Video yรผkleniyor...

Video Yรผklenemedi

๐“๐œ๐ก๐š๐ข๐ค๐จ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ค๐ฒ ๐•๐ข๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง ๐‚๐จ๐ง๐œ๐ž๐ซ๐ญ๐จ ๐ข๐ง ๐ƒ ๐Œ๐š๐ฃ๐จ๐ซ, ๐Ž๐ฉ. ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ“ Written in 1878, Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto is one of the greatest works ever written for the instrument. But did you know that the most important music critic at the time, Eduard Hanslick, described it as โ€œmusic that stinks to the earโ€?...

79,421 gรถrรผntรผleme โ€ข 1 yฤฑl รถnce โ€ขvia X (Twitter)

5 Yorum

Love Music ๐ŸŽถ & Dance ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿ•บ profil fotoฤŸrafฤฑ
Love Music ๐ŸŽถ & Dance ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿ•บ1 yฤฑl รถnce

It's here! Unveil the trailer for Shen Yun all-new 2025 performances. Mark your calendars and book your tickets now: Watch More:

Solar Heavy profil fotoฤŸrafฤฑ
Solar Heavy1 yฤฑl รถnce

Instrumental Music is the best

JBNW profil fotoฤŸrafฤฑ
JBNW1 yฤฑl รถnce

A favorite - and I still like the early review which said the "violin was beaten black and blue."

Ausente. profil fotoฤŸrafฤฑ
Ausente.1 yฤฑl รถnce

My sweet Piotr Illich.

zozo profil fotoฤŸrafฤฑ
zozo1 yฤฑl รถnce

๐ŸŽถโค๏ธ๐ŸŽถ

Benzer Videolar

Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major, K. 218 (Second Movement โ€“ Andante cantabile): When Every Voice is Allowed to be Itself The Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major, K. 218 is one of five violin concertos composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in 1775, when he was only nineteen years old. Though written in the early years of his career, the work already reveals the mature Mozartian voice: a perfect equilibrium between melodic beauty, crystalline clarity of structure, and an almost effortless art of dialogue between soloist and orchestra. The second movement, Andante cantabile, has long been regarded as one of the most exquisitely lyrical pages Mozart ever wrote for the violin. In this recording, the work is performed by the French violinist Zino Francescatti. With his pure, singing tone, refined technique, and an interpretative approach that always places the music above personal display, Francescatti proves ideally suited to Mozartโ€™s artistic world โ€” a realm in which beauty arises not from ostentation, but from the natural flowering of every musical line. What makes this movement truly exceptional is not merely the loveliness of its violin melodies โ€” Mozart wrote many such melodies. Its enduring power lies in the way Mozart creates a musical universe in which no single voice needs to overpower another. The solo violin remains the central presence, yet the orchestra never degenerates into mere accompaniment. Each element retains its own character while contributing to a greater harmonious whole. To understand why this *Andante cantabile* continues to move listeners more than two centuries later, one must begin with this very relationship. The first impression is not created by the solo violin. It is the atmosphere established by the orchestra that captivates from the very opening bars. There is no grand rhetorical introduction, no imposing chords. Mozart allows the orchestra to unfold with gentle, balanced, and luminous phrases. The harmony moves with serene deliberation, the rhythm free of any sense of strain. Within a few bars, the listener is drawn into a tranquil musical space where every motion feels natural and unforced. Only once this world has been gently established does the violin enter. It does not appear as a protagonist stepping onto the stage to command attention. Rather, it emerges as a voice that already belongs to this space. Its melody flows with perfect naturalness from the orchestral texture, without any sense of opposition or conquest. The violin does not strive to rise above the orchestra; it simply continues and expands what the ensemble has already begun. Throughout the movement, Mozart sustains this delicate balance. At times the violin sings long, flowing cantilenas while the orchestra offers the simplest and most tender harmonic support. At other moments, the woodwinds engage in gentle dialogue with the soloist, adding new colours without ever interrupting the melodic line. Even in the more ornate passages, one never feels that the soloist has detached from the whole. Every flourish remains an organic part of the same musical breath. Remarkably, Mozart avoids stark contrasts in this movement. There are no explosive climaxes, no violent conflicts demanding resolution. Instead, each musical idea leads gracefully into the next, with transitions so subtle that the listener scarcely notices them. The entire movement feels like a living organism breathing โ€” every motion connected to the next in perfect organic unity. By the close, the listener does not experience a triumphant conclusion or a dramatic release of tension. What remains is akin to the surface of a lake after the ripples have gently subsided: everything returns to its natural state of equilibrium, yet, having passed through this journey, the final serenity feels infinitely deeper and more profound. Thus, the listenerโ€™s experience gradually transforms. At first, one is captivated by the beauty of the violin itself โ€” its crystalline tone, the exquisite smoothness of its phrasing, and the characteristic Mozartean elegance. Yet the more attentively one listens, the more the centre of perception shifts. One begins to realise that the true beauty does not reside in the violin alone. What lingers is the profound sense that every voice in the orchestra is permitted to exist according to its own nature. The violin does not dominate by overpowering the ensemble, nor does the orchestra diminish itself to serve the soloist. Each part speaks with just measure, and precisely because every element remains true to itself, the whole achieves an extraordinary harmony. At that moment, the listener ceases to hear individual instruments. What one perceives is no longer โ€œthe violinโ€ or โ€œthe orchestraโ€, but the presence of a single living entity in which every constituent part is allowed to be fully itself โ€” and it is this very authenticity that creates the workโ€™s profound beauty. The principle revealed in this music extends far beyond the realm of art; it is one that resonates deeply in human life itself. We often suppose that for a community to be strong, its members must be alike, think alike, and act in the same manner. Yet the most enduring communities are rarely built upon such uniformity. In a family, father, mother, and children do not fulfil identical roles. Each loves in their own way, bears different responsibilities, and contributes according to their distinct abilities. It is precisely this diversity that makes the family whole. A hospital functions upon the same principle. The physician diagnoses and treats, the nurse tends to the patient, the technician performs the tests, and the support staff ensure the smooth running of the institution. No one can fully replace another, yet it is through each personโ€™s faithful fulfilment of their own role that the entire system flourishes. Even a wise leader does not attempt to do everything himself. His true gift lies in creating an environment where each individual can realise their highest potential while working towards a common purpose. What lends lasting strength to such wholes is not uniformity, but the ability of each part to preserve its own character while contributing to a greater harmonious order. One finds this same principle throughout the natural world. A forest does not thrive through mighty trees alone. Among the great oaks stand saplings, climbing vines, wild grasses, fungi, birds, insects, and countless smaller creatures โ€” each with its own manner of being and its own role within the ecosystem. It is this very diversity that sustains the vitality of the whole. A river is not formed merely by flowing water. It consists of the riverbed, the banks, the meanders, the silt, and the myriad living things that inhabit it. Each element retains its distinct nature, yet together they create a single, unified flow. Even the human body is constituted according to this law. The heart cannot replace the lungs, the eyes cannot perform the work of the ears, nor can the brain take the place of the hands. Each organ fulfils its own function while remaining in constant relation to the entire body, thereby sustaining life. The more closely one observes Nature, the more clearly one sees that true harmony is not achieved by making everything the same. On the contrary, it is when each element is allowed to develop according to its own essential nature that the greater whole attains balance and enduring vitality. Such is the profound truth one experiences when listening with an open heart to the Andante cantabile of Mozartโ€™s Violin Concerto No. 4 in D major.

