Schostakowitsch: 14. Sinfonie ∙ hr-Sinfonieorchester ∙ Värelä ∙ Kares ∙ Klaus Mäkelä
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- Опубликовано: 9 июл 2024
- Dmitrij Schostakowitsch:
14. Sinfonie op. 135 ∙
für Sopran, Bass und Kammerorchester
auf Gedichte von Federico García Lorca, Guillaume Apollinaire,
Wilhelm Küchelbecker und Rainer Maria Rilke ∙
(Auftritt) 00:00 ∙
1. De profundis (Bass) 00:44 ∙
2. Malagueña (Sopran) 05:50 ∙
3. Loreley (Sopran und Bass) 08:52 ∙
4. Der Selbstmörder (Sopran) 17:50 ∙
5. Auf Wacht (Sopran) 24:54 ∙
6. Sehen Sie, Madame! (Sopran und Bass) 27:46 ∙
7. Im Kerker der Santé (Bass) 29:39 ∙
8. Antwort der Zaporoger Kosaken an den Sultan von Konstantinopel (Bass) 40:07 ∙
9. O Delvig, Delvig! (Bass) 42:06 ∙
10. Der Tod des Dichters (Sopran) 46:48 ∙
11. Schlußstück (Sopran und Bass) 52:23 ∙
hr-Sinfonieorchester - Frankfurt Radio Symphony ∙
Miina-Liisa Värelä, Sopran ∙
Mika Kares, Bass ∙
Klaus Mäkelä, Dirigent ∙
hr-Sinfoniekonzert ∙
hr-Sendesaal Frankfurt, 1. Oktober 2020
Website: www.hr-sinfonieorchester.de ∙
Facebook: / hrsinfonieorchester 
Видеоклипы
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Once again, the Shostakovich reincarnate conducts another masterpiece.
A revelation of a symphony that I have (almost) always found inaccessible. Beyond praise in many ways: the soloists, especially the phenomenal bass; the orchestra, which plays with the intensity of chamber musicians; the recorded sound, which is grippingly vivid and full; and of course the young conductor, who continues to amaze.
Shostakovich being Shostakovich: bitter, acrid, sarcastic, ominous, sinister and dark as hell. I love so much this ouvre!
mourn
I strongly believe he was trying to kill Stalin in his music.
@@megabugginout you, or some propagandist?
@@megabugginout Stalin was long dead by the time he composed this......
Broke my heart. My God, what is it?
This piece deserves more recognition
Agree!!!
Magical mysterious Shostakovich. Thank you soloists, Frankfurt musicians and Mäkelä for this memorable performance!
If I understand anything about this work it's the exquisite expressiveness of the strings. It commands my attention to the end.
My first hearing of this Symphony ,. seems so dark, reflective of the times!
0:44 - I. Adagio. "De profundis" (Federico García Lorca)
5:50 - II. Allegretto. "Malagueña" (Federico García Lorca)
8:52 - III. Allegro molto. "Loreley" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
17:50 - IV. Adagio. "Le Suicidé" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
24:54 - V. Allegretto. "Les Attentives I" (On watch) (Guillaume Apollinaire)
27:46 - VI. Adagio. "Les Attentives II" (Madam, look!) (Guillaume Apollinaire)
29:39 - VII. Adagio. "À la Santé" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
40:07 - VIII. Allegro. "Réponse des Cosaques Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
42:06 - IX. Andante. "O, Del'vig, Del'vig!" (Wilhelm Küchelbecker)
46:48 - X. Largo. "Der Tod des Dichters" (Rainer Maria Rilke)
52:23 - XI. Moderato. "Schlußstück" (Rainer Maria Rilke)
That bass has a huuuuge voice, wow.
This work by Shostakovich is very appropiate for these times. Thanks for the upload!
yes and now for these times - 2022
7:45 unbelievably good solo from the very talented concertmaster Florin Iliescu! My favorite Violinist
Amazing!
