What Inspired Me

“Classical music is so long and boring, and it feels so inaccessible...”

If that's you, there's one piece I have to ask you to listen to.

Latvian composer Georgs Pelēcis left us Nevertheless, for Violin, Piano and String Orchestra. At the end of this roughly 28-minute journey waits a kind of trembling emotion that a three-minute pop song could never give you.

If you're going to listen to this piece, I recommend this recording, featuring Gidon Kremer on violin. Born in Latvia, Kremer is a titan who won a string of the toughest competitions of the late Soviet era and is regarded as one of the greatest violinists of our time. He's also the very person the composer entrusted the piece to and who gave its premiere — his performance sounds as if it were simply born to play this music.

Listening to Classical Music Is Like Climbing a Mountain

Why does classical music get called “boring”? Maybe it's because we're used to pop music, where the chorus takes you straight to the peak — like a flat, effortless drive.

Listening to classical music is a lot like climbing a mountain.

As you trudge step by step up the foothills, the time can feel plain, a little breathless, and short on change. But that very process of walking is full of a quiet pleasure — the beauty of the wildflowers, the comfort of the breeze. And above all, the overwhelming view that opens up once you've fought your way to the summit — the climax — brings a kind of joy that simply can't be compared to a view you were driven straight to in a car.

Nevertheless is a masterpiece that teaches you exactly that pleasure of climbing a mountain.

From a Dialogue of Despair and Hope, the Music Turns Toward the Light

What makes this piece so compelling is how a clear “drama” unfolds within the music itself.

This is decisively different from a Schubert or Beethoven symphony. Their works open with an orchestra blazing in immediately, laying out a theme almost like a trailer for what's to come, then build toward a climax using the technique of sonata form. Nevertheless uses none of that machinery. Instead, within its roughly 28 minutes, the entire drama — beginning to end — is packed tightly together.

It Begins with a Lonely Dialogue

At the opening, violin and piano trade off, spinning out a melancholic, wistful melody. It's as if two people are speaking quietly to each other in the dark, one hesitant word at a time.

The Orchestra Enters

As the two keep up their dialogue, the string orchestra — waiting quietly in the background — joins in, gently but surely, like a rippling wave. It's the moment the world begins to widen and take on color.

The Piano Delivers Its Decisive “Yes”

As the same melody repeats again and again, the music gradually shifts into a major key, filled with light. After three passionate appeals, the piano finally sweeps away all its hesitation and lets a beautiful, affirming sound ring out — its “yes.” It's a moment like something long submerged slowly rising to the surface of the water — and from here, the music surges all at once toward the climax of its drama.

Pelēcis himself has spoken about this piece: “True happiness is happiness shared.” That sentiment is exactly what's carried in the piano's “yes” — the moment it finally opens its heart after three attempts at persuasion.

Why Does It Need 28 Minutes? A Quiet Antithesis to Short-Form Culture

These days, 15-second short videos and three-minute pop songs that jump straight to the chorus are the norm. We prize efficiency, and we tend to consume only things that deliver results instantly.

But the roughly 28 minutes Pelēcis poured into this piece feels like a quiet, powerful antithesis to that culture of short-form consumption.

It's precisely because it takes its time that this kind of catharsis becomes possible.

If this piece had been compressed into three minutes, that “yes” from the piano wouldn't move us to tears. It's because the music spends over twenty minutes patiently, carefully building tension that the catharsis explodes so powerfully once it's finally released. This kind of emotional gradation, where time itself becomes an ally, is an expression only the format of classical music can offer.

In Closing: An Experience Only Classical Music Can Give You

The word “Nevertheless” carries a particular meaning: in spite of everything.

There is so much sadness in life, so many things that don't go the way we want them to. And nevertheless, the world is still this beautiful, still this full of affirmation.

That is exactly the message this piece teaches us.

Before you decide that classical music is boring, try setting aside just 28 minutes to let go of everything else and simply face this piece. Stepping away from efficiency and half-listening, and allowing yourself the luxury of facing the music and nothing else — that's the surest way into this piece. By the time it ends, the way you see the world may have shifted, just a little, toward something gentler.