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Sang Huin found it refreshing to not have someone give him that surprise and grimace for being a Korean without a language. "No. Good symphony. Do you like Rimsky?" "Rimsky-Korsakov. Yes, not all of the music is Rimsky's but they were playing music from that composer earlier. He is Russian, one of the best, I think."
Just what in Rimsky's education produced his intellectualism, we do not know. Certainly it was nothing extraordinary, for society produces innumerable artists like him, who are fundamentally incapable of becoming the instrument every creative being is, and of discovering through themselves the consciousness of their fellows.
Intentionally, and to a certain extent, Rimsky's work is autochthonous. He was one of those composers who, in the middle of the last century, felt descend upon them the need of speaking their own tongue and gave themselves heartily to the labor of discovering a music entirely Russian.
The former's early works, in particular "L'Oiseau de feu," and the first act of the opera "Le Rossignol," related to Rimsky's in style as they are, have yet a faëry and wonder and flittergold that the master never succeeded in attaining. The music of "L'Oiseau de feu" is really a fantastic dream-bird.
Indeed, the works of Strawinsky reveal incessantly how much the master taught the pupil. But if they reveal Rimsky's keenness, they reveal his limitations as well. They bring into sharpest relief the difference between poetic and superficial expressiveness. For Strawinsky has in many instances successfully handled materials which Rimsky not quite satisfactorily employed.
But he won't hold it long. Believe me, I don't rest easy in my bed till Elsass comes after you. Not for so big a contract like Rimsky's, but bigger not for thirty concerts, but for fifty!" "Brava! Brava! There's a woman for you. More money than she knows what to do with, and then not satisfied!" She was still too tremulous for banter.
"Petrouchka" has a brilliance and vivacity and madness that makes Rimsky's scenes from popular life, his utilizations of vulgar tunes and dances scarcely comparable to it. Nowhere in any of Rimsky's reconstructions of ethnological dances and rites, neither in "Mlada" nor in "Sniegourochka," is there anything at all comparable to the naked power manifest in "Le Sacre du printemps."
But he won't hold it long. Believe me, I don't rest easy in my bed till Elsass comes after you. Not for so big a contract like Rimsky's, but bigger not for thirty concerts but for fifty!" "Brava! Brava! There's a woman for you. More money than she knows what to do with, and then not satisfied!" She was still too tremulous for banter.
How quickly the aërial tapestry woven by the orchestra of "Le Coq d'or" wears thin! How quickly the subtle browns and saffrons and vermilions fade! How pretty and tame beside that of Borodin, beside that of the "Persian Dances" of Moussorgsky, beside that of Balakirew, even Rimsky's Orientalism appears! None of his music communicates an experience really high, really poetic.
For all its gay and opulent exterior, its pricking orchestral timbres, his work is curiously objective and crystallized, as though the need that brought it forth had been small and readily satisfied. None of Rimsky's scores is really lyrical, deeply moving.
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