Air, water, clay and breath of fire measured balance perfectly here!
Musicians and Chief Bruckner read us like never before.
Here no redundant thunderous brass, wood catch fire, timpani for galley pace of silent film, one never loses the violin lines, messengers or tempi that breathe here all the space music .
Here we are in the middle of poetry, poetry that moves the body, which moves hearts, far from bazaar spiritualities or music for battlefield cardboard paste.
Ballot is a poet, who met another poet, Bruckner.
Bruckner can rest for eternity.
It's beautiful!
