Symphony No. 5 (Beethoven) - Taras Kutsenko (Terry Heimat)

Beethoven on a Cake

As the years roll by, memories, like sea pebbles, are smoothed and polished, and the sharp edges of past experiences become rounded. Many things that once seemed serious or even beyond the ordinary take on a completely different hue. Humor emerges – not malicious, but rather good-natured, allowing us to look back at the past with a warm smile. This very ability of time to shed new light on events is reflected in the apt, though somewhat absurd, phrase: "Beethoven on a cake." It remarkably precisely describes how the majestic and classic can be placed in an unexpected, sometimes even whimsical, context, and years later become a source of lighthearted humor.

I had the opportunity to experience something similar in 2019 in China. Our orchestra was preparing to perform a section of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony – one of the pillars of classical music, a symbol of drama and grandeur. However, the performance venue was, to put it mildly, unusual. We worked in a hall where the stage was designed to rotate, much like an arena in a theater. The audience had the chance to observe each musician, each instrument, thanks to the slow but steady movement of the platform. It was, without a doubt, an original experience.

Imagine: solemn chords, the power of Beethoven's thought, a deep immersion in the music – and yet, the sensation of a slight, constant movement beneath our feet. We, the musicians, stood on a rotating "cake," and around us, the scenery and the audience's perspective slowly shifted. At that moment, it was a challenge – to maintain concentration and precision in performance, despite this unfamiliar dynamic environment. There was a sense of surrealism, as if Beethoven himself, whose name is inextricably linked with the fundamental and stationary nature of a traditional concert stage, had become involved in some futuristic performance. Perhaps then we perceived it as an interesting experiment, as part of a touring life full of unusual conditions.

But now, years later, looking back at that Chinese tour, at that rotating hall, this event appears entirely different. The image of "Beethoven on a cake" becomes incredibly fitting. This is not a degradation of great music; on the contrary, it speaks to its astonishing vitality, its ability to organically exist even in the most eccentric settings. The humor here lies in the contrast between the monumentality of the work and the almost circus-like theatricality of its presentation. What comes to mind is not so much the difficulty of adaptation, but rather the amusing absurdity of the situation, which now evokes only a smile and a sense of a unique experience. It was a symphony served not just on a platter, but on a rotating pedestal, which makes this memory not only vivid but also filled with light, good-natured humor.

Time possesses a remarkable quality of reinterpretation. It allows us to distance ourselves from the moment, shed the emotional overlay, and see in the past not only challenges or achievements, but also amusing facets. Thus, the "Beethoven on a cake" from China in 2019 has become a symbol of how even the most serious or strange events of our lives, filtered through time, can transform into valuable, and most importantly – humorous memories.