Sunday, April 29, 2007

He's gone

Mstislav Rostropovich, absolutely my favorite cellist ever. I don't know enough to claim: "He represented the true greatness of Russia." What I do know is that he played the cello marvelously well and infected his audience with his enthusiasm. Rotropovich playing his best was Rostropovich breaking the horsehair strands of his bow as he banged out a piece full of energy, chanting dah dah in time with the music and spitting out upon the audience as he did so.

I switched from the front to the second row after that. But I didn't love his music any less for it.

He belongs to the ages now. And to the angels in heaven I offer this advice: Not so close!

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