An aunt of mine was married to Kares but I do not know if they are related, They lived in Karelia before the war
This performance is beyond belief. So much energy!
Agree
I thought Mika Kares's rich bass voice was outstanding. Many thanks for posting this electrifying performance.
Probably one of the very best performances of this symphony. Outstanding soloist and an unforgettable orchestra. Chapeau!
It sure is a masterpiece!
I so agree. This performance is absolutely masterful. One acutely feels the utter despair and outrage Shostakovich felt toward all he had experienced and witnessed at the hands of Stalin.
Brilliant Symphony No. 14 by the Genius Shostakovich! Super orchestra and of course the very talented conductor Klaus Makes! The Bass and Soprano were excellent and by their names I reckon they are from Finland!
Superb! The Finnish must be proud of their gem.
man alive what a piece and a performance - just watched this twice.
Originell, präzise, selten kraftvoll bei wenig Selbstgefälligkeit- - Europa, was wärst Du ohne russische Kultur/ Komponisten? Bravo ans Ensemble
Brilliant performance! This symphony is so rarely performed.
I'm a great Shostakovich fan, love the majority of his symphonies but there are a few that don't do it for me and this is one of them - maybe many others think the same?
@@TheVaughan5 I'm in the opposite side, I'm not a big fan of Shostakovich, but there are a few symphonies from him that I really love them, the 14th is one of this.
@@TheVaughan5 Maybe? True the Shostakovich symphonies are a bite uneven. I think you hvae to take into Shostakovich having a early period, a middle period, and a deflective period. The late symphonies are coupled with great poets of the period. Don't forget, Shostakovich, lived through WWII, and post war Stalinism., He witneesed man's inhumanity to man. Hence, this piece being full of rage. The poems attached to this symphony, (De Lora) are brilliant. The Babi-Yar Another story. Remember, StaliIn The music critic always peared over your shoulder. Thus in the case of the last three symphonies, the outrage and needless wars come right through here.
I personally enjoy this symphony a lot. He writes in a raw and unrestricted style that you usually only find in his chamber music.
Appropiate music for those weird times...
Chef d'oeuvre du géant que fut Chostakovitch, magnifiquement interprété
Les poèmes sont de Garcia Lorca, Apollinaire (dont La Loreley), Küchelbecker et Rilke
i like this.
Beautiful... I love this Music..
I always always struggled with his 14th. But it’s beginning to grow on me.
Same
Absolute Perfection!
English translations of the libretto
De Profundis (Lorca)
Those one hundred lovers
are sleeping for ever
beneath the dry earth.
Andalusia has
long red roads.
Cordoba, green olive trees
where a hundred crosses
can be raised
in their memory.
Those one hundred lovers
are sleeping for ever.
Malagueña (Lorca)
Death walks in and out of the tavern.
Death walks in and out of the tavern.
Black horses and sinister people
wander the deep paths of the guitar.
And there’s a smell of salt and women’s blood
on the febrile spikenards along the coast.
Death walks in and out,
out of and into the tavern walks death.
Lorelei (Apollinaire)
There was in Bacharach a sorceress fair,
who let every man around die of love.
The bishop had her summoned to his tribunal
but absolved her in advance on account of her beauty.
O fair Lorelei, with your eyes full of gemstones,
from which magician did you get your sorcery?
I’m weary of living and my eyes are damned;
all men have perished, my lord, on meeting my gaze.
My eyes are flames and not gemstones,
throw, oh throw this sorcery into the flames.
I am ablaze in those flames, o fair Lorelei;
let another condemn you, for I am bewitched by you.
You laugh, my lord, when you should be praying to the Virgin for me,
so let me die, and may God protect you.
My lover has left for a far-off land,
so let me die, since there is nothing I love.
My heart aches so that I must die,
were I to look into my own eyes I should have to die.
My heart has ached so since he left,
my heart began to ache so the day he went away.
The bishop summoned three knights armed with lances:
Take this poor demented woman off to the convent.
