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Thursday, November 14, 2019
Beethoven :: essays research papers
It has been called the greatest audio entity one could ever listen to; a song which can pierce the soul of even the most dedicated music-hater: Beethovenââ¬â¢s Ninth Symphony. Not only has it been designated thus; also, as one of the few truly divinely inspired works, one which most men can only marvel at, as they wallow in their appropriate humility. These creations, however, are definitely not the only aspects of entities beyond the scopes of men; there are far more examples, which are seen every day, but often overlooked. I was walking outside, with this song echoing in the recesses of my mind, on a dismal, overcast day in the Autumnal quarter, a day when where the streets blended with the atmosphere, when one could hardly look up without feeling the singe of the wind against oneââ¬â¢s face. To me, these days have always conjured up images of some distant, looming storm, some silent tempest which, if not otherwise distracted will soon wreak mayhem and disaster on my environs. This day had an intense air about it, as do others of its ilk. This is most likely the fault of the storm under which it is shadowed, as though it and its inhabitants are uneasy and harrowed about the imminent predator waiting overhead to pounce. As the sky overhead swam with deeper and deeper shades of gray and hopeless black, the song in my mind was reaching some vocal crescendo in the fourth movement, a better foreteller of the gale I could not imagine. While the winds bullied and tormented the defenseless neighborhood, I started for my house. Unexpectedly, as the crescendo was losing speed, a quiet, pacific violin entered the musical fray in my brain, and the entire mood of the symphony mellowed, the winds themselves pacified, seemingly under Ludwigââ¬â¢s fickle dominion. Thinking the storm had passed, I continued blissfully onward to the meadows which were my destination. Again I was assaulted, this time by a different part of the symphony; not too long after the first chorale. This was the startling and almost fearful, but still uplifting, part in which the female and male vocals collided like two huge tidal waves with the power to splinter a fleet of ships with the German Alle Menschen repeated several times. Upon this onslaught of euphony, I turned from whatever I might have been thinking before, and looked at some violently twisting and rising leaves and other debris, and gazed at the playful heavens, again ominous. Annoyed with Beethoven and the cruel elements, I stood there, unmoving; indecisive, not knowing whether to turn around or pursue my present course, I felt the excited chorale still striking
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