Kate and Sam and I drove to Toledo last night, for all the love that's involved in Beethoven 5 and Shostakovich 11. It was a warm and wonderful sort of performance; I had mixed feelings about the third movement of the Shosty, but the most of it was intense and brutal and bestial, mixed in with the gentle caresses of strings and bells. Love.
Apparently this inspired Sam more than we'd anticipated, because this morning, I woke up to the vicious, hateful strains of Shostakovich 10's second movement. On the one hand, I was moderately annoyed to be awoken less than eight hours after I'd gone to sleep. On the other hand, I love that song a great deal, and it was almost a nice way to wake up.
Delicious.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
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