Go now, deluded Lore, go, Lore with your trembling gaze,
you will be a nun, dressed all in black and white.
Then all four set off along the highway.
Lorelei begged them, her eyes shining like stars,
Good knights, allow me to climb up to that cliff so high,
to look one last time upon my fine castle,
to see one last time my reflection in the river,
then I shall go to the convent of maidens and widows.
There on high the wind twisted her tumbling locks.
The knights cried out, Lorelei, Lorelei.
There far below a little boat is floating along the Rhine:
my lover is at the helm, he has seen me, he’s calling me.
My heart is filled with tenderness, ‘tis my lover who comes.
Then she leant over the edge and fell down into the Rhine.
For the fair Lorelei had seen in its waters
her Rhine-coloured eyes, her tresses golden as the sun.
The Suicide (Apollinaire)
Three tall lilies, three tall lilies on my grave with no cross.
Three tall lilies dusted with gold that the wind scatters in fright,
watered only when a dark sky showers them,
majestic and handsome like royal sceptres.
One is growing from my wound, and when daylight catches it,
bloodied, it reaches upwards: this is the lily of fear.
Three tall lilies, three tall lilies on my grave with no cross.
Three tall lilies dusted with gold that the wind scatters in fright.
Another grows from my heart as it lies aching in the earth
where the worms are eating it; the last is growing from my mouth.
On my grave set apart all three reach upwards,
all alone, all alone, and, I believe, as damned as I am.
Three tall lilies, three tall lilies on my grave with no cross.
On Watch (Apollinaire)
The one who has to die tonight in the trenches
is a young soldier whose eye idly falls
throughout the day on the trophies that were hung
from the cement crenellations during the night.
The one who has to die tonight in the trenches
is a young soldier, my brother and my lover.
And since he has to die, I want to make myself beautiful.
I want to light the torches with my bare breasts,
I want to melt the frozen pool with my wide eyes,
and as for my hips, I want them to be gravestones.
For since he has to die, I want to make myself beautiful,
in incest and death, two such handsome gestures.
The cows at sunset are lowing all their roses,
the wing of the blue bird gently fans me.
It’s the hour of Love and its ardent neuroses,
it’s the hour of Death and the final promise.
The one who has to die just as roses die
is a young soldier, my brother and my lover.
Madam, Look! (Apollinaire)
Madam, listen to me a moment:
you’ve dropped something.
It’s my heart, nothing much.
Pick it up again then.
I gave it, I took it back again.
It was down there in the trenches.
It’s here, and I laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh,
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
It’s here, and I laugh and laugh
about the love affairs cut down by the scythe of death.
At the Santé Prison (Apollinaire)
Before going into my cell
I had to strip naked
and that sinister voice howled,
Guillaume, what’s become of you?
Farewell, farewell, songs and dances,
o my youth, o young girls.
Lazarus going into his tomb
instead of rising from it as he did.
No, here I no longer
feel I’m myself.
I’m number fifteen
in block eleven.
Every morning I pace
around a pit, like a bear.
We go round and round and round again.
The sky is blue like a chain.
Every morning I pace
around a pit, like a bear.
What will become of me, o God,
you who know my pain,
you who gave it to me?
Take pity on my dry eyes, my pallor...
And on all those poor hearts beating in prison.
Love, my companion,
take pity above all on my feeble wits
and this despair that’s overpowering them.
The day is dying, see how a lamp
is burning in the prison.
We are alone in my cell,
fair light, beloved reason.
Reply of the Zaparogue Cossacks to the Sultan of Constantinople (Apollinaire)
More criminal than Barabbas,
horned like fallen angels,
what Beelzebub are you there below,
nourished on mud and filth?
We shall not come to your sabbaths.
Putrid fish of Salonica,
long chain of nightmarish slumber,
eyes gouged out with the tip of a pike.
Your mother passed wind half-heartedly
and you were born from her colic.
Butcher of Podolia, lover
of wounds, of ulcers, of scabs,
pig’s snout, mare’s arse,
hold on tight to all your money
to pay for your medicines.
