How Mozart Was Inspired by His Pet Starling

 by Emily E. Hogstad  October 23rd, 2017

On 27 May 1784, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart bought a pet starling bird at a Viennese pet shop.

Normally historians and musicologists don’t pay much attention to composers’ pets, but this starling wasn’t your average pet. Because when Mozart recorded the thirty-four kreutzer expense in his diary, he also transcribed a melody purportedly sung by his new bird. He included two versions: one that the bird sang (which included an out-of-place G-sharp), and another that was “cleaned up” for insertion into a piece of concert music.

Eagle-eyed (or -eared!) listeners will immediately recognize this as the theme of the finale to Mozart’s seventeenth piano concerto, K453.

Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 17   

Believe it or not, this pet store purchase actually raises some serious musicological questions. Mozart wrote on the score that he completed the work April 12, and he wrote in his expense diary that he bought the concerto-singing bird on May 27. The earliest public performance of the concerto (that we know of, anyway) was by a Mozart student on June 13.

So what came first: the concerto or the birdsong? Historians have offered a number of potential explanations. Perhaps the concerto was actually premiered in late April, when Mozart gave a concert at the prestigious Kärntnertortheater, and the shopkeeper or another customer then taught the theme to the bird. (To a certain extent, starlings can reproduce melodies that they hear.) Maybe Mozart himself hummed and whistled at the bird during the piece’s composition, teaching it the theme for a period of time before he actually bought it. Or maybe Mozart had visited the bird earlier in the spring, been inspired by its song, wrote the concerto, and later came back to buy it. As of today, there is no universal consensus among scholars.

It seems likely that Mozart enjoyed life with his new starling. Despite their modern reputation as invasive pests, starlings are sociable creatures, as well as clever and hardy. Their numbers prove it: a mere 200 released in New York’s Central Park in the 1890s eventually turned into 200 million by the 1980s. It’s easy to imagine the great composer bonding with such a persistent, vivacious, musical pet.

Tragedy struck Mozart’s life three years later. On 28 May 1787, after an illness that had lasted for several months, Wolfgang’s father Leopold died. Their relationship had always been fraught, but Wolfgang was still deeply saddened by his father’s passing. He wrote to a friend, “You can imagine the state I am in.”

Then, a week later his pet starling died. Due to distance, Mozart had been unable to attend his father’s funeral. Perhaps in compensation, he planned an elaborate ceremony for his dead pet. Veiled mourners sang hymns, and Mozart himself recited a poem he wrote. It begins: “A little fool lies here / Whom I held dear – / A starling in the prime / Of his brief time.”

Scholars are divided as to what exactly the starling actually meant to Mozart. Unfortunately, much of Mozart’s correspondence from this era has been lost, so we’re left to guess. Was the bird funeral meant as a genuinely heartfelt tribute to a beloved companion and pet? Was Mozart re-directing feelings he had about his father’s death onto his bird? Or was the whole funeral ritual merely a sarcastic “serio-comic” observance?

Mozart’s next project might offer us a clue. After his father and the starling’s deaths, the first composition that Mozart finished was A Musical Joke, K522. Many elements of this divertimento for two horns and string quartet are odd, including its strange harmonies and clumsy orchestration. Some historians believe that Mozart was parodying poor composers, but one credible theory is that he was actually paying tribute to the “illogical” awkwardness of starling song!  

You can read more about Mozart and his starling in American Scientist’s March-April 1990 issue, available here.

In addition, a book was released by naturalist and author Lyanda Lynn Haupt called Mozart’s Starling. She actually adopted a starling of her own in an attempt to understand Mozart’s relationship with his!

The Great Women Artists Who Shaped Music IX- Marian Anderson

 by Janet Horvath  August 2nd, 2015

Marian Anderson
(1897-1993)
© philipcaruso-story.com/

With regal bearing and a voice of rich intrinsic beauty, contralto Marian Anderson was one of the most celebrated singers of the twentieth century but she had to struggle to overcome racial prejudice that was rampant during the time she was establishing her career. “I had become, whether I like it or not, a symbol, representing my people.” Singing for an audience of 75 thousand in front of the Lincoln Memorial in 1939 and millions more via radio, as she had been denied an appearance in Washington’s Constitution Hall, she said, “Music chose me,” and with that she broke down some of the barriers that had plagued African American performers.  

