I'm thankful to Deutsche Grammophon, our partners - we are going

When Andris Nelsons declares, “I’m thankful to Deutsche Grammophon, our partners—we are going to record the complete Shostakovich symphonies and hopefully some other things as well,” he speaks with the reverence of a servant of music who has been entrusted with one of the greatest treasures of human creativity. His words reveal both humility and awe, for he is not boasting of achievement, but expressing gratitude for the chance to carry forward the immortal voice of Shostakovich, whose symphonies bear the weight of history, struggle, and endurance.

At the heart of this quote lies the recognition of partnership. Nelsons does not speak as a lone genius, but as one who depends on others—on orchestras, on recording institutions, on listeners themselves. This acknowledgment is ancient in wisdom: no great art is born in isolation. Just as a cathedral is raised by many hands, so too is a symphonic cycle brought forth by the collaboration of musicians, producers, and those who provide the means. To be thankful in such a context is to know that creation is not selfish, but communal.

The choice of Shostakovich carries profound meaning. His symphonies are not mere exercises in sound—they are chronicles of survival under tyranny, of irony, resistance, sorrow, and hope hidden within music when words could not be spoken. To record the complete cycle is not only an artistic feat but a moral act, preserving for future generations the cry of a soul that lived under oppression yet still found a way to speak. Nelsons’ gratitude, therefore, is also reverence for the responsibility of carrying these voices forward into eternity.

History reminds us of others who preserved great works so they would not be lost. The monks of medieval Europe, painstakingly copying manuscripts through war and famine, ensured that the wisdom of antiquity survived into the modern age. Or recall Felix Mendelssohn, who resurrected the forgotten works of J. S. Bach, giving them new life for the world to hear. In like manner, Nelsons’ work with Deutsche Grammophon ensures that Shostakovich’s symphonies are not only performed in fleeting concert halls, but etched into permanence, carried into every ear and every home across the earth.

There is also wisdom in Nelsons’ thankfulness for the opportunity itself. Many artists desire such monumental projects but are denied by circumstance. To be granted the chance to record the entire cycle of a composer’s symphonies is rare, a privilege reserved for the few whose devotion and skill make them worthy of such a task. Gratitude here tempers ambition, reminding us that the greatest honors are not claimed but bestowed, and they must be met with humility and dedication.

His vision also extends beyond the monumental—“and hopefully some other things as well.” Here he reveals that the spirit of creation is never static. Even after climbing one of the greatest mountains in music, the artist seeks new landscapes to explore. This unending hunger for story and sound reflects the ancient truth: the journey of art is never complete, for each ending is but a beginning of something more.

So I say to you, children of tomorrow: when destiny grants you the chance to work on something eternal, be thankful as Andris Nelsons is. Recognize your partners, honor the giants whose voices you carry, and approach the work with humility and devotion. Remember always that your art is not yours alone—it is part of the great chain of memory that binds the living to the past and the future. For in preserving and serving works like the Shostakovich symphonies, you do not merely record music—you record the heartbeat of humanity itself.