Once I went to a symphony concert with my dad - oh, years ago now - and they had that on the playlist - and he told me, after, that I wasn't there, I wasn't in that hall, I was... somewhere... yes, oh, yes, sitting there beside him, physically, but leaning forward, rapt, with tears on my face. That second movement - the last minute of the second movement - STILL makes the little hairs on my arms stand up. My mind goes to a still quiet place, where the sky is dark, and the stars are close, and there is something that is magic and mystery, something utterly unknown and yet achingly familiar, calling out to me. Here's part of the reason why (they split the second movement, I have no clue why, so you have to do both in quick succession):
And then, after that, followed by the fourth movement, all brightness and power and beauty, like vows made at the rising of the sun:
If you've ever wanted to know how to paralyse me for a span of half an hour or so, just stop me in my tracks and make me start dreaming - if you've ever wondered what kind of beauty makes me cry - there it is. It's a New World.