The first piece of classical music I really fell in love with was Beethoven’s Pastorale symphany. It’s his sixth symphony, which means it is right after his famous Fifth, and squarely between his his revolutionary Third and Ninth symphonies. I’ll readily admit now that I do, in many ways, prefer other Beethoven symphonies to his Sixth, but listening to it brings out the child in me.
I discovered the Sixth from a friend of my mothers, who, learning that I was showing interest at the age of eleven in classical music, brought me a couple of cassettes.
At this German site you can pick up the openings of each movement.
One was a Shostakovich piece, and the other was Beethoven’s Symphony No. Six.
Shostakovich didn’t grab my young years, but Beethoven had my full attention.
I’ve since tried to find the Shostakovich again. I was convinced it was an odd-numbered symphony, but after having bought so many Shostakovich odd-numbered symphonies, I’m now not sure. It began with a roaming, lonely bassoon solo. Any ideas? And no, I’m not confusing it with the opening of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring.
Once, while living in Poland the first time, I had a sleepless few nights thanks to a strange atmospheric phenomenon of the area (perhaps more on that later) and general stress. It was the final, peaceful movement of Beethoven’s Sixth that finally put me to sleep.
Since falling in love with Ludwig’s Sixth, I found others that I ultimately preferred. The first movement of his Third is one of the most dynamic openings I know for a symphony, and of course his entire Ninth is, well, Beethoven’s Ninth.
But his Sixth always ensures a smile and a peaceful evening.