Heading to Shibuya with Ai-chan driving.
I listened to Prokofiev's "Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 16".
To put it bluntly, it was a piece with which I was not familiar at all.
The transcendent piano performance seemed to me to be playing dissonant tones.
(The red pocket square in the chest pocket of the person playing the cymbals was remarkably stylish. I find my eyes drawn to irrelevant things…)
In the end, I discovered that while I can relate to Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev is,
somewhat difficult for me to understand.
Was it the agony of 20th-century composers? It was very cryptic!
(To a novice like me, though it's cryptic, it seems like I can hear a voice saying,
"It's pleasant because it's different from Tchaikovsky.")
I was most relieved when he, the pianist from Uzbekistan, played the encore.
"Tchaikovsky's Children's Album, Op. 39,
No. 18 'Neapolitan Song' in E flat major
My heart seemed to cool down…
Ai-chan, it's drizzling again today, let's drive home safely.