Brahms

And then there was Brahms. In summer mood, drunk on the Rhine and flirtation. Probably kept on the edge of tipsiness by a little Reisling. It's hard to not to drink Reisling in the Rheingau , the small wine-growing region that Brahms visited in the summer of 1883. The composer had gone there to follow a young, vivacious singer who had caught his eye earlier that year: Hermine Spies. My 'Rhinemaiden', Brahms called Hermine, who in return described herself as being in a 'Johannes Passion' (a pleasing, if unintentional link back to the Bach Prom post). Their romance came to nothing, but throughout that summer Brahms worked on his Third Symphony. And after I visited the Rheingau this summer, hearing the Berlin Philharmonic play the piece conjured up nothing more strongly than the river itself. The waves; the surge and repose, its eddys and currents running through the strings and wind, emphasised by the synchronised sway of the orchestra's players. I've never seen so many musicians moving at once, and moving together. Like waves making up a river.