ฝัง
- เผยแพร่เมื่อ 17 ธ.ค. 2021
- Khatia Buniatishvili - Récital à la Fondation Louis Vuitton (live)
26 novembre 2021
PROGRAMME
Éric Satie, Gymnopédie n°1
Frédéric Chopin, Prélude n°4 op. 28, Scherzo n°3 en ut dièse mineur op. 39
Jean-Sébastien Bach, Suite orchestrale n°3 BWV 1068, Air sur la corde sol
Franz Schubert, Impromptu n°3 en sol bémol majeur op. 90
Franz Liszt, Sérénade S.560/7 d’après Ständchen de Franz Schubert
Frédéric Chopin, Polonaise en la bémol majeur op. 53 / Mazurka en la mineur n°4 op. 17
François Couperin, Les barricades mystérieuses
Jean-Sébastien Bach, Prélude et Fugue pour orgue BWV 543 (transcription pour piano de Franz Liszt)
Franz Liszt, Consolation n°3
Franz Liszt, Rhapsodie Hongroise n°2
ENCORE:
Jean-Sébastien Bach/Alessandro Marcello, Concerto en ré mineur BWV 974 2. Adagio
Claude Debussy, Suite Bergamasque 3. Clair de Lune
Serge Gainsbourg - La Javanaise
I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THIS MUSIC.
PROGRAMME
0:00:00 Éric Satie, Gymnopédie n°1
0:03:28 Frédéric Chopin, Prélude n°4 op. 28, 0:06:05 Scherzo n°3 en ut dièse mineur op. 39
0:13:07 Jean-Sébastien Bach, Suite orchestrale n°3 BWV 1068, Air sur la corde sol
0:18:33 Franz Schubert, Impromptu n°3 en sol bémol majeur op. 90
0:24:45 Franz Liszt, Sérénade S.560/7 d’après Ständchen de Franz Schubert
0:32:48 Frédéric Chopin, Polonaise en la bémol majeur op. 53 / 0:39:08 Mazurka en la mineur n°4 op. 17
0:44:11 François Couperin, Les barricades mystérieuses
0:46:39 Jean-Sébastien Bach, Prélude et Fugue pour orgue BWV 543 (transcription pour piano de Franz Liszt)
0:58:02 Franz Liszt, Consolation n°3
1:02:46 Franz Liszt, Rhapsodie Hongroise n°2
ENCORE:
1:08:05 Jean-Sébastien Bach/Alessandro Marcello, Concerto en ré mineur BWV 974 2. Adagio
1:10:58 Claude Debussy, Suite Bergamasque 3. Clair de Lune
1:15:48 Serge Gainsbourg - La Javanaise
What I love most about KB’s playing is that her musical conception of the music comes first, and she then draws on her breathtaking technique to make those concepts actually become real to the listener. I would love to hear her perform live.
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything.
Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business becau ...
George. I will have that pleasure tomorrow. I am looking forward to it immensely.
I was supposed to hear Khatia perform LIVE for my first time, next weekend in Kansas City but she had to reschedule until next year due to ongoing pandemic concerns. I would wait an eternity to hear my favorite artist. Thank you so much for sharing this performance. I love Khatia's style, and her sound is unmistakable. Already one of the great pianists of our time, and still so young. Looking forward to her continued sucess. I'll be here for all of it.❤🌹
Simplemente Maravillosa la escucho durante horas y horas...
You are a gift and treasure for the world to experience. Thank you.
I have long admired Khatia and have tickets for her recital in May at the Barbican in London. She is performing this programme and I am very excited about seeing her live for the first time.
She is already one of the greats. incredible pianist.
L'année commence bien ! Un tel programme, interprété par une des toutes meilleures pianistes de sa génération, j'ai cliqué sur "J'aime", avant même de voir et d'écouter le récital.
Bonne année à vous Khatia, je vous souhaite le meilleur dans votre vie personnelle et musicale.
Chère Khatia,
"Je vous souhaite, à vous et à votre famille, une bonne et heureuse année en bonne santé et en sécurité",
et
"Je vous souhaite le meilleur dans votre carrière musicale".
