Notes on a recent visit to the Berlin Philharmonic from a Hellgate Harmonie member:

The Berlin Philharmonic is a remarkably young orchestra. Before a concert early in May, many members arrived on bicycles, their instruments strapped to their backs. They wheeled up to the back entrance, quickly chained their bikes and walked in briskly. (Biking is pretty coming in Berlin, where the sidewalks often double as two-wheel thoroughfares.) The concert included works by Messiaen ("L'Ascension"), Wolfgang Rihm ("Marsyas," a rhapsody for trumpet mit Schlagzeug -- that's percussion to you), George Benjamin ("Ringed by the Flat Horizon) and Ravel ("Rapsodie espagnole"). It was an excellent 20th century program. Benjamin conducted ably, with a self-taught cuing style. The orchestra members liked him. He was unorthodox, but very musical, and knew how to draw out a nice sound, some said.

It was a beautiful spring day -- finally a break in the weather in cold, gray Berlin. The concert was in the afternoon, a rarity, and the orchestra's dress seemed a bit haphazard. Most men wore dark three-piece suits. The strict code that details dress down to the socks in most big American orchestras did not apply. Also, the seating is pretty arbitrary for the strings. Whatever chair you take at the program's first rehearsal is where you sit for the concerts. A quick flight of steps at the Philharmonie, the Berlin Philharmonic's home, leads backstage to a cafeteria. Most of the musicians gather there before rehearsals, during breaks and at concert intermissions. The counter is well stocked: excellent espresso, pastries, sandwiches (that's "belegtes Broetchen"). Some players chatted on a balcony at the far end of the cafeteria during an intermission. Others milled about, or sat alone at tables eating a sandwich. The first violin section sat at a long table. It was a member's birthday. Traditionally, Germans treat their friends on their own birthdays, and the Berlin Philharmonikers do it by section, at intermissions. The sparkling wine was flowing. The soloists in the Rihm, orchestra members Gabor Tarkovi, trumpet, and Jan Schlichte, schlagzeug (love that word), sat a bit sheepishly, in black open-necked shirts and black slacks, accepting compliments and holding bouquets.

We chatted with Stanley Dodds, an Australian violinist, whose three children were running around. His wife Rowena, a cello teacher, was there too. Dodds, a compact man in his mid-30s, said Berlin has nearly a score of amateur orchestras, all highly organized. They charge for tickets and fill the hall with their friends. Some even make money. He said he conducts several of them from time to time to gain experience.

Sir Simon Rattle, the music director, was in the audience for the concert and came backstage to greet Benjamin. "Bravo, bravo," he repeated, assuring a somewhat insecure Benjamin that his performance was fine. Benjamin pressed him for more comments, but Rattle said he would wait until the run of concerts had finished.

The hall, by the way, is a marvel -- terraced balconies surrounded the stage, which sits at the bottom of an angular bowl. The acoustics are resonant yet clear. You could actually hear them -- the audience was amazingly free of hackers, throat-clearers, watch-beepers, hearing-aid whiners, and other noise makers.