On That Note

Fairly self-explanatory... 
If you're a regular, you've probably been mentally pacing back and forth between your ears, obsessing over the whereabouts of the unannounced vacancy of this portion of The Daily Serge for the past few weeks.  Initially intended to build suspense in the ongoing series on Muse's H.A.A.R.P. album (which I ironically won't be continuing today [I will undoubtedly get back to it IDT (in due time)]), the sabbatical was extended a week due to Labor Day last week.  I didn't want to be guilty of violating the holiday... 

If I had a DeLorean, I would do a lot of things.  Although this is somewhat besides the point, I ask that you hop in the passenger's seat of one I don't actually have as I guide our travel back 130 years from the time of our last discussion: 1880 is just on the horizon.  A promising new decade seems all the more promising with recent musical publications such as Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto (1878).  The technically demanding work finds a balance to the musical "Joe the Plumber" in that it is melodically sound (no pun intended).  It is easy, like with other disciplines, for learned listeners to respect a composition on the basis of its legitimacy on devices of composition, failing to realize that at the end of the day a composition is still only a composition - something meant to be aesthetically enjoyed, nothing more.  Tchaikovsky, one of the great Romantic, Russian, and Russian Romantic composers, is known for his rich melodic and emotional insight into musical communication and bridges the gap that few have been able to themselves bridge: creating a solo showcase that is able to captivate its listener to a degree.  Listen to the third movement.  You might not know what I'm talking about at all, but that's okay because it makes sense in my head, especially when I find myself dancing to it.

If you ever get the opportunity to see this piece performed live, I suggest you take the opportunity.  The more suave/posh the performer, the better, of course.  I can personally attest to this fact: seeing Joshua Bell perform the work with the Boston Symphony at his back (literally) trumped Sarah Chang and the Virginia Symphony.  The below images speak for themselves.


Until next time


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