Newsgroup: it.arti.musica.classica
Titolo: Ma cosa ascoltava Prokofeev ?

 
          Riprendo qui un mio vecchio filone da tempo abbandonato...
Mi cheido talora. ma Shostacoso cosa amava ascoltare ?
qauli erano i dischi preferiti di Prokofeev ? Per quali solisti Stravinskji
impazziva ?
Cosa soleva canticchiare Alban Berg ?
buona notte e sogni d'oro...
a, vn
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 Mi cheido talora. ma Shostacoso cosa amava ascoltare ?
We met for the second time in March 1968. [...]  Shostakovich sat down on a
swivel stool at the piano, placing me a fair distance away from him on the sofa
by the entrance. Very excited, he started by asking my impressions of my journey
from Siberia (I had just returned from Novosibirsk), about the concerts devoted
to my compositions, and the people I had met there. [...] Then he took a sudden
interest in Poland and Polish music. He recalled that his father had spoken
Polish perfectly and recited a funny nursery rhyme by Jan Brzechwa. Then he
added, as if excusing himself: "Maybe it displeases you,but I don't like Chopin
too much. Um, for example, the A major prelude..." - and he began to sing in a
muffled, high voice imitating playing a piano, tossing his hands in the air with
an abandon more appropriate to one of Liszt's Études d'execution transcendante
than to Chopin's simple miniature. Then, abruptly, he declared: "I can't sing.
I've lost my voice completely."
[...]
When we saw each other for the last time, in April 1974, he was very weak and
tired. He confessed: "Now I know for sure that I'll never recover. But I've
learned not to think about it."
This last meeting was particularly depressing. He sat on the chair, almost not
moving, gesturing only with his fit left hand. He couldn't see well, which his
thick glasses indicated. (He admitted that his short-sightedness was more than
fifteen diopters.) Irina Antonovna brought a big bottle of Napoleon brandy and he
boasted that his doctors had allowed him to drink alcohol again. We sat for
several hours, slowly sipping cognac. Shostakovich gradually became more
animated. Not much, however, was left of his old spontaneity and vehemence. Only
once when the talk was about Mahler did he cry out: "His symphonies!... I like
the First one best... and also the Second... and Third... Also the Fourth is
wonderful!... and Fifth. Also the Sixth and Seventh... The Eighth is
marvellous... and the Ninth!!!... yes, and the Tenth. But if I was told I had
only one hour to live, I'd like most to listen to the final part of the Song of
the Earth."
For years I had been encouraging him to write a clarinet quintet. He pondered on
it: "Who knows... I've never thought about it... but this is an interesting
idea." During our last meeting he was not so convinced: "I don't like Brahms'
Clarinet Quintet. I prefer the Horn Trio. Once I heard Tsyganov playing it
often... And perhaps I don't know the Quintet so well... Mozart's Quintet is
splendid... but Brahms's?... I guess Brahms is primarily a symphonist..." And
suddenly he got excited: "I like the Fourth Symphony most, it's the best one.
Then the Second, the First, and the Third least of all, that's for sure."
http://www.siue.edu/~aho/musov/meyer/meyer.html

 the Earth."
...E qui recupera 2-3 dei 100 punti persi con quelle minchiate su
Chopin.
S.
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