from my trance. The music slows as I go up hill, and speeds as I roll back down, not touching the brake, letting gravity and allegros take over. The symphony builds to a forte as I speed towards a traffic light. It turns green as I get closer and the music continues rising. I think I can make it, the drums urge me forward, making me push the gas pedal down, going faster and faster, as the light fades to yellow and the intersection is so close. Tension grows, a fortissimo is brewing. Whistles go off just as I pass the crossroads the moment the light turns red. Sounds explode from the car radio and I heave a breath of excitement and relief. The horns slowly begin to fade, a swanky sound leading me to the school's entrance, leading me back to reality, until the drive back home.