๐—–๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜€๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐—น ๐— ๐—ฒ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ฑ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜€

13,580 gรถrรผntรผleme โ€ข 29 gรผn รถnce

Eruption- Van Halen- Eddie Van Halen Guitar Solo- Electric Violin Cover by Nina D Ninaโ€™s Notes ๐ŸŽถ: This was by far the hardest thing Iโ€™ve learned thus far on electric violin in the rock genre. This is the solo of all solos. While there is no shortage of covers and tutorials on the internet for a guitarist who wants to learn it, when I went to learn it, almost nothing of the sort existed for violin. There were a few covers out there on acoustic violin that are great- but anyone who knows me, knows I wanted to try and sound as authentic to Eddie as possible, on violin. There were many steps to this process, the biggest being learning how to finger tap on a violin. It was a long process of trial/error and practice to achieve the effect chain and technique. Some FAQ: 1.) It is a 7-string violin, not a chin guitar. If you donโ€™t understand why, ask me a question! I will gladly answer. (But donโ€™t state something as fact you have no experience in). I am a classically trained violinist who also plays electric violin, guitar, bass, and piano. I am qualified to answer your questions. 2.) Itโ€™s not easier to play on a violin. (Violin is never the โ€œeasyโ€ instrument). 3.) Yes, I write my own music, but that has no bearing at all on being an instrumentalist. The best virtuoso instrumentalists in the word mostly do not write music because they practice all the time- to be the best they can be at their instrument. (Touring soloists, session players, hired guns for A-listers). 4.) No, Iโ€™m not miming to Eddie. You can come see this live on my tour dates with Femmes of Rock. You can also find live videos of this on YouTube. Special thanks to my team on the music video: Audio Mixing/programming, Drone footage and video editing, Fog jets and laser programming: Brody Dolyniuk Filming: Patrick Rivera Photography Lighting: Robert Brassard Custom Made Eddie Van Halen Outfit: 3x Emmy-nominated costume designer Diana Eden Hair and Makeup: the MOBB Group Graphics/Animation: Derryl Rice

