I was lucky enough to grab a few comp tickets to the Oct. 21 performance of Ben Folds with the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. Technically, it was my 18th wedding anniversary weekend and I was looking for an excuse to take my wife out on the town, but secretly it was because I’ve always been a fan of Ben Folds. Don’t tell my wife.

Way back in 1997, hearing Ben Folds Five on the radio for the first time was an ear-opening experience for me. “Brick” never really stoked my coals, so to say, but “Army” hit me right in the gut. It was poignant, angry and soulful. Still, I couldn’t quite place its genre. It felt like rock, but there was all this piano, and horns everywhere. Folds sang like an indie-rocker, but there was something too subdued and melodic for alt rock. I couldn’t place it, and that was rare.

Twenty-something years later, I haven’t exactly kept up with the Ben Folds repertoire. I’ve been busy teaching high school English and getting out of touch with what the cool kids nowadays call hip-hop. When I saw that Folds was going to be playing with the DSO I was like, “Hey, that’d be cool. I wonder if he’s still any good?”

I have this pretty low-bar litmus test for determining if a musician is any good. It’s quite simple and 99% accurate. Do they tap their feet when they play?

That’s it. That’s the test.

As a young musician in my formative years, I had to tap. It wasn’t so much for keeping rhythm, but more of music flowing through my body and exiting via the soles of my shoes. Maybe that’s why so much great music is about shoes. From the very first ivory-keyed note of the concert, I knew Folds was a great musician. The feet were a’tappin.

It’s said that the greats, for whatever that title is worth, don’t put music into their instruments, they pull it out of the instrument, like it’s been waiting dormantly, patiently, for someone to casually walk up to it and be like, “You can come out now. It’s safe.” Folds and the musicians who shared the stage with him pulled beauty out of those instruments.

Music, at least good music, can be seen as well as heard. Watching Folds take control of the piano, symphony and audience was like watching a great teacher lead a class. I didn’t know what to expect at the beginning of that night, but I left a little happier, a little wiser, a little better. I think everyone in the crowd did.

My father always said that when listening to classical music you should be able to see a cartoon, a show, in your mind. Listening to the symphony made me feel like maybe this whole thing was just some soundtrack to an awesome cartoon. Folds’ physical animation, the style with which he plays, his jokes — all cartoonish, and I mean that in a wholly admiring way. The only thing lacking was Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck popping out of the piano.

I liked his verbal asides almost as much as I did his vast library of songs. One thing he said that night really made me perk up and listen: Symphonies, like the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, are true signs of great civilization. And he made it clear that he didn’t mean it in a way like, “We’re better than you because we go to the symphony” but in a “Look at all these people working together to make something great” kind of way.

It struck me as wonderful and true. From the audience, to the stage crew, to the musicians, to the board of directors, and everyone else in between, it takes a lot of work to support a huge, giant, awesome symphony. Dallas is lucky, nay privileged, to have access to such a wonderfully unnecessary thing. I know most Dallasites would brag about the Cowboys, or the Rangers, or the Stars, or the Mavericks, but our Dallas Symphony Orchestra is world class. You don’t have to be rich or highly educated to appreciate it. Go to the symphony. Your life will be better for it. I promise.

Dakota Moncrief is a high school teacher and opinion writer. He wrote this column exclusively for The Dallas Morning News.

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