O, Delvig, Delvig! (Kuchelbecker)
O, Delvig, Delvig, what is the reward
for poems and noble deeds?
What comfort is there, and where, for talent that lives
among villains and fools?
In Juvenal’s harsh hand
the sound of a whip threatens the villains,
and drains blood away from their faces,
and the tyrants’ power diminishes.
O, Delvig, Delvig, what is persecution?
Bold inspired deeds
and sweet songs
are destined for immortality!
And so our union will not die,
liberated, joyous, and proud!
Equally strong in happiness and sorrow,
the union of those who are loved by the immortal muse!
The Death of the Poet (Rilke)
He was lying. His uptilted face
had been pale and unconsenting among the steep pillows
since the world and this knowing-about-it -
ripped away from his senses -
had reverted to the indifferent year.
Those who saw him living did not know
how very much he was one with all of this;
for this - these depths, these meadows
and these waters - were his visage and vision.
Oh, his visage and vision was this whole wide-open space,
which as yet still wants to go to him and woos him,
and his mask, now dying in trepidation,
is tender and open, like the inside
of a fruit going bad through contact with the air.
Conclusion (Rilke)
Death is great.
We are his
when our mouths are filled with laughter.
When we think we are in the midst of life,
he dares to weep
in our midst.
English translations of the
original French, Spanish and Russian texts by Susannah Howe (tracks 1-8);
Anastasia Belina-Johnson (track 9); Susan Baxter (tracks 10-11)
Thank you!
Magnificent!
Exzellente Aufführung dieser düsteren Sinfonie mit geheimnisvollen und emotionalen Klängen der Streicher und Perkussionsinstrumente und wunderbarem Gesang der zwei Solisten. Maestro Mäkelä dirigiert das kleine Orchester mit viel Präzision und Hingabe.
Notaire2 inspiriert ganze Kommentarspalten! Großartig.
Wunderbar! Bravo Maestro Makela et al.
It makes me so happy to know that classical music is attracting such incredibly talented people like Makela. He does an amazing job bringing such depth to this work. I owned the Ormandy version back in the early seventies and it pales in comparison to this performance!
You should try the Rostropvich version
Wunderschöne und spannende Aufführung dieser modernen und einzigartig konstruierten Sinfonie mit tiefer Stimme des genialen Basses und klarer Stimme der ebenso genialen Sopranistin sowie gut artikulierten und perfekt entsprechenden Tönen aller Insturumente. Der junge und intelligente Maestro dirigiert das ausgezeichnete Kammerorchester im gut analysierten Tempo und mit künstlerisch kontrollierter Dynamik. Wunderbar und atemberaubend zugleich!
bla, bla, bla ...
Splendid wonderful performance
Wonderful.
great performance of a masterpiece. deep understanding of the tragedy therein.
Danke! ...in jeder Hinsicht.
A superb interpretation!
Amazing !!
I need a complete Shostakovich symphony cycle from Makela, goddamn!
Looks like it's coming.
beautiful -- all of you!
The Malaguena clearly is an homage to his friend Britten, from whom Shostakovich imitates the style to perfection (Frank Bridge Variations)
Großartiges Konzertvideo der atemberaubenden Interpretation eines grandiosen sinfonischen Meisterwerks!
Ganz herzlichen Dank für die Verfügbarmachung dieses Mitschnitts! Perfektes Souvenir eines Konzertabends, den ich glücklicherweise vor Ort im hr-Sendesaal miterleben durfte.
Maestro KLAUS MÄKELÄ ist bereits ein ganz Großer! Die beiden Solisten sowie das hr-Sinfonieorchester laufen hier zu wahrer Hochform auf. Ich freue mich bereits auf künftige Gastdirigate MÄKELÄs - vielleicht auch einmal mit einer großen Sinfonie von Gustav Mahler, vielleicht der Dritten? :-)
Incredible, genius!