Marian Anderson’s performance
© www.firstladies.org

Anderson was born in 1887 in Philadelphia. Her father sold ice and coal. When Anderson’s father died suddenly, Marian’s mother, although trained as a schoolteacher, became a house cleaner to support her family of three daughters. The United Baptist Church of Philadelphia was their refuge. Marian’s aunt who was very active in the church choir recognized Marian’s extraordinary gift, and urged her to join the junior choir of the church which offered the six-year-old opportunities to sing. Her aunt arranged for appearances at local events and took her to concerts. Within a few years, Marian’s earnings rose from 25 cents to five dollars per appearance. Still the family had no money for music lessons. The community believing in her outstanding abilities raised the funds for Marian to study.

After attending high school, Anderson naively applied to the Philadelphia Music Academy, (University of the Arts) which was at the time an all-white music school. “We don’t take colored,” said the woman admissions officer. Anderson persevered.

She continued to perform and study privately, winning competitions and even appearing in Carnegie Hall in 1928, but the struggle with racial prejudice was such that it led her to try her luck in Europe. It was a gamble that paid off. Paris had an impartiality that Marian hadn’t encountered before and Scandinavians were very open-minded too. Maestro Arturo Toscanini when he heard her sing remarked, “a voice heard once in a hundred years.” This endorsement opened many doors for the young artist.   

Marian Anderson broke the color barrier at the Metropolitan Opera in 1955 when she starred in Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera.
© Sony Classical Archives

By the 1930’s she was touring extensively welcomed in the grandest salons, restaurants, cafés and concert halls of Europe. In fact, she so mesmerized the audience in Leningrad that the audience stormed the stage, and pounded the stage floor with their fists to express their zeal. Composer Jean Sibelius feeling that Anderson had ‘penetrated the Nordic soul’ rewrote and composed songs for Anderson to perform. Fans were overcome with “Marian fever.”


Anderson’s dignity and sincerity as an artist brought tears to the eyes of her devotees. After a recital in Paris the great American manager Sol Hurok witnessed the effect. He invited Anderson to the U.S. for seven concerts beginning with New York’s Town Hall. Anderson’s rave reviews had preceded her. Everyone flocked to the concert curious to hear what the fuss was about.

Out she came onto the stage with a stunning, elegant presence. Then she opened her mouth.

Her extraordinary voice impressed the critics who called her “one of the great singers of our time.” But many “didn’t want to hear that kind of singing from a Negro,” said Todd Duncan, (George Gershwin’s preferred baritone for Porgy in the first performance of Gershwin’s opera Porgy and Bess, a role he did 1800 times.) African Americans should stick to vaudeville and spirituals not art song, or lieder in foreign tongues!     

American opera singer Marian Anderson performs
on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in
Washington, DC on April 9, 1939.
© Hulton Archive/Getty Images

By this time the political situation in Europe had degenerated. Marian Anderson was not welcome anymore as the Third Reich regime came into power. She was non-Aryan. Anderson continued to pursue her career in the United States performing many concerts and recitals.

But Anderson’s contracts posed issues. Some concert halls didn’t allow black performers. And of those that did, many had segregated seating. Some allowed African American audience members to sit only in the back row; a barrier vertically divided other halls and some halls wouldn’t allow African Americans inside at all. Anderson refused to perform in segregated theaters.

Laws regarding housing and transportation for people of color plagued her wherever she appeared. Every hotel and bus was a problem. Where could she stay? Where could she eat? (Sometimes she’d munch on a sandwich outside.) How could she do laundry? Where could she practice? —All privileges we take for granted today. Due to this appalling discrimination none other than Albert Einstein, who was a great champion of tolerance, hosted Anderson many times. And she? Marian always maintained her dignity making many recordings of diverse repertoire often including American songs and spirituals.People clamored to hear her. Todd Duncan, almost in jest, suggested a large place— Constitution Hall in Washington. After Hurok’s request for a date was turned down repeatedly, news got out. The public was scandalized. The Daughters of the American Revolution who owned the hall had a “white artists only” clause in their contracts. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt came to the rescue. The 1939 Easter Sunday performance would take place at the Lincoln Memorial in front of countless thousands of people. A self-possessed Anderson appeared launching into My Country, ‘Tis of Thee. There was not a dry eye in sight.

Marian Anderson with President John F. Kennedy and Franz Rupp, Marian’s accompanist
© phyllissimsphotography.com

Finally, in 1952 she performed at Constitution Hall and in 1955 she broke the last barrier— the first black performer, American or otherwise to appear at the Metropolitan Opera.


