Franz Schubert
Sinfonia No.9

I am bored by those who a priori believe that so-called classical music is by definition more "elevated" than others.
To comfort me in this belief, De André, borrowing from Benedetto Croce, argued that there are no minor or major arts, but rather minor or major artists.
And I, a simple enthusiast, must rely on the measure of emotion to evaluate what is "minor" or "major" for me, even though emotion can also be fueled by the knowledge and deepening of more technical aspects.

It is true that music that has reached us, riding and surpassing the years, passing through countless hands of performers and as many countless ears of listeners, cannot help but be respected at the very least, especially if in its long journey it has managed to retain the grace of moving people so distant from each other.

I am always amazed by the concept that one can be captivated by art forms composed decades or hundreds of years ago... this ultimately means that, despite today's society having little or nothing to do with those of the past, the problems, anxieties, and tensions of man are fundamentally always the same.
And the feelings that come to us from a music that has crossed history are confirmation of this.
An example?: Schubert's Symphony No. 9 in C major.

This is the last symphony composed by Schubert, although sometimes we see it cataloged as the seventh, as it was discovered a few years before the famous "Unfinished". It was written in 1825 during a trip to Syria and probably completed in 1828 (the year of the composer's death). It then mysteriously disappeared until Schumann found the manuscript at Schubert's brother's house in 1839. The first performance took place in the same year under Mendelssohn's direction and it was published in 1840, a year in which Schumann dedicated a memorable article to it, defining its structure as 'of divine length'.
As in other compositions by the author, one is surprised by magnificent melodic ideas like "a pearl between the shells of an oyster" as Massimo Mila will say in his "Short History of Music", adding that in Schubert's music there are "motifs so beautiful and complete that they penetrate the soul with that secret sweetness, with that intimacy that the Germans call Heimlichkeit, meaning secrecy, mystery, tranquility, quietness... motifs of such complete beauty cannot truly be developed: there is nothing to do but repeat them, to once again test that thrill, that poignant regret, that fleeting contact of the soul with the truth of the heart, beyond all reasoning...".
Indeed, this music every time has the power to bring tears to my eyes and make me want to share with someone else the emotions it arouses in me, almost as if they are too many and too intense to bear alone.

And so I invite you to listen to the second movement, the "Andante con moto" and to embark together on the journey of the wanderer (a fundamental image in many other compositions by Schubert). A solitary journey, through barren and uncomfortable land, a journey probably without a destination, as sometimes happens in the journey of life, a journey that nevertheless, every now and then and most often unexpectedly and unintentionally surprises us with emotions that give life to life: like when a girl smiles at you with eyes full of love, like when a glass of wine makes you feel less alone, like when you are entangled in melancholy and a senseless hug unlocks your tears... and like all those moments when you realize that it is you who is consuming life and not it consuming you.

In the end, aren’t these sudden gusts of emotion what keep us afloat and make life worth living? Evidently now as centuries ago.