Just listen to those violins. You can hear it in their voices: "We're the melody; we're the harmony. We matter. You don't. Nyeahhh!" They think they're so much more important than anything else in the orchestra. Whose idea was it to let such a whiny, egotistical, touchy, demanding, narcissistic and just plain irksome instrument have the main parts? They would have been insufferable even if there were just two of them. But to have two dozen of them -- two dozen! -- is madness. Pure madness.
Give me a cello any day. I have never met a cello who was anywhere near as high strung as your typical violin. Have you ever talked to a cello? I mean, really talked to one? There is depth there, my friend. Not like those shallow violins.
Remember the good old days? Back when "classical music" meant harpsichords? Well, alright, I admit neither do I. But it must have been glorious. I've always wanted to meet a harpsichord. I had been hoping that I might get to work with one this time around.
But no, what do I get instead? Violins. Violins, violins, violins. Throw them all out, say I! Replace them with woodwinds! Or brass! I'd even prefer a herd of pompous tubas (and truly, how can anyone be pompous when they're best known for playing "oom-pah-pah oom-pah-pah"? they're barely a step above accordions, and that's saying something) over these screeching banshees.
I have a dream, though. I dream that some day -- not necessarily right now, perhaps not even soon, but some day -- there will be a piece written for us. And it won't be the violins or the harpsichords or the tubas out there in front playing the main melody line. It'll be me.
I don't pretend it'll be easy! But I think, working together with my brothers and sisters, we might just be able to pull it off. And for now, we wait. We wait and dream and practice. We must be ready when the time comes for the "Concerto per il Triangolo".