She became the idol and mentor of other greats who followed including Shirley Verett, Leontyne Price and Jesseye Norman, who said, “’This can’t be just a voice, so rich and beautiful.” ‘It was a revelation. And I wept.’”

Anderson was the recipient of numerous awards including the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the Kennedy Center Honors, National Medal of Arts and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award. President Eisenhower selected her as a delegate to the United Nations. But her proudest moment was when she called the department store where her mother furiously scrubbed floors to say, “ My mother won’t be in for work today, or anymore.”

Marian Anderson is truly an inspiring icon whose music transcended all boundaries. For more read her autobiography My Lord What A Morning, and view the documentary below full of mesmerizing interviews and amazing performances— time well spent.

Neil Sedaka has died

 Neil Sedaka, the hit-making singer-songwriter whose boyish soprano and bright melodies made him a top act in the early years of rock ‘n’ roll and led to a second run of success in the 1970s, has died.

READ MORE: https://inqnews.net/neilsedaka

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Carl Czerny (Born on February 21, 1791): Beethoven’s Student and Liszt’s Teacher

 by Georg Predota  February 21st, 2026

The Austrian composer, pianist and teacher Carl Czerny (1791–1857) was one of the towering figures in the history of nineteenth-century pianism. He is probably best known for his extensive pedagogical works, such as his études and exercises.

Yet, Czerny was more than just a teacher of technique. He was a visionary who understood the evolving demands of the piano and the pianist, helping to shape the very vocabulary of modern piano playing.

The young Carl Czerny

The predominant view of Czerny at the end of the 20th century as a pedagogue churning out a seemingly endless stream of uninspired works was circulated by Robert Schumann. However, this cavalier dismissal of Czerny was not uniformly shared.

Czerny was a musical bridge between the Classical and Romantic eras, most notably as a student of Ludwig van Beethoven and later as the teacher of Franz Liszt. Beethoven considered Czerny the favoured interpreter of his keyboard works, and Czerny equipped Liszt with the polish and finesse to embark on his pianistic conquest of the world.

To celebrate Czerny’s birthday on 21 February 1791, let’s explore his fascinating trajectory from studying under Ludwig van Beethoven to teaching the young Franz Liszt.   

A Prodigy Emerges

Carl Czerny was, without doubt, an extraordinary child prodigy. He received his first lessons from his father at the age of three. According to his autobiography, he studied Bach, Clementi, and similar works… ‘as my father, far from wanting to train me to become a superficial concert player, tried to improve my skill in sight-reading and my musical sense.’ (Czerny, Recollections From My Life)

At any rate, Carl progressed rapidly, and by the age of ten he was able to play cleanly and fluently nearly everything of Mozart and Clementi. Initially, he played piano recitals in his parents’ home, and made his first public appearance in 1800, performing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor.   

Studies with Beethoven

Carl Czerny

Young Czerny was first introduced to Ludwig van Beethoven at the age of only eight. The first pianistic encounter, however, took place at Beethoven’s home in 1801. The visit was arranged by the composer and violinist Wenzel Krumpholz, and Czerny recalls.

“I had to play something right away, and since I was too bashful to start with one of his works, I played the great C-major concerto by Mozart. Beethoven soon took notice, moved close to my chair, and played the orchestral melody with his left hand whenever I had purely accompanying passages.” (Czerny, Recollections From My Life)

Beethoven then asked Czerny to play his recently published Pathétique Sonata and the accompaniment to Adelaide. Beethoven was suitably impressed and declared that he would accept the boy as his pupil. As such, Carl took lessons with Beethoven from 1801 to 1803 about twice a week, and sporadically until 1804.

Czerny describes the lessons as “consisting of scales and technique at first, then progressing with the stress on legato technique throughout.” On Beethoven’s recommendations, Prince Lichnowsky engaged Carl at the age of 13 to play Beethoven’s compositions for him, “all of which Carl knew by memory insofar as they had already been composed.” (Czerny, Recollections From My Life).  

Czerny’s autobiography and letter are important documents describing Beethoven during this period. He was the first to report symptoms of Beethoven’s deafness, several years before the matter became public.

Czerny highly admired Beethoven’s facility at improvisation, his expertise at fingering, the rapidity of his scales and trills, and his restrained demeanour while performing.

In turn, Beethoven selected Czerny as pianist for the premiere of his Piano Concerto No. 1 in 1806 and, at the age of 21, in February 1812, Czerny gave the Vienna premiere of Beethoven’s “Emperor Piano Concerto.”

In his early teens, Czerny began to compose, with his first published compