Outside the natural habitat

Every year, the Seattle Symphony does a concert featuring the music of independent local composers. The artists are there in the audience to come up on stage and discuss the piece before it's performed. I went into this one with my eyes wide open, knowing that "indie" probably means "modern," and "modern" virtually always means "weird," and "weird" directly translates as "immensely talented but painful to listen to."

The evening was rather hard to describe.
There was a black-and-white silent film about shipwrecks, vaguely-implied infidelity, and the dangers of sleeping on rocky beaches at high tide, which played on screen while a woman in a bright orange dress pounded the 5 lowest keys on a grand piano for 21 solid minutes.
One of the pieces featured cowbells.
And toward the end of a program, a local rapper performed the drum solo from a Phil Collins song, backed by a 60-piece orchestra full of musical prodigies wondering how their Juilliard training had culminated in something like this.

Before the show started, I was trying to snap a picture of the stage...

...because it featured a wall of gongs.  I repeat: An entire wall of gongs.

It's there, partially hiding behind the piano and the harp.
Ready to pounce at any moment.

It was only when I looked at the picture later that I realized it had so many other little gems in it.

Rarely observed in the symphonic wild, behold the blue jeaned - canvas Toms footed - pink mohawked - Hipster sapien:

This appears to be a breeding pair.

And finally, trying desperately to maintain their acoustically-balanced territory on the velvet-upholstered slopes, the clearly-intimidated old couple.

Their stares are unmistakable.
Her hand is delicately raised to her mouth,
stifling a gasp of horror.
His arm is protectively wrapped around her,
ready to defend from the fuscia mohawk onslaught.

Thanks for keeping it reliably interesting, Seattle. I really mean that.
The real question may be which of these symphony couples delights or distresses you more?