Nina DiGregorio

262,577 gรถrรผntรผleme โ€ข 1 yฤฑl รถnce

The first movement of Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64 is one of Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy's most celebrated works. It is admired for the lyrical, vocal quality of its melodies and the coherence of its structure. Yet the enduring vitality of the movement arises not from these qualities alone, but from the way Mendelssohn shapes the entire work as a continuous process of development, in which each musical idea grows from material already established while simultaneously preparing the way for what follows. It is this organic continuity that gives the movement its distinctive persuasive power. To understand why, one must begin with its most concrete musical details. The first striking feature is Mendelssohn's decision to introduce the solo violin almost immediately, rather than reserving an extended orchestral introduction in the manner of the Classical concerto tradition. The violin enters at once with the principal theme, unfolding a melody that is long, supple and unmistakably song-like. From the opening bars, the listener does not feel as though the narrative is waiting to begin; rather, one is drawn into a musical process that already seems to be in motion. This manner of opening establishes a sense of continuity from the very outset and defines the character of the movement as a whole. The violin's melodic writing is built chiefly from stepwise motion interspersed with moderate leaps. Instead of presenting isolated musical gestures, Mendelssohn shapes his phrases into long, flowing arcs, each seeming to arise naturally from the one before it. As one motif reaches its conclusion, its closing notes frequently become the point of departure for the next. The ear therefore seldom perceives the music as a sequence of detached units, but rather as a single line of development unfolding from within itself. Equally significant is Mendelssohn's treatment of his musical motifs. He rarely introduces an entirely new idea only to abandon the old. Instead, previously stated motifs are continually transformed through changes of pitch, rhythm, expression or harmonic setting. When a familiar motif returns in a new guise, the listener immediately recognises its relationship to what has already been heard while simultaneously perceiving its transformation. It is this union of familiarity and renewal that allows the music to develop without ever seeming fragmented. Rhythm likewise plays an essential part in sustaining this continuous movement. Between the violin's expansive lyrical phrases appear short, flexible rhythmic figures that provide constant forward impetus. These patterns, however, never unfold at random. They are frequently repeated with subtle adjustments of accent or metrical emphasis, sufficient to maintain momentum while preserving a sense of unity. The listener therefore experiences an unbroken impulse of progression without any impression that the musical thread has been interrupted. At a deeper level, it is the harmony that gives the entire process a clear sense of direction. Mendelssohn creates moments of tension through passing harmonies, non-chord tones and carefully judged modulations into closely related keys. Yet each expansion is meticulously prepared and ultimately resolved back to stable tonal centres. The ear continually rediscovers its tonal point of reference and thus never loses sight of the broader trajectory of the movement. The orchestra is organised according to the same principle. It serves not merely as accompaniment to the solo violin but frequently receives, echoes and develops the motifs first introduced by the soloist. As musical ideas pass from violin to orchestra and back again, the listener perceives not two independent voices but a single musical thought unfolding through contrasting colours. The dialogue between soloist and orchestra therefore creates not opposition but an ever richer expansion of the musical structure while preserving its essential unity. As the movement unfolds, the listener is drawn not only to the beauty of its melodies but also to the relationships between them. Each idea leads naturally to the next, so that the entire movement appears as an organic whole in continual expansion rather than a succession of isolated episodes. Its persuasive power lies not in any single memorable passage, but in the coherence of the process as a whole. At a deeper level, the first movement embodies not merely a principle of musical composition but a broader principle of living systems. The work is constructed as a process in which no element exists in isolation. Each motif inherits material from its predecessor, is transformed into a new form, and in turn becomes the foundation for subsequent development. It is precisely this uninterrupted sequence of inheritance and transformation that gives the music its vitality. The same principle may be observed in the workings of the natural world. Life is sustained not by isolated parts but by continuous cycles of exchange and mutual support. The human body functions in this manner. Oxygen passes from the lungs into the bloodstream; the blood carries it to every cell where energy is produced, before returning the products of metabolism to continue the cycle. Each stage depends upon the one before it while simultaneously preparing the conditions for the next. No single link exists solely for itself; each both receives from and contributes to the others. Should one essential link in this cycle be broken, the entire system gradually loses its capacity to sustain itself. Life endures not because its individual parts exist independently, but because an unbroken cycle binds them together into a unified whole. The first movement of the concerto is organised according to a comparable principle. Melodies do not simply appear and disappear; they become the material from which subsequent motifs are fashioned. These motifs are reshaped through new rhythmic and harmonic contexts before being taken up, expanded and returned by the orchestra to the solo violin. No idea is detached from the larger process. Every element receives material from what precedes it while preparing the conditions for what follows. Through this continual exchange, inheritance and transformation, Mendelssohn creates a musical cycle in which each idea both nourishes and is nourished by the others. It is perhaps because the movement reflects such a principle that it possesses so natural and compelling a character. Its beauty resides not merely in individual melodies or episodes of development, but in the way every musical element remains connected within a continuous cycle of motion, where each part both receives from and supports the rest, preserving the unity of the whole. This is the deepest source of the first movement's enduring power. Mendelssohn does not assemble a succession of disconnected ideas; he creates a living organism in which every musical element continually inherits, transforms and sustains the others. It is this unbroken cycle that has endowed the concerto with its lasting vitality and enabled it to continue moving listeners across generations.

๐—–๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜€๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ๐—น ๐— ๐—ฒ๐—น๐—ผ๐—ฑ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜€

12,733 gรถrรผntรผleme โ€ข 1 ay รถnce