Word: ichs
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Bach's cantata No. 133 "Ich Freue Mich in Dir," was performed by the orchestra and a small vocal ensemble. Under Harbison's forceful leadership, the instrumentalists consistently produced a luminous full-bodied tone. A highlight was provided by the sensitive oboe and continuo accompaniment to the contralto's aria; it had the cohesiveness of chamber music at its finest...
...Ich verachte die Deutschen" ("I despise the Germans"), reads the caption beneath the photo of London Daily Mirror Columnist William Neil Connor on the cover of last week's Der Spiegel (circ. 350,000), West Germany's brisk, brash newsmagazine. Inside, in a ten-column question-and-answer interview headlined...
Florida's International Twelve-Hour Grand Prix of Endurance was less than four hours old when Chicago's Bob Gold-ich, 33, took a tricky S turn just a touch too fast. His little (1.9 liters) Arnolt-Bristol sports car skidded across a taxiway at Sebring's abandoned airfield and rolled into a sideways somersault. A graduate of the dangerous melees of midget-auto racing and the father of two children, Goldich was dead of a broken neck before he reached the hospital...
Living up to its name, the orchestra also played two Bach cantatas. The first was a solo cantata for baritone, strings, oboe, and continue, Ich hab genug (No. 82.). The orchestra was beautifully conducted by Greenebaum, but soloist Gary Gaines was clearly unequal to the taxing vocal line. His voice lacked support, volume, and depth; and his breath control was insufficient to sustain the phrases. The other cantata, Wachet auf (No. 140), fared better. The chorus, numbering only twelve, was well trained by Edward Lloyd, and bass soloist Thomas Beveridge sang with feeling. The soprano soloist was Sara-Jane Smith...
...minor complaint-your failure to point out that the mystic-sounding terms Id, Ego and Superego are just so much Anglo-American psychiatric jabberwocky for simple concepts. In his native German, Freud used understandable terms: es, ich and überich-literally translatable as the it, the I and the beyond-I. This kind of linguistic lily-gilding by Freudian exponents is the stuff that cultism is made...