Orbit Arts Festival
Tulsa Performing Arts Center
April 26, 2025
If your glory days involved baring your adolescent soul as Emily from Our Town in a high school auditorium, if your heart still thrills when you hear a fight song and your fingers play your imaginary clarinet and your feet want to march onto the football field at half time, if playing bassoon in your college orchestra was the the time you felt most authentically you—in other words, if you’re a former theatre kid or band nerd—Tulsa has a place for you.
I realized this on Saturday at the Orbit Arts Festival, the Tulsa Performing Arts Center’s annual one-day showcase of local talent, which featured more than 30 performances across the TPAC complex, all free to the public. Blake Rowden-Stripe, TPAC’s Director of Development and the head honcho of the festival, calls it a “creative explosion,” and that’s exactly what it delivered, from a flamenco group in the Williams Theatre and Native dancers in the 3rd Street lobby to an accordion band and a Karl Jones / Hot Toast puppet party.
Amid the flurry of activity throughout the day, I stopped to take in a few of the “onstage” performances. The first was Life Senior Services' “Broadway Senior” group’s abridged version of The Music Man, my absolute favorite musical. As an added bonus, my big sister, who moved to Tulsa a couple of years ago just after I did, played Marian the Librarian.
The sheer joy of seeing Mimi and Pawpaw out there, belting it out and sashaying around in their Broadway finery, dancing enthusiastically but cautiously enough not to pull something, entertained me like nothing else has lately. Special props to Marian, who still hits the high notes; Mrs. Paroo, with her superb Irish accent; Eulalie Mackechnie Shinn, with her comic timing; and Harold Hill, who mastered Robert Preston’s singy-talky style. The actors who portrayed the children and teenagers were appropriately twitchy and energetic, and the costumes and props were simple yet accurate (the Wells Fargo wagon was an actual kid’s wagon). The audience ate it up, clapping along with the rousing music, laughing at the funny parts, and standing to applaud while the cast took their bows.
Were there dropped lines and a few awkward pauses? Yes. Did someone lose control of a clarinet, which rolled under some chairs and had to be retrieved? Again, yes. Did anyone care? Absolutely not. These players covered for each other with the life experience that comes from decades of doing your job and helping your neighbor, and the little foibles only added to the joy of people getting to do something they’ve always loved, no matter the limitations. These seniors are living large.
Next, I saw the Tulsa Winds. For a band nerd like me, this brought back so many good memories. Those woody harmonies, the percussion-forward sound, the brass that threatens to overpower but never does—it all took me back to Graham, Texas, 1984, strapping on my xylophone and marching on Friday nights. I could feel my legs tighten in an effort to hold steady in the wind, listening for the drum major’s count off, hearing my friend Barbara blasting her tuba behind me. When the Tulsa Winds played the "Irish Washer Woman" suite and "Greensleeves" came in as a counter melody, I got chills—good ones. That particular timbre of winds/brass/percussion still reminds me of some of the best times of my life.
My final stop of the day was the Tulsa People’s Orchestra. I’ve heard them before, since my trombone-playing son is a member, and they’re always a great show. To kick off the concert, the conductor, Benjamin Ray, bounded onstage and the orchestra popped off with the ascending scale that every Okie knows: ”Oklahoma!” The excitement was palpable.
No question about it: y’all (we? If I’ve been here two years, am I an Okie, too?) have the best state song out there. It’s an actual Broadway number, a toe-tapping, fast-talking barn-burner. Most states seem to have some ditty from 1920 that won a song contest that nobody cared about, and they promptly stuck the score in a drawer and forgot about it. Not Oklahoma—we seized the moment. If I had my way, we’d sing “Oklahoma!” at ball games and assemblies, at concerts and movies, just for the pure fun of it.
The TPO has everything it takes to form a fine ensemble. Ray is charming and vibrant, leading the musicians with grace and care. Even though it is a community orchestra, you have to audition to get in, so the standards are high. This means the group can present ambitious classical or pop repertoire and successfully accompany soloists such as TPO’s Jeremy Wright or guest vocalist Margaret Stall, whose “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” may have been the highlight of my day. Their music is daring and invigorating, with an energy you don’t always feel at professional orchestra concerts.
When I moved to Tulsa, I knew it had a lively arts and music scene, but I didn’t anticipate such an inclusive music culture. We have a great symphony, a fabulous chamber music scene, jazz and rock and country and folk, tons of local talent and plenty of big names coming through town—but it’s a welcoming city for amateurs, too. Not only can you hear any genre you want; you, as an amateur, can participate.
If you want to dust off your old French horn and see if you’ve still got the chops, or if you want to move your feet, or get back on stage, go do it. You might just end up at the TPAC.
