Russian Lieder at Paul Hall
Having staggered through Arctic wastes from Grand Central to Paul Hall on Monday night I was more than ready for a heady song fest of the Russians. It started off merrily enough with Glinka's liede about the langorous melancholy of despair followed by Rachmaninov's ode to embarrassing conversations. Rimsky Korsakov and Mussorgsky followed in suicidal mode about abandoned rendezvous and dying of love's wild longing before we were swept up by Shostakovich's "Lament for a Dead Infant", a lullaby for a father in prison in Siberia and a song cycle about collective farming ("I lived in a cramped and damp basement room, worn out by poverty.") It lasted only an hour. Some people left in tears.
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