We will return to The Usual Stuff tomorrow. But first, I want to write about an unforgettable experience I had a few days ago. We spent a long weekend in Montreal, with a concert of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra as the main event. It was a marathon affair; the opening piece wasn’t a suite or an overture, but Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony, a work of considerable heft. Then, after intermission, came the most intense experience I think I’ve ever had in a concert hall: Dmitri Shostakovich’s massive Seventh Symphony.

It was amazing, exhausting, and uplifting. If you want it in one word, Wow.

The work itself is a masterpiece. The story behind it is equally compelling. It was, and I’m not overstating things, a blow against fascism that reverberated around the world.

Shostakovich was a native of Leningrad, formerly and currently St. Petersburg. When Germany invaded the Soviet Union, it encircled the city and enforced a siege that lasted nearly three years and killed almost half the city’s population, mainly by starvation. It was one of the most monstrous acts of a truly monstrous regime.

The composer was living in Leningrad, starving alongside his fellows, working on relief efforts, and doing what he did best: expressing himself in music. He had a lot to express, and he needed a mega-platform to encompass it all. The Seventh requires a massive, oversized orchestra and takes well over an hour to perform. It’s a feat of endurance for musicians, conductor, and audience alike. But man, was it worth the time and effort.

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