Marceau Mercure Research Paper
To the intellect, music is a worthless entertainment, a selfish art, but to the heart, it is a celestial rhythm, defending against the devil. The young man understood the invaluable worth and emotion of music. He himself, expressed more in his cacophony than the ordinary pianist could in their most harmonious piece. For Lorenzo Pierre was neither a prodigy nor a genius—he was much more. He embodied the quintessence of music, possessing the ability for perfection with untamed creativity and emotion. Nonetheless, Monsieur Pierre could not find the root of fame. He had approached Ravel, who never looked his way; Satie dismissed him as a lunatic; even Chaminade refused his talents. He had played for this man and that man, but it was the man that he needed to play for. It must be Marceau Mercure, France’s and, perhaps, the world’s musical deity.
Inside the …show more content…
With a sweep of his hand, he painted the music into the air. His face revealed an alleviation in leading the instruments—guiding them into prominence and to success in their campaign. From the very first note, Pierre was convinced of Mercure’s ingenuity as a conductor. Nonetheless, the man’s sophisticated artistry, one that had disappeared from other pianists after the Great War, emerged when he coaxed the piano’s first notes out. Marceau’s playing insisted upon a keen observation of every note the pianist pressed, and every tender sound and emotion echoing through Palais du ciel. Of course, the aspect of performance was not to be overlooked. His hands danced across the piano faster than the audience could even think; his face calmed by this moment of peace. Mercure interpreted Chopin’s concerto like no one else. The sonorous melodies that rose from the piano were a sorrowful remembrance of times gone by. What had often been interpreted as a jubilant celebration had been rightly transformed into the regrets of its composer. Even Lorenzo had fallen unconscious under the music’s
Inside the …show more content…
With a sweep of his hand, he painted the music into the air. His face revealed an alleviation in leading the instruments—guiding them into prominence and to success in their campaign. From the very first note, Pierre was convinced of Mercure’s ingenuity as a conductor. Nonetheless, the man’s sophisticated artistry, one that had disappeared from other pianists after the Great War, emerged when he coaxed the piano’s first notes out. Marceau’s playing insisted upon a keen observation of every note the pianist pressed, and every tender sound and emotion echoing through Palais du ciel. Of course, the aspect of performance was not to be overlooked. His hands danced across the piano faster than the audience could even think; his face calmed by this moment of peace. Mercure interpreted Chopin’s concerto like no one else. The sonorous melodies that rose from the piano were a sorrowful remembrance of times gone by. What had often been interpreted as a jubilant celebration had been rightly transformed into the regrets of its composer. Even Lorenzo had fallen unconscious under the music’s