Sincères amitiés
thoriel
P.S : Merci pour votre musique charmante et paisible
I love this programme and enjoyed every moment of this beautiful expressive performance!
I have a ticket to hear this concert by wonderful Khatia tomorrow. I cannot wait!
The very first note... and you know something marvelous is going to happen. Thanks, Mrs. Buniatishvili, for your great contributions to music.
C'est magique de vous écouter Kathia ! On voudrait que cela dure toujours... Interprétations expressives qui donne émotions et réflexion sur la vie, les choses..., le temps qui les anime. Unissant les âmes et les coeurs..., vous êtes une musicienne intemporelle... Quand on vous écoute, s'est ce que l'on a l'esprit, comme une évidence, comme un amour éternel qui émane ses sens... Tout ce que vous jouez nous emporte littéralement !
Merci de nous donner autant !
❤ Kathia, étonnante, belle, parfois rebelle, au service d'un art qu'elle transcende pour son plaisir, pour celui de nous faire plaisir...! ❤
* Un réel ressentis, beaucoup de projets..., de pages à écrire... *
❤🌺🌞 Tout est possible !!!
Sublime Khatia icône du piano mondial quel bonheur de te retrouver 🙏👏👏👏👏💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟
Icône des médias et du bling bling surtout, du piano certainement pas !!!
It's a wonderful moment of music. Thank you so much for this share.
That's marvelous, many thanks for uploading and sharing with us! 🙏🎹🌹
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
Обожаю Вас, вы одно целое с музыкой, Хатия!
Beautiful Playing. Top class artist.
Khatia hates being labeled a Wunderkind but I think that entirely envelopes her ever-widening sphere of influence... such talent and elegant percussion expressions!!
I really enjoy Khatia Buniatishvili's style and interpretations. Bravo!
Потрясающая в своей гениальности грузинская пианистка.Харизматичная,артистичная,суперпрофессиональная,всего тебя захватывающая своим исполнением.Я не знаю,кто ещё сегодня из пианистов так может играть.
@@georgescancan7503 во всех этих статьях в бульварных газетёнках большое внимание уделяется платьям Хатии,и это неудивительно,ведь больше этим писакам написать нечего.Они понимают в музыке,как свинья в апельсинах.Ты похоже такой же знаток.
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
Найдите в ютюбе мнение профессионалов на стиль игры Хатии. Стиль чтения музыкального текста называют фривольным . Исполнение больше напоминает развлекательной музыки в классической музыке.
Большие профессиональные пианистки не сидят полуголые за роялем. Есть определенный аутфит, которому обязательно следуют.
Выглядит все , конечно, эффектно, но здесь имеет место очень сильная пиаркомпания . Бизнес!
Khatia, 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤. What more can I say!
Great Artist
Excelente pianista. Muchas Gracias por compartir. Saludos desde México.
.......CARISSIMA KHATIA , SEI L’UNICA CHE ASCOLTARTI MENTRE SUONI IL PIANOFORTE MI TOGLI IL RESPIRO , TALMENTE MI EMOZIONI. UN INFINITO ABBRACCIO JO ALBOT
Simplemente, bello!
MERAVIGLIOSA KHATIA !!!!!!
Katia vc nasceu para brilhar, uma grande pianista , e uma linda mulher
I've been following KHATIA since her Brahms 2. I hope to have a second rendition of those gifted Hands. KHATIA Will be remembered forever. So Talented and BEAUTIFUL Lady.
Khatia Buniatishvili her Schumann piano concerto no 2 Best Ever! Only Radu Lupu better than Khatia Buniatishvili! Brahms 2 concerto The Genius group 1:Grigory Sokolov 2: Sviatoslav Richter3: Edwin Fischer 4; Khatia Buniatishvili
@@RaineriHakkarainen
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
EXCELENTE PIANISTA Y LA FOTOGRAFIA MARAVILLOSA
So beautiful and and lovely, Greatings from NOLA.
Ela é tão maravilhosa! Muito obrigado por compartilhar. Feliz ano novo! 🙏🥂🍾
Une grâce !.... ce dimanche...
Pianista admirável !... è um prazer escutá-la ...
