Es muß sein

Beethoven's last piano sonata, Op. 111, movement II: Arietta

Hearing this work by pianist Anton Kuerti this afternoon, I realized just how important the role of music is in my life.  Music is my life. The Arietta is a testament to the beauty of absolute music that moves the heart.  It embodies the history of music up to the year of its composition, the rejection of all established musical convention, the existence of a higher truth that is music.  Its beauty is unparalleled. There isn't a more perfect composition.  Or, at least, that's what I felt when I heard it.  It is nothing; it is all.

How could I have only just now come across this great classical masterpiece?

Haydn's oratorio, Die Schöpfung (The Creation)

Schubert's Death and the Maiden quartet, movement 1, arranged for chamber orchestra

Bruckner Symphony No. 6, I. Maestoso

[must listen to the first two minutes and from 13:00 on]

This is my last week in Vienna, and officially the end of my semester abroad. The past six months have been so gratifying, recently capped off with Barenboim's Bruckner cycle at the Musikverein. 

In honor of Beethoven, I post this, the last movement he ever composed, which happens to be the source of this blog's title.

This past week, I was fortunate enough to visit the beautiful city of Prague.  As a tourist destination, I would highly recommend it. Otherwise, it seemed to be lacking in some areas.  Mostly, I couldn't help but feel as if I were in a giant theme park, 'Prague-themed,' where people go to see a beautiful city and then leave to go on with their busy lives.  The city is so overrun with tourists, it was difficult for me to see it as much else.  Nonetheless, I must admit Prague is a very beautiful city - even if only on the surface.

After seeing Smetana's famous opera, The Bartered Bride, I took the night train together with the other eleven students and professor from Prague to Vienna.  After a long, unsuccessful attempt at sleeping in the train car in preparation for our arrival in Vienna, I suddenly found myself in the Austrian capital, eating breakfast with the group, wishing for nothing more than a shower and bed. 

After meeting my new host family (an adorable older couple) I took my shower and nap, and was then ready to explore the new city.

My first impression: Vienna is a real city again, like Berlin, and it's so beautiful! Everywhere you go, you see gorgeous buildings. They're all rather large, making you feel pretty small in the city, but they all seem to have perfect aesthetical proportions. I don't feel the same sense of artificiality that I got in Prague.

Yesterday afternoon I was walking around with some friends, exploring the city, and ended up near an art museum. They happen to have an impressionistic paintings collection on exhibit, something I missed greatly in Berlin - where there didn't seem to be a trace of impressionism in the whole city, surprisingly. Somebody went to go check out prices for the museum while the rest of us sat down on the street level. After a while, we were called up from the street to the balcony that I hadn't noticed was a part of the museum. When we reached the top of the stairs, we found ourselves on a beautiful secluded terrace, with the sunset on the horizon making the sky purple and hazy. Birds were chirping, and the architecture all around us was gorgeous. It was so beautiful. I hope I get to experience more moments like this one while I'm here, especially as it becomes warmer.

I'm looking forward to the longer days!  

Robert Rauschenberg, a new favorite artist

I visited the Alte Nationalgalerie on Thursday - a vast collection of German artwork (and a few French Impressionists thrown in!) - and the DDR (old East Germany) Museum on Saturday. See photos and read about the experience here, on a friend's blog.

Renoir's Chestnut in Blossom, at the Alte Nationalegalerie in Berlin

I went to my second concert today. The Konzerthausorchester was led by Ivan Fischer in a soul-stirring, tearful performance of Mahler's Third Symphony - his longest, running over an hour and a half long, makes it the longest symphony in the standard repertoire.  I was lucky enough to be able to hear a performance in the beautiful Konzerthaus:

The symphony could arguably be the composer's best work, as he pushed his creativity to limits that weren't so brashly approached in his later works. The first movement could be a symphony in its own right, running around 35 minutes long. The remaining middle movements lead the listener through a mix of military marches, dances, and pure musical beauty.  Fischer seemed to pull out every last detail in the music, and I am still wondering if the orchestra was miked (microphones were hanging from the ceiling, but you see those at all concert halls for recording purposes - I don't know if they were actually using them to enhance their sound, or if they were really the best orchestra I've ever heard, aided by my central location in the hall, seen below). 

View of the Konzerthaus stage from my 60,-€ seat

I couldn't keep my eyes dry for a single minute throughout the half-hour final movement - a musically beautiful testament to love - as I couldn't help but feel the emotion of a deepest love move within me, with the music. 

I've moved into my room in Berlin:

I arrived in Berlin today around one in the afternoon, took the S/U-Bahn to find where I'll be staying for the next two months.  Sabine, my host, is a wonderful woman who cooked some noodle soup for me as a late lunch.  I wanted to explore the city [read find a concert], so I looked up what was playing at the Philharmonie: none other than Beethoven!  His Missa Solemnis (a work for full orchestra, chorus, and four soloists) was being performed as a Neujahrkonzert (you can figure that one out).  The concert was nearly sold out, but there were still cheap seats available up in the high balconies.  I took a short nap (after getting only about two hours' sleep on the plane) and then headed straight to the Philharmonie. 

It was completely unreal, seeing the magical, fantastical building I have always dreamed of visiting, right in front of my own eyes.  Seeing the masses of people attending the concert was inspiring - 'music should be appreciated like this the world over,' I couldn't help but think to myself.  I was standing in a long line to purchase my ticket, when a middle-aged man scalping tickets approached me. "Kaufst du eine Einzelkarte?" [are you buying a single ticket?], he asked me. "Ja", was my reply, as I was thinking how to kindly reject his offer in German.  "Hier" [here], he said as he handed me a ticket.  I was about to ask him how much he wanted for the ticket, but before I could get the second syllable out, he wished me a Happy New Year and left.  I yelled "Danke!", trying to show my appreciation through the emphaticism of my voice.But he was gone, and I had just received a free ticket to Beethoven in the Philharmonie!

Then I looked at the ticket: A rechts, Reihe 10, Platz 20.  That's pretty much the best seat in the house! Dead center, ten rows back. I was astonished that this man had come to the concert hall to give away a ticket to me - a stranger from America. I don't know why he chose me, but I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world right now. 

Though it wasn't the Berliner Philharmoniker playing, it was Beethoven, and it was German.  A very warm welcome to Berlin.

Happy Birthday, Sibelius!!!

To celebrate, one of the best moments in the entire classical symphonic repertoire: Symphony No. 2, last two movements, conducted by Leonard Bernstein.

If you're too impatient, here are the best moments:

[6:10-6:50] (the transition between the movements)