Adagio

[cosmolinguist]

Just as I was thinking of forgoing it in favor of something a little more energetic, in hopes that I might get the laundry hung up or French toast made, Radio 3 treated me to a familiar chord swelling from inaudibility and carrying me along with it into the next notes just as I expected them. I was already excited. I knew this tune.

I listened to it a million times on repeat, when I was studying. Still it reminds me of Blakely Hall, greenflower's and my Christmas-light-festooned room, at the last point in my life at which I was a good student.

I've always been a sucker for strings, though. Ever since a preschool version of me saw some cello players for a few seconds on TV, I've been intrigued. I can play woodwinds (except flute) and fake my way through most brass and percussion, but the strings remain utterly foreign to me, and as intriguing as they were when I was little. I still want to learn to play the cello. Or any of them really; leave it to me to choose the most inconveniently-sized one. But then I think they'll invent anti-gravity jet packs before I get around to owning a cello.

In the meantime, there's Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings. I turned the volume up, hoping to alienate the neighbors who are teaching their pet elephant to do jumping jacks, but really knowing I wouldn't because there's nothing harsh about Adagio (the very word is Italian for "at ease"). Besides, its ubiquity would probably just convince any overhearers that I was watching the dramatic bit of a movie or something. (The piece can be heard in films such as Platoon, The Elephant Man, El Norte, Amélie, Lorenzo's Oil and Reconstruction. Only one of which I actually own. But never mind.) But no, this was a single-sense event.

I can find it so difficult to listen to familiar music with fresh ears. But this time I didn't even have to try; from that first chord I was hooked. It takes me by the hand and strolls along, pointing out the first violins, the violas down a fifth, the haunting harmonies, everything playing in its highest register for the fff climax, or, in less technical language, the part that left me literally breathless because I had forgotten to breathe for a while.

Then I heard that this was the famous 1938 premiere of the work, with Arturo Toscanini conducting. No wonder it was so lovely: this time, everybody was hearing it with fresh ears.

(Should you want to, you can hear, or hear about, this performance here.)

Comments

[rainmerlot.livejournal.com]

I so wish I felt that passionate about something, even just a 5 minute song, that everything else is forgotten. I am envious.

[cosmolinguist]

Try this song, it's amazing. :)

I know exactly what you mean, though. The past few years have sucked the life out of me; it's only starting to come back in the last few months.

[patrick-vecchio.livejournal.com]

I've been dipping my toes back into the classical music waters lately and will have to check out this work.

I've been listening to Beethoven's Ninth on and off for 15, 20 years, and I just recently obtained a performance of it conducted by Toscanini. My ear is much, much more attuned to Jimi than to Ludwig, but even my tin ear could detect differences attributable to the maestro. The best way I can put it is that the music is more there, if that makes any sense at all.

[cosmolinguist]

It does make sense, and it sounds wonderful. It seems not unlike my experience with this piece: I know it as well as I know any tune, but still found this performance arresting, compelling, when I was least expecting it (partly precisely because I know it so well).

I cannot recommend it highly enough; I'm interested to know what you'll think of the Adagio if you do listen to it.