Skip to main content

Brahms Symphonies # 2 & 3

I enjoyed neither of these compositions, although the 3rd movement from the 2nd symphony was great.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I cudn't agree more... but hey, even the 2nd movement is not that bad.
Deepanjan said…
Really? What was the tempo?
Anonymous said…
It varies. Starts off really slow, but kind of keeps changing during the 38 minutes of play.
Deepanjan said…
Nope! The 2nd movement ends long before that. In fact, even the 3rd movement is over by then!
Vivek said…
If u guys really wanna know something about tempo, listen to Darude.
Deepanjan said…
From what Wikipedia tells me, I gather Darude could only teach me a thing or two about noise.
Anonymous said…
Tempo????
Do you guys mean that vehicle used to take chickens from the coop to the slaughter house or the one used to ferry gas cylinders?

And BTW, Darude in Marathi means a dipsomaniac.
Anonymous said…
Are we talking about drunkards??
Deepanjan said…
Sameera, the name says it all!
No offence meant, Darude.

In musical terminology, tempo (Italian for "time") is the speed or pace of a given piece.

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still