Time has stopped. My hands are warm and they’re getting warmer. Alexey Kleptsin is conjuring his singers and beginning to control my breath; my lungs start to breathe in sync with his hands and lips. Here they are singing something extraordinarily beautiful… It’s so beautiful that my legs start to tremble. I literally do not understand a single word, but I feel my whole essence being conquered by their art. My pain and fatigue are sliding down my legs, feeling like a steel chain falling down from my chest. I want to breathe, to breathe deep, like never before. Looking at them, I would like to become a saint, to become a star, to embrace the entire world, to stop suffering and to put all the things in my head into proper perspective. Their voices and the hands of their conductor do not leave me even for a second; they are carrying me away into the world of harmony and perfection. Now they are singing “Suliko” and I am being moved to the mountains; I can feel that air and see those rivers. I wonder about the source from which they get so many colors to create such a magnificent and vivid landscape. I don’t even dare to look around for fear of disturbing the peace of those near me with bated breath, as they are also somewhere far away now, in the world of dreams and reveries. I am afraid to scare away their bliss. These are the musicians who are going to see the whole world, and the world will certainly hear them. Their music is the whole world itself with its destinies. It feels like they are powerful over everything. In this professional team, which Prague can be proud of, there are many sounds: the incredible beauty and height of the tenor; the juicy, sexy baritones; and the deepest bass, all of which are capable of reflecting the crystallinity and severity of the classics, the enthusiasm and breadth of Russian song, the rumble and drive of rock, and the rhythm, pulse, and swing of jazz. When Kleptsin himself composes music, he imagines the eyes of billions of people who reflect the light of his simple and pure soul. Just listen to his music performed by the Prague Male Chamber Choir. The songs come to him not only in dreams, or in the overflow of water and the rustling of leaves, but also in the noise of the engine and the humming of factory pipes. They are full of extraordinary depth and compassion, but the most importantly – of consolation. His soul is burned by God, both literally and figuratively. And we only have to modestly observe how his hand is being led.