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cosmolinguistJust 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,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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.)
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.)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-27 08:29 am (UTC)I cannot recommend it highly enough; I'm interested to know what you'll think of the Adagio if you do listen to it.