I once got sick after eating Mexican food, and it was a couple of years before I could even stand the smell of it (happily, that did not last). I was the same way about Philip Glass’s music for a while. I got off to a bad start with him by listening to The Photographer when I had a headache. The ever-shifting staccato rhythms became the very sound of the headache, and established an aversion that lasted for a couple of years. I did eventually get over that, but still didn’t really like him very much unti I heard this symphony performed by the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra (for whom it was written) ten years or so ago. I wasn’t expecting much, but I soon found myself caught up in it and in the end was enchanted. It was like a swift voyage on a troubled, but not stormy, grey sea.
I didn’t hear it again till recently, and I find that it’s as good as or better than I remembered. I love it, in fact. I haven’t heard all of Glass’s music by any means, but surely this must be at or near the top of his work. I think it ends a bit abruptly, but aside from that it strikes me as the perfection of his style.
The recording I’ve been listening to is this excellent one by Marin Alsop and the Bournemouth Symphony. It’s as taut and rich as I remember the Stuttgart group being.
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