Word: rhythm
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Only when the heroine goes into her ''dance of vengeance" do things liven up again. At that point Conductor Mitropoulos took over the dancer's role for himself, shrugging one shoulder grotesquely to the syncopated piano rhythm, splaying the fingers of his left hand to the spastic tempos. The music got more conventional in texture as it got noisier, but ultimately, sheer noise was sufficient: as the last, clubbing chord thundered out, the Philharmonic's subscribers gasped, and then burst into applause...
...accident. I was banging out a melody at the piano, one afternoon, when Sherwood dropped in. He listened for a few minutes and I turned to him and said, "All I need is a lyric." Without so much as a flicker, he grabbed some paper and began drafting the rhythm on which to base his lines. I have heard of rapid composers but I doubt if any other American lyricist could equal the speed of Sherwood, or, for that matter, could compose finer poems. His skill was uncanny...
Shostakovich: Violin Concerto, Opus 99 (David Oistrakh; New York Philharmonic-Symphony, conducted by Dimitri Mitropoulos; Columbia). The finest moments of Soviet Violinist Oistrakh's recent visit to the U.S. (TiME, Jan. 9) sound even better on records. Reason: in this concerto, the violin's rhythm often runs against that of the orchestra; in a large hall with a full orchestra, the violin part is sometimes buried, but studio technicians, who can magnify small sounds, restore the balance...
...gave the cast an 8½-minute ovation. The second night the nation's top leaders-Khrushchev, Molotov, Malenkov, Kaganovich, Mikoyan-were on hand, staying through a couple of curtain calls and applauding vigorously. Gasped the artistic director of Moscow's Mayakovsky Theater: "What a tempo! What rhythm...
...balconies over the water, and they wield stout poles from which dangle a short line and a large bare hook. The tuna flash up to take the chum, and many get a hook instead. In hook, out fish, in hook, out fish-the work falls quickly into a pounding rhythm that maddens the blood like drums. The deck-holes are filling fast with 20-pounders that flail like thunder as the blood-mist steams above their thousand throes. The run stops as suddenly as it began. A storm is rising, and the fish go down...