I have to catch up on my learning delay. The concert in which Ganymede will perform with the McGill Symphony Choir takes place next week. We will sing Shostakovich’s 13th symphony, called Babi Yar, for male choir and baritone.
I’ve always loved Shostakovich. At the time of the vinyl era, I had the complete collection of quartets that I played extensively. However, I do not know much about his work beyond his quartets. Listening to Babi Yar today, the chaotic melodies of the power to live resonate in me. We do not listen to Shostakovich for entertainment, but to remember the struggle of existence. A mixture of anguish, charm, grandiloquence and insecurity, the composer’s music is firmly rooted in humanity, which has caused him many torments, for as a free but devoted artist, he could criticize Stalin as much as give glory to the Soviet Union.
That time when he lived was rich in blood. Shostakovich’s genius was to paint it with a glowing scalpel in his hand and heart. Only music, and undoubtedly cinema, can illustrate the human condition in this way. I always dream that this breath will nourish my poor grammar.