Musicians have a slight tendency to surprise their more than die hard listeners with serendipitous motifs, enough to make those gawk in laughter. Much of the energy to a less than fine tuned ear may seem at sometimes overwhelming, unable to really feel what is really going on. A broad push against the flow with an unusual key change is as grandeur as royal fanfare is to a crowd, but in all flourishes the listener has gone deaf. Expect to expect, disregarding all subtlety.
Sometimes, one must look closer.
For once, the thoughts of a man are written out in a congealed mess of semiquavers in anxious patterns. An internal struggle between a lost homeland forever in the powerful memory of one who remembers will circumvent all dire needs to protest and mediate. Radically increasing tones, aching through melody to anyone who can hear the bittersweet call of this “Major” piece of work. A distant past that only grows farther away, painful memories of the haunting bells droning out the villa of Semyonov, where everything was perfect. A story of his life as he tries to reclaim the glory of what once was, but this time as a prisoner of time. This is the story of a man who forever immortalized his soul into music that still brings tears and chills, hundreds of years later to a out of touch world who has turned their backs against what is pure and beautiful in this world. Seeing is believing.