By Rob van Alstyne
By Zach McCormick
By Emily Eveland
By Jack Spencer
By Michael Madden
By Reed Fischer
By Emily Weiss
By Emily Weiss
"I hope that hearing this will feel as good as making love to you," the middle-aged woman sitting behind me said to her husband. I don't know what he's capable of, but it seemed like a tall order for the Minnesota Orchestra to fill as they performed the music of Led Zeppelin at Target Center on Saturday night.
The curly white bouffants that are the trademark of the typical Orchestra Hall patron were absent; the night belonged to ponytailed new-agers, Chanel-clad chicas, burnt-out rockers, and sk8er bois with dad in tow. But the Orchestra, bathed in red and purple light, still received countless standing ovations and a whole lotta love.
The technical and artistic elements of the show begged for improvement—the sound was muddy, and during some songs, the howling of the mediocre rock band drowned out the orchestra. But that hardly mattered to the tie-dyed and beer-slogan T-shirt-wearing fans. They shouted requests, swayed in time, and sang along, cheering with equal enthusiasm after guitar licks and oboe solos.
As the evening neared its close, Randy Jackson (the show's wild-locked, would-be Robert Plant) exited the stage. The crowd roared for an encore. Cellists turned their pages. French horn players pursed their lips. Jackson re-entered. Then came the opening chords of "Stairway to Heaven." The crowd went crazy. And for a split second, maybe, it felt a little like making love.