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
Esecuzione magistrale di brani di assoluto valore lirico.
Invidio gli spettatori||||||
Lei è una grande artista e straordinatria pianista, con una tecnica insuperabile, con un tocco magico e pensato ci fa dono della sua anima,
Dommage qu'il n'y ait pas les images car Khatia c'est aussi un corps qui vit la musique qu'elle interprète !
Vous devriez jouer encore plus mu, quel bonheur !
Thanks a lot
Good to hear you again.😻
Beautiful Poweful Delicate Sensitive Exellent
Khatia sei sempre una bravissima interprete dei Maestri compositori 👏
CARISSIMA KHATIA , QUANDO SUONI IL PIANOFORTE MI BLOCCHI IL RESPIRO , TALMENTE MI EMOZIONI. UN INFINITO ABBRACCIO JO ALBOT
Non quello. Corro 'Labyrinth' su CD-ROM quando non riesco a dormire. Ogni tanto sogno di Khatia...♥
Hello my dear sweetheart darling. Amazing solo good music. Warms my heart to hear your performance
Espetacular!!!
Love the performance, Unfortunately can't forget the dancing puppies video whenever I see her name!
I always wondered what the name of that melody was. I knew it was by Eric Satie, but I couldn't match it up with the title. It was actually used in a tv commercial, long ago
I've been listening to her performance only here, and I finally listen to her performance live today.
I can't get rid of my lingering feelings. All the performances were so good, but personally Polonaise was really shocking.
I do not know what you are talking about. Her playing is precise.
lovely
I love slow stuff,
in moderation of course.
This beginning is a wonderful and thoroughly felt accomplishment.
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
I need to find more adjectives to describe your extreme talent! 🤔
👏 🌹. . .🎶🎺
Красавица...
OH MY GOD!!!!!!
!
Soon in São Paulo. And I already have my tickets!!!
감사합니다
Much love D
Beautiful music and woman, a wonderful combination!!!
So DELICATE, So Beautiful. So Serene , MAGNIFICENT. BRAVA,BRAVISIMA
Интересно!
La Javanaise by Serge Gainsbourg, c'est mervelleux, comme elle l'a joué. Serge aurais aimer la version d'elle.
Al fin, vuelvo a escuchar esa joya de Chopin: la Mazurka en La menor. Poco frecuentada por los interpretes...
Bonjour, pourriez-vous me dire d'où vous avez tiré l'audio de la vidéo s'il vous plaît ? Merci beaucoup !
Please would it be possible to know where you got the audio from? Thank you!
🎵
Ao vivo en France, n'est-ce pas?
Elle s'est faite plaisir sur certains tempos... Pas toujours avec bonheur !
😄👏👏👏👍🙏🌷💐
Where can I WATCH this performance?
I would I like to do the same Mance!
im ngl I always thought Gymnopédie n°1 was something cooked up for Studio Ghibli, didn't know its been a classic for ages
Ох...
Ah, Vuitton!!!!!!!! Great!!!!!! Expensive!!!! Very classy….like Satie…hahahaha!
これすごくいいけど、CD化はされてないみたいなんですねえ、残念😥
Alexander Boot
Writer, critic, polemicist
Sex sells - all of us short
The other day I listened to something or other on TH-cam, and a link to Chopin’s Fourth Ballade performed by the Georgian pianist Khatia Buniatishvili came up.
The link was accompanied by a close-up publicity photo of the musician: sloe bedroom eyes, sensual semi-open lips suggesting a delight that’s still illegal in Alabama, naked shoulders hinting at the similarly nude rest of her body regrettably out of shot…
Let me see where my wife is… Good, she isn’t looking over my shoulder, so I can admit to you that the picture got me excited in ways one doesn’t normally associate with Chopin’s Fourth Ballade or for that matter any other classical composition this side of Wagner or perhaps Ravel’s Bolero.
Searching for a more traditional musical rapture I clicked on the actual clip and alas found it anticlimactic, as it were. Khatia’s playing, though competent, is as undeniably so-what as her voluptuous figure undeniably isn’t. (Yes, I know the photograph I mentioned doesn’t show much of her figure apart from the luscious shoulders but, the prurient side of my nature piqued, I did a bit of a web crawl.)
