Philip Glass

Well, it’s official. One of the past half-century’s most iconic musicians has reached his golden years. The now seventy-five-year-old Oscar-laureate and minimalist figurehead Philip Glass celebrated his birthday last week at SoHo’s posh and famously versatile club, (le) poisson rouge.

While the party didn’t quite descend into Jersey Shore debauchery, it was a far cry from the stuffy, self-parodic pretension one might assume would characterize a get together of the New York art world’s head mucky-mucks. With such high profile guests as Tom Waits, Martin Scorcese, Lou Reed, and Paul Simon, one would have expected the gathering to be something more in line with an industry event than a b-day bash in honor of “dear Philip.” Nevertheless, that’s precisely what it was: a lazy Sunday evening chock full of celebratory festivities for the birthday of a man many—celebrity and non-celebrity—count as a true friend.

Although the atmosphere was more chummy than professional, that didn’t keep those just randomly lucky enough to snag a seat from feeling like they were in some kind of “Midnight in Paris”-like dream. For the Philip Glass uber-fan, the night’s performances were a phantasmagoria of tributes to past and present P.G. collaborations by the likes of Tim Fain and Foday Musa Suso and Kronos Quartet, musicians who even in their own right are absolutely stunning.

In this way, the night read like a retrospective. Covers of various scores Glass had composed over his fifty-plus year career punctuated the original sets of many of the night’s performers. Such pieces—which included “The Poet Acts” and “Morning Passages,” both of “The Hours” fame, as well as his 2010 piece “Pendulum”—recalled the profundity and fecundity of the Philip Glass oeuvre. Some were near tears, held at bay only because Glass isn’t finished yet. His party was held on Sunday rather than Tuesday­—his actual birth date­—as he would be spending the day at Carnegie Hall for the American premiere of his Ninth Symphony.

Towards end of the night, Glass gave an intimate, heartfelt speech, in which he articulated his seemingly genuine appreciation for the turnout. Those actually associated with the Glass family smiled and nodded their heads, while those not, stared on in amazement, slightly shocked that Glass—the Philip Glass—would be thanking them for coming to his party so personally.

Overall, Glass’s 75th was a nice little party for a very talented individual who also happened to have a number of very talented friends. Despite the attempt at normalcy, those outside the inner circle couldn’t help but pick up on subtle extravagances: Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen sitting not 40 feet from everyone, a lamentably short set by neo-surf classics Raybeats, and a phenomenon of a cake executed by TLC’s Buddy “Cake Boss” Valastro. These and similar factors resulted in the culmination of nothing less than a surreal experience for the infiltrating nobodies, but seemed, to the accustomed, only the most basic ingredients for nothing more than very lovely time–and a very lovely time it was.