Word: thunderously
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...brisk wind. His long tapered fingers shape the air with the aristocratic command of a symphony conductor, and his voice has a resonant precision that quells any incipient coughers in the audience. Psychically, his stage personality is one of intensely contained, almost glacial calm. He understates like distant rolling thunder. Even now, many blacks are playing the professional Negro on stage, parody Uncle Toms or militant minstrels, and thus catering to the applause and approval of guilt-intoxicated whites. Gunn never does this. At 40, he has an assured masculinity that lies in his bones and not his skin...
...both fiery and energetic, qualities highly necessary to this music. Calmer moments (as in the "Pastoral") now and then take on a tense, leashed-down quality that make a listener unnecessarily impatient for the storm to come. Particularly recommended to those who see Beethoven as a man with thunder in his eyes and lightning flashing from his fingertips...
...sure, bare-kneed bagpipers would be useless skirling through the booby-trapped jungles of Viet Nam. They would be hopelessly muffled by the thunder of an 1CBM. Yet the strident music that has emboldened soldiers for centuries has powerful defenders. A number of influential Congressmen, including House Armed Services Committee Chairman L. Mendel Rivers, whose mother was of the fabled piper family of McCay, and Minnesota Republican Clark MacGregor, remember their Scottish blood and are making Defense Secretary Melvin Laird's life miserable with their protests. His aides concede that the dispute is becoming one of the most nettlesome...
These qualities of mind and art are never better summed up than in the book's final poem, "Prologue at Sixty." Now beginning to listen to thoughts of his own death "like the distant roll/ of thunder at a picnic," the poet remains stubbornly tentative to the end. Part prayer, part history lesson, "Sixty" links Auden in his Austrian retreat to the Northern barbarian races-with whom Auden has always been conscious of kinship-and the long sweep of European history. "Turks have been here, Boney's legions,/ Germans, Russians, and no joy they brought." The medium through...
Cymbals crash. Kettledrums thunder. The screen fairly buckles under the image of a belching steel furnace. Then, from the midst of the apocalyptic flames, the title roars with a force that threatens the entire population of the first twelve rows of the orchestra. The Damned, it proclaims, shimmering with the intensity of white heat. A gratuitous parenthesis adds (Götterdammerung). It is too much. Like the rest of the film, it overpowers and finally overwhelms with its own unabashed sensationalism...