Photo: Ryo Mitamura
MONTREAL — “He would have been 84-years-old this July,” Ryan Horowitz thought to himself, while letting the romantic melodies of Nils Frahm’s Mutek performance permeate his consciousness.
The 22-year-old slowly melted into the looping drones of Frahm’s pianos, closing his eyes for the majority of the performance.
“I think I am going to cry,” Horowitz quietly mumbled to himself, while recalling his deceased grandfather’s smile.
Raymond Horowitz, who passed away in 2003, worked at a steel factory for forty-three years to provide for his family and to give each of his children funds for a university education. He hoped their ambitions — as well as those of his grandchildren — would never be limited by anything but the size of their dreams.
“He was such a good guy,” silently eulogized Horowitz.
(Photo: Patricia Guillen)
As Frahm elegantly moved from piano to piano, the rising tempo and compounding notes evoked uplifting spirits in the audience.
Horowitz recalled the time his grandpa walked him to school for the first time, buying him candy on the way and instructing him not to tell his parents about it. He smiled as Frahm began a delicate run on the lowest octaves of the piano, slowly moving higher and higher on its register.
“I haven’t had a jawbreaker since I was a child,” Horowitz realized.
Frahm’s ascension hit its peak, and was then cushioned by a long, silent pause, followed by a series of minor chords that changed the dominant melodic theme of the piece from optimistic to melancholic.
“I really miss him,” thought Horowitz, as the first of six tears slowly rolled down his right cheek.
As the performance came to an end, Horowitz joined other audience members in awarding Frahm with a standing ovation; a gesture he thought his grandpa would have equally deserved.
