It’s not classical music — it’s disreputable classical music.
We know what the rules are. We just like breaking them. We’re here to create art, and our one purpose is to move people, to change their lives a little bit in the way only art can, and we don’t let propriety get in the way of that. We shrug at labels. We throw aside convention for convention’s sake and relentlessly pursue the music that makes us shout, grin, laugh or cry. Everything else is just details.
We love instrumental music. And too often, instrumental music is a beautiful and talented lady confined to a luxurious but dreary castle. Our mission is to storm that castle and rescue that lady, placing her beside us on a valiant steed and riding off to conquer someplace a lot more aggressive — say, the sweaty heart of Mexico City or the gritty streets of the Lower East Side. Her dress will probably get dirty, her hair might get messed up, she will whoop and cheer in decidedly unladylike fashion, and she will have the time of her life.
In the end, we love music, and we play it like someone’s going to take it away from us when the show is over.