http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AvRfs8IK_s
Rachmaninov created this extraordinary concerto being under therapy.
Actually, his name should be pronounced “Rahmaninov”, Серге́й Васи́льевич Рахма́нинов. I still keep
at home the special recording with his performance, a gift for my 20-th birthday.
My preference for this Russian genius is well known among my friends, but the story of how the
recording came to me is worth telling:
My first year in the University, surprisingly for everyone, was dedicated to the Psychology studies. Apart from the basics, like Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung,
I enjoyed the first touch with some not that popular, though quite relevant scientists
like Eric Berne or Sergei Rubinstein. The accumulated knowledge during that remote
year helped me later in my life-path, and still does I must admit, when I
have to tackle with surreal or openly "up to the edge" human reactions.
Simultaneously to my psych studies, I was preparing my DALF exam. One of the
guys in our group happened to be a specialized in hard cases psyquiatrist. For
his young age he had seen enough in order to decide to "emigrate" to a
remote mountain village and return to the capital just to attend French
classes. Another peculiar personality was an extremely beautiful girl from
Russian aristocratic family, her grandparents had escaped to Bulgaria after the Revolution in 1917. She was wearing a golden Rolex
with the portrait of Kaddafi engraved and was decided to marry a
French aristocrat.
So, we formed a ferocious trio - the Blond, the Brunette and the Psych-doctor.
Quite bizarre to watch and even worse listening:
"Are the psychiatric diseases contagious?" (Positive, according to
Jung, BTW); "How an eventual psych-condition would influence the talent
exposure of a genius and its relation to the classical music?” or "The
Russian poetry and the French political life in the XX century". The psych
doctor was in love with the Polish pianist Wanda Landowska. For those not so
enlightened musically, she used to perform Bach in original on clavichords.
Already dead, of course. Landowska, I mean. Look, even Kaddafi is already dead!
The Blond, who finally married a French count, should keep the Rolex in her memorabilia.
To make the long story short, my birthday came exactly a week before the
exams, and my two peculiar friends showed up with their gifts - the Kaddafi’s
Green Book (must admit, I lost it!) and
the original Rachmaninov recording, with the composer playing his own Concerto
N2, dedicated to his therapist. Several years later in Paris, in equally
bizarre circumstances, I met the late Bob Marley psych, and oh, wonder! some of
his famous songs were also dedicated to his doctor. Seems to be a pattern among
the musicians!
What I am trying to say, though not so eloquently, is that Rachmaninov’ music
has accompanied me all along my life, like my personal therapy, in happiness and grief. As a red line in a novel, that jumps from the remote morning of my
floating serenity in a suite facing the Geneva Lake (Symphony N2) to the
afternoon a month ago, when I realized my beloved Grandma was gone (Symphony N3).
Today, looking at myself at the mirror, I still
see the person that lives her life with eyes wide open. With no sorrow and no
regrets. It’s not a bad account, after all. Being still alive, not only literally speaking…
