Day of wrath

I have been listening to Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini literally all my life. My parents were fans of Arthur Rubinstein and we had a record of his performance. Rachmaninoff became one of my favourite composers, so I never stopped. Listening today in the car I noticed, for the first time, its reference to the Dies Irae. In this Stephen Hough performance it first turns up at 3:48 as a murmured meditation on the piano, then again as a brief outburst at 5:58. Here are the second and third parts. Not suprisingly, the theme returns in full glowering orchestral wrath at the end (part 3, 4:47).

I had heard the composer worked the theme into practically everything he wrote. Apparently Rachmaninoff was a devout Christian. Charlie Chaplin recorded this exchange in My Autobiography:

I remember [Vladimir] Horowitz, the pianist....Just before [World War II] I dined at his house with his wife, the daughter of Toscanini. Rachmaninoff and Barbirolli were there....It was an intimate dinner, just five of us.

It seems that each time art is discussed I have a different explanation of it. Why not? That evening I said that art was an additional emotion applied to skillful technique. Someone brought the topic round to religion and I confessed I was not a believer. Rachmaninoff quickly interposed: "But how can you have art without religion?"

I was stumped for a moment. "I don't think we are talking about the same thing," I said. "My concept of religion is a belief in a dogma--that art is a feeling more than a belief."

"So is religion," he answered. After that I shut up.

Nevertheless, Rachmaninoff's music betrays a fascination with devilishness. He never strays far from strains of evil and horror. Unfortunately, this entire Rhapsody resonates with my state of mind today: frantic, recondite(!), impatient, impetuous, furious. It brought me to tears, but I don't mean the lovely, famous variation no. 18 (end of part 2). I empathized with the tearing, clattering rages.

Last night I went to bed on time but slept poorly. Today more emotions rise to the surface. My tolerance has gone on vacation without me.