Comments about James Harmon
The audience is in place as the house lights dim.
The orchestra's din of jumbled noise, discordant confusion,
suddenly finds the perfect pitch of concert C, and there seems a breathless moment, suspended, waiting, waiting, waiting, for the down beat of the Conductor's baton.
Crimson shrieks into an audible blush hush as the magnificent oracle of the day sings his departing tribute and sinks reluctantly behind the set.
His shadow lengthens like an echo fading ever dim refusing to leave the mind's ear. The lingering of a beloved melody, gone but not forgotten as the chorus of ...