The boy’s face reflects the accumulated exhaustion. It has been four very hard days to take care of his mother permanently. Not long ago she was a widow. The doctor gave her no hope at the last visit, but she’s still here. The rhythm of her breathing matches the desolation of the son who assists her with delicate enthusiasm. It’s already night. He looks at her uncertainly, unable to keep his head upright. Fatigue causes him to bang it against the back of the chair until he falls asleep with his mouth open and in an awkward position.
Out of nowhere, a waltz sounds as a faint reddish glow fades across the room. The mother wakes up and manages to get up on her own. The music takes over her body movements and she stretches her arms out to an audience that doesn’t exist. A group of shadows surround her to the beat of the waltz, but no one looks at her. She thinks she recognizes her deceased husband among the gloomy guests. Finally she falls into bed exhausted. They knock on the door, but it was already open, revealing a glimpse of the shadow of death. The spectral dancers disappear with the last gasp. The son wakes up terrified. His mother has escaped.
The music that Jean Sibelius (1865-1957) wrote for the work of his brother-in-law, Arvid Järnefelt, entitled Kuolema (Death) is subtly beautiful. The Finnish composer premiered it on December 2, 1903, but it wasn’t until a year later that he revised it and called it “Sad Waltz.”
When you listen to the composition, you feel a special fascination from the first bars, because we are dealing with a ghostly waltz with constant tonality changes that avoid the musical resolution that the musically trained brain craves. Sibelius is a master of playing wobbly harmonies and rhythm changes that hit the heart straight.
Sad Waltz, Opus 44, No. 1 is a short orchestral work as the calling card of the Finnish composer. The sound is so characteristic of Sibelius that the mournful character of the score does not hide his admiration for the waltzes of Johan Strauss.
The melancholy with which Jean Sibelius adorns the sad story of his brother-in-law is supported by the timbres of flute, clarinet, horns, timpani and strings. The composer’s pen makes magic emerge from these instruments, magic for which the listener can only nestle in the dark room where the enchantment of our today’s story plays out.
Source: La Verdad
I am David Jackson, a highly experienced professional in the news industry. I have been working as an author at Today Times Live for over 10 years, and specialize in covering the entertainment section. My expertise lies in writing engaging stories that capture readers’ attention and deliver timely information about the latest developments.
