I claim no expertise when it comes to classical music, but I know what I like. The Chicago Tribune critic, Howard Reich, didn’t like the Grant Park Symphony’s rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony the night before, but I very much enjoyed the piece.

On the other hand, Reich raved about William Bolcom’s Symphony No. 4. I guess I can’t disagree, because I didn’t stay to hear it after the intermission, originally because I saw the scariest hyphenated word in the English language as part of the piece’s description, that is mezzo-soprano.

I don’t do mezzo-soprano. I’d rather hear the Archies do Sugar, Sugar. Given that a mezzo-soprano would be singing, I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand the lyrics as sung, which, upon reading them in the program, would’ve been a saving grace.

My pre-concert decision to leave at intermission was reinforced by two couples I overheard while riding the bus to the concert. One couple had been to the same performance the night before and said they were coming back only for the Tchaikovsky, as they hadn’t liked the Bolcom. Take that Howard.

Bolcom is a Pulitzer Prize winner, among many other accolades. I don’t care. I didn’t like his piece, Remembered Fathers, when I heard it performed on June 26 at the Rush Hour concert.

And, though I hadn’t remembered at first, it turns out that Bolcom also composed the opera A Wedding, based on the 1978 Robert Altman movie, which was the first and, I hope, last opera I’ve ever attended. I had an amazing seat, in the 12th row, just across the aisle from Altman himself, who may or may not have dozed off once or twice during the performance. I unfortunately, stayed awake the whole time.