Just for the hell of it I looked at the publicity shots of other currently active female musicians, such as Yuja Wang, Joanna MacGregor, Nicola Bendetti, Alison Balsom (nicknamed ‘crumpet with a trumpet’, her promos more often suggest ‘a strumpet with a trumpet’ instead), Anne-Sophie Mutter and a few others.
They didn’t disappoint the Peeping Tom lurking under my aging surface. Just about all the photographs showed the ladies in various stages of undress, in bed, lying in suggestive poses on top of the piano, playing in frocks (if any) open to the coccyx in the back and/or to the navel up front.
This is one thing these musicians have in common. The other is that none of them is all that good at her day job and some, such as Wang, are truly awful. Yet this doesn’t really matter either to them or to the public or, most important, to those who form the public tastes by writing about music and musicians.
Thus, for example, a tabloid pundit expressing his heartfelt regret that Nicola Benedetti “won’t be posing for the lads’ mags anytime soon. Pity, because she looks fit as a fiddle…” Geddit? She’s a violinist, which is to say fiddler - well, you do get it.
“But Nicola doesn’t always take the bonniest photo,” continues the writer, “she’s beaky in pics sometimes, which is weird because in the flesh she’s an absolute knock-out.
“The classical musician is wearing skinny jeans which show off her long legs. She’s also busty with a washboard flat tummy, tottering around 5ft 10in in her Dune platform wedges.”
How well does she play the violin though? No one cares. Not even critics writing for our broadsheets, who don’t mind talking about musicians in terms normally reserved for pole dancers. Thus for instance runs a review of a piano recital at Queen Elizabeth Hall, one of London’s top concert venues:
“She is the most photogenic of players: young, pretty, bare-footed; and, with her long dark hair and exquisite strapless dress of dazzling white, not only seemed to imply that sexuality itself can make you a profound musician, but was a perfect visual complement to the sleek monochrome of a concert grand… [but] there’s more to her than meets the eye.”
The male reader is clearly expected to get a stiffie trying to imagine what that might be. To help his imagination along, the piece is accompanied by a photo of the young lady in question reclining on her instrument in a pre-coital position with an unmistakable ‘come and get it’ expression on her face. The ‘monochrome’ piano is actually bright-red, a colour usually found not in concert halls but in dens of iniquity.
Nowhere does the review mention the fact obvious to anyone with any taste for musical performance: the girl is so bad that she should indeed be playing in a brothel, rather than on the concert platform.
Can you, in the wildest flight of fancy, imagine a reviewer talking in such terms about sublime women artists of the past, such as Myra Hess, Maria Yudina, Maria Grinberg, Clara Haskil, Marcelle Meyer, Marguerite Long, Kathleen Ferrier? Can you see any of them allowing themselves to be photographed in the style of “lads’ mags”?
I can’t, which raises the inevitable question: what exactly has changed in the last say 70 years? The short answer is, just about everything. Concert organisers and impresarios, who used to be in the business because they loved music first and wanted to make a living second, now care about nothing but money. Critics, who used to have discernment and taste, now have nothing but greed and lust for popularity. The public… well, don’t get me started on that. The circle is vicious: because tasteless ignoramuses use every available medium to build up musical nonentities, nonentities is all we get. And because the musical nonentities have no artistic qualities to write about, the writing nonentities have to concentrate on the more jutting attractions, using a vocabulary typically found in “lads’ mags”. The adage “sex sells” used to be applied first to B-movies, then to B-novels, and now to real music. From “sex sells” it’s but a short distance to “only sex sells”. This distance has already been travelled - and we are all being sold short.
Sì,
ti sto pensando
né morto né vivo,
nel disinganno
intreccio di voci.
Torno a morire
ogni volta
sul tuo viso,
torno sempre lì 🌿
da Notte di quattro lune
Poesie d'amore
Edizioni Polistampa
DID YOU LIKE, LOVE, MY LAST
PERFORMANCE ?
YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE UTOPIA.
I LOVE YOU !