a form of thinking
Writing
shape of thought
The Musical Memory of a Nation
Sometimes a concert leaves behind more than music.
It awakens the quiet memory of a people.
“Good concert, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, a very good concert. Good night.”
These were the brief words
exchanged with the gentleman sitting next to me
when the lights in the hall came on
and the orchestra was already leaving the stage.
But to say “good” is not enough.
It was impressive.
The third concert of the symphonic cycle at SNG Maribor took place this evening.
The programme was constructed with remarkable intelligence.
Thanks to the programme of SNG Maribor, I continue discovering new names and new cultural spaces.
At the centre of the evening stood the Slovenian composer Bojan Adamič (1912–1995) — conductor, pianist and arranger.
His work Tri narodne za simfonični orkester presents orchestral interpretations of Slovenian folk songs.
The music sounded like an epic poem.
There was a great sense of space in it —
created by the voices of the wind instruments.
The scale of the work grows out of interwoven motifs,
shifting musical narratives,
and the solemn power of the full orchestra.
While listening to music I am always curious to observe the associations it awakens.
This time my mind returned unexpectedly to literary scenes from Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
The connection came from the same sense of epic scale.
Through his novel, Tolstoy portrayed the history of a nation — through the lives of individuals and the movement of historical events.
Adamič, through music, achieves something similar:
folklore, expressed in symphonic form, becomes a living embodiment of national memory.
The music of Adamič is an epic.
It is the heritage of the Slovenian people.
Each concert of the subscription cycle creates an inner movement within me. And on evenings like this I am reminded again that:
Culture is not abstract.
Culture is us.
Sometimes a concert leaves behind more than music.
It awakens the quiet memory of a people.
“Good concert, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, a very good concert. Good night.”
These were the brief words
exchanged with the gentleman sitting next to me
when the lights in the hall came on
and the orchestra was already leaving the stage.
But to say “good” is not enough.
It was impressive.
The third concert of the symphonic cycle at SNG Maribor took place this evening.
The programme was constructed with remarkable intelligence.
Thanks to the programme of SNG Maribor, I continue discovering new names and new cultural spaces.
At the centre of the evening stood the Slovenian composer Bojan Adamič (1912–1995) — conductor, pianist and arranger.
His work Tri narodne za simfonični orkester presents orchestral interpretations of Slovenian folk songs.
The music sounded like an epic poem.
There was a great sense of space in it —
created by the voices of the wind instruments.
The scale of the work grows out of interwoven motifs,
shifting musical narratives,
and the solemn power of the full orchestra.
While listening to music I am always curious to observe the associations it awakens.
This time my mind returned unexpectedly to literary scenes from Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
The connection came from the same sense of epic scale.
Through his novel, Tolstoy portrayed the history of a nation — through the lives of individuals and the movement of historical events.
Adamič, through music, achieves something similar:
folklore, expressed in symphonic form, becomes a living embodiment of national memory.
The music of Adamič is an epic.
It is the heritage of the Slovenian people.
Each concert of the subscription cycle creates an inner movement within me. And on evenings like this I am reminded again that:
Culture is not abstract.
Culture is us.
Вojan Adamič
1912-1995
