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I probably told this story before a couple of years ago but...when I was 14, I attended my first opera, "The Marriage of Figaro" by Mozart. I'd never seen or heard anything like it before. I remember feeling with each number that it couldn't possibly get more wonderful, but it did. Delight after delight came, one after the other. By the time the final act came, and Count Almaviva, caught in the web of his own intrigues and attempted infidelity, begs his wife for forgiveness and is wholeheartedly forgiven (one of my favoute magical Mozart moments to this day), I was in tears. It was a great performance, and received many curtain calls...I wept through them all, and all the way home in the car. My family thought I was insane...all but my mother, who understood.
I was never the same as a musician, composer or person again. It didn't change the path I was on as a composer, but rather galvanised it.
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