If you know first recording (with Zora Dolukhanova, Mark Ryeshetin and Rudolf Barshai) you can see, how similar is this performance to the Barshai version. This mentioned premiere recording from 1969 was made in the presence of Shostakovich himself. I think - the composer would be really satisfied with such a great interpretation so similar to the ideal first recording :D
Sorry, but Galina Vishnevskaya participated in the premiere, not Zara Dolukhanova
love it
It's the music of the waiting room for the hell... the receptionist said:"weit a eternity 🥺 please"
Great performance from every performer on the stage. What's more amazing is the young Finnish conductor Klaus Mäkelä was merely a 12-y-o old boy when Obama was elected US president! Bravo!
But that wasn't his fault!
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S T
S T
2 settimane fa
0:44 - I. Adagio. "De profundis" (Federico García Lorca)
5:50 - II. Allegretto. "Malagueña" (Federico García Lorca)
8:52 - III. Allegro molto. "Loreley" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
17:50 - IV. Adagio. "Le Suicidé" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
24:54 - V. Allegretto. "Les Attentives I" (On watch) (Guillaume Apollinaire)
27:46 - VI. Adagio. "Les Attentives II" (Madam, look!) (Guillaume Apollinaire)
29:39 - VII. Adagio. "À la Santé" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
40:07 - VIII. Allegro. "Réponse des Cosaques Zaporogues au Sultan de Constantinople" (Guillaume Apollinaire)
42:06 - IX. Andante. "O, Del'vig, Del'vig!" (Wilhelm Küchelbecker)
46:48 - X. Largo. "Der Tod des Dichters" (Rainer Maria Rilke)
52:23 - XI. Moderato. "Schlußstück" (Rainer Maria Rilke)
Phenomenal strings...
Briliáns!
me encanta..
Time melted in tunes
Shostakovich sings the 20th Century.
dayum
Mit Julia Varady und DFD habe ich vor vielen Jahren die 14 kennengelernt. Der Sopran in dieser Interpretation ist mir viel zu ruhig. Der Bass hingegen ist erstklassig.
forget No. 8 or 4...this is Shosty's darkest opus
Imagine playing this without conductor
👏👏👏👏👏
cool Finale. this is my favourite Shostakovich´s sinfonie. El tempo de esta sinfonia varía demasiado, depende el director y su forma de medir la muerte.
Audience: *claps for 7 years*
Symphony players: 😐
(Opera singing from beginning)
Herzlichen Dank für die Aufführung. Schade, dass man nicht die Fassung auf Originalsprachen gesungen hat. Schostakowitsch hat diese Fassung autorisiert (siehe zum Beispiel die Aufnahme von Haitink mit Varady und Fischer-Dieskau). García Lorca, Apollinaire oder Rilke sind einfach Titanen auf Spanisch, Französisch und Deutsch. Es klingt einfach besser und da kann keine Übersetzung mithalten
Who is the viola player?
Are we going to ignore the hot looking conductor
Fuck! This is sooooooo fucking good!
0:44 - I. Federico García Lorca, "De profundis"
A hundred ardent lovers
fell into eternal sleep,
deep beneath the dry ground.
Red sands now cover
the Andalusian roads.
The olive trees’ green boughs
spread shade over Córdoba.
Here a hundred crosses will be set,
so that people will not forget them.
One hundred lovers
sleep for ever.
5:50 - II. Federico García Lorca, "Malagueña"
Death
strides in and out
of the tavern.
Black horses
and dark souls
wander in the depths
of the guitar.
The smell of salt
and hot blood permeates
the blossoms
of the nervous sea.
Death
strides in and strides out,
strides out and strides in.
Death in the tavern.
8:52 - III. Guillaume Apollinaire, "Lorelei"
There was in Bacharach a sorceress fair,
who let every man around die of love.
The bishop had her summoned to his tribunal,
but absolved her in advance on account of her beauty.
“O fair Lorelei, with your eyes full of gemstones,
from which magician did you get your sorcery?”.
