From
Chicago Symphony
Mozart.
Violin.
Tender, breathtaking Sarah Chang.
Like a first kiss.
The avalanche of human souls
oscillated, and the hall floated under her
feet, torn off the ground conducted
by inspiration, force, and a music
miracle.
[November 9, 1997]
Cello. Yo-Yo Ma plays Bach.
Suite No.2 in D Minor.
Spirit melts, changes, transforms.
Only the musician’s body is
on Earth. The rest,
is in the Heavens.
[March 8, 1998]
Israel Philharmonic orchestra.
Conductor Zubin Mehta.
Wide touches, freshness,
mild background.
Full of life.
No anguish.
Pinchas Zukerman with them.
Plays Elgar Concerto in B Minor.
Violin sheds sorrow,
confidently narrates
the history
of its spiritual experience.
Straight forward.
Open, severe dialog with music.
One on one, no audience.
Undisguised lyric, guitar-like,
raw from his soul, yet pure.
The audience drunk
with purity and frankness.
They are his captives.
[
January 11, 1998]
On the stage scaffolding - Evgeny Kissin.
Himself.
Piano.
Music pours out, penetrates all pores,
it fills all chinks, sticks, tenaciously
catches everything living.
HE is a King of other elements, not
celestial, but earthly ones,
a clear and constant reminder
of himself.
Like the earth piece trying
to challenge and cover by itself
the heaven’s light,
obsessively seeks prisoners for his
kingdom beneath the moon.
He is its idol.
His smile melts grandly, perfectly in
his bows, intoxicated with significance,
the audience far below,
dissolves the fame
of this illuminated small, surreal
figure, detached from the
living mass. Mercilessly he
drinks success to the dregs,
doesn’t let his unwilling prisoners
go.
After more
than half an hour of involuntary
agony, the ovation
dies down.
The light
fades away.
The audience
disperses.
[April 17, 1998]
© G.Mesh UP
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