“I’m weary of living and my eyes are damned,
all men have perished, my lord, on meeting my gaze.
My eyes are flames and not gemstones,
throw, oh throw this sorcery into the flames”.
“I am ablaze in those flames, o fair Lorelei,
let another condemn you, for I am bewitched by you”.
“You laugh, my lord, when you should be praying to the Virgin for me,
so let me die, and may God protect you.
My lover has left for a far-off land,
so let me die, since there is nothing I love.
My heart aches so that I must die,
were I to look into my own eyes I should have to die.
My heart has ached so since he left,
my heart began to ache so the day he went away”.
The bishop summoned three knights armed with lances.
“Take this poor demented woman off to the convent.
Go now, deluded Lore, go, Lore with your trembling gaze,
you will be a nun, dressed all in black and white”.
Then all four set off along the highway.
Lorelei begged them, her eyes shining like stars.
“Good knights, allow me to climb up to that cliff so high,
to look one last time upon my fine castle.
To see one last time my reflection in the river,
then I shall go to the convent of maidens and widows”.
There on high the wind twisted her tumbling locks.
The knights cried out: “Lorelei, Lorelei!”.
“There far below a little boat is floating along the Rhine,
my lover is at the helm, he has seen me, he’s calling me.
My heart is filled with tenderness, ‘tis my lover who comes”.
Then she leant over the edge and fell down into the Rhine,
For the fair Lorelei had seen in its waters,
her Rhine-coloured eyes, her tresses golden as the sun.
17:50 - IV. Guillaume Apollinaire, "The Suicide"
Three tall lilies, three lilies lie on my unmarked grave.
Three lilies, whose freshness the cold wind wears away
and the black rain sometimes washes over them.
They are as beautiful and solemn as royal sceptre.
One grows from my wound, and at sunset
that mournful lily seems stained with blood.
Three tall lilies, three lilies lie on my unmarked grave.
Three lilies, whose freshness the cold wind wears away.
Another lily grows from my heart, which suffers
sorely on its wormy bed. The third tears at my mouth with its roots.
Upon my isolated grave all three stand
solitary and cursed I believe like me.
Three tall lilies, three lilies lie on my unmarked grave.
24:54 - V. Guillaume Apollinaire, "On the Alert"
Before night falls, he will die in the trench,
my little soldier, whose weary eyes
kept watch from the shelter, day after day
for Glory, which no longer takes to flight.
He will die today, before the coming of night,
my little soldier, my lover, my brother.
And that is why I want to become beautiful.
Let my breast burn as bright as a torch,
let my gaze melt the snow in the fields,
let me wear a belt of graves around my waist.
In incest and death, I want to become beautiful
for him who is to be killed.
The sunset lows like a cow; the roses blaze,
my eyes are enchanted by a blue bird.
The hour of Love sounded, the hour of terrible fever,
the hour of Death sounded and there is no way back.
Today, as roses die, he will die,
my little soldier, my lover, my brother.
27:46 - VI. Guillaume Apollinaire, "Look Here, Madame!"
“Madame, look here!
You have lost something…”.
“Oh, it’s nothing! Just my heart”. “Quickly, pick it up.
I have given it and reclaimed it.
It was down there in the trenches.
It is here I snap my fingers
at love, which is cut down by death”.
29:39 - VII. Guillaume Apollinaire, "At the Santé Jail "
Before going into my cell
I had to strip naked
and that sinister voice howled,
Guillaume, what’s become of you?
Lazarus going into his tomb,
instead of rising from it as he did.
Farewell, farewell songs and dances,
O my youth, o young girls.
No, here I no longer
feel I’m myself.
I’m number fifteen
in block eleven.
Every morning I pace
around a pit, like a bear.
We go round and round and round again,
the sky is blue like a chain.
Every morning I pace
around a pit, like a bear.
What will become of me, o God,
you who know my pain,
you who gave it to me?
Take pity on my dry eyes,
my pallor.
And on all those poor hearts beating in prison,
love, my companion.
Take pity above all on my feeble wits
and this despair that’s overpowering them.
The day is dying, see how a lamp
is burning in the prison.
We are alone in my cell,
fair light, beloved reason.
40:07 - VIII Guillaume Apollinaire, "Zaporozhye Cossacks’ Reply to the sultan of Constantinople"
More criminal than Barabbas,
horned like fallen angels,
what Beelzebub are you there below,
nourished on mud and filth?
We shall not come to your sabbath.
Putrid fish of Salonica,
long chain of nightmarish slumber,
eyes gouged out with the tip of a pike.
Your mother passed wind half-heartedly
and you were born from her colic.
Butcher of Podolia,
lover of wounds, of ulcers, of scabs,
pig’s snout, mare’s arse,
hold on tight to all your money
to pay for your medicines.
42:06 - IX. Wilhelm Küchelbecker, "O Delvig, Delvig!"
O Delvig, Delvig! What is the reward
for lofty deeds and poetry?
For talent, what comfort is there
among villains and fools?
In Juvenal’s stern hand,
a stinging whip menaces villains
and drives the colour from their faces,
and powerful tyrants shudder.
O Delvig, Delvig! What persecution?
Immortality is the same destiny
of bold and lofty deeds
and sweet song!
And so our bond will not perish
in freedom, joyful and proud!
In happiness and sorrow it stands firmly,
the bond of eternal lovers of the muses!
46:48 - X. Rainer Maria Rilke, "The Poet’s Death"
He was lying. His uptilted face had been pale
and unconsenting among the steep pillows
since the world and this knowing-about-it,
ripped away from his senses,
had reverted to the indifferent year.
Those who saw him living did not know
how very much he was one with all of this;
for this: these depths, these meadows
and these waters were his visage and vision.
Oh, his visage and vision was this whole wide-open space,
which as yet still wants to go to him and woos him;
and his mask, now dying in trepidation,
is tender and open, like the inside
of a fruit going bad through contact with the air.
52:23 - XI. Rainer Maria Rilke, "End Piece"
Death is immense.
We belong to him
of the laughing mouth.
When we think we are in the midst of life,
he dares to weep
in our midst.
Such young musicians for such a bleak work.
1:35
8:26
Only part I wasn't too fond of in this performances was the sixth movement, I feel the soprano's "khakhacho" was kind of weak compared to what I'm used to hearing. Everything else was absolutely superb though
Ich finde die Malagueña ein bisschen zu langsam
Всю симфонию боялся, что скрипач свалится со стула 😂
BTW Finnish singers pronounce russian quite well! Of course they aren't Russians :)
Оркестр - супер.. Бас, тоже ничего.. но певица не для Шостаковича..
Да подходят они оба +/-. Но текст - беда, конечно...
and i thought Rachmaninoff was scary
Вообще не о том поют солисты, внимательнее прорабатывать нужно вокальные планы
prefer mozart or beethoven nowdays...итак тошно
Love the 15th but that soprano puts me right off the 14th, definitely not for me.
Wearing a mask to block a virus [which isn't spread through the air] is like putting a screen door on a submarine or putting up a chain link fence to keep out mosquitoes!
We are under new evidences of dictatorship then ever with this pandemia, apparently Shostakovich is the perfect person to expose the whole evil of keeping the society control on bureaucrats and politicians hands. In just a few seconds they are able to judge his own music and personal style a degenerate thing. Be aware!
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@@eskay4551 They said the same thing about Shostakovich music during Soviet regime. Maistream media would say today his music is fake
Wait so how does the virus spread again? I didn't know that you're a virologist and know better than all the other scientists in the world. Please enlighten us on how covid spread if it's not through cough droplets, sneeze droplets, and etc that travel through the air! Please help us understand oh wise one
Sad to see the flat-earthers even reach this comment section, Virus is spread through the air in droplets - what's difficult to understand about that? You breathe the virus in though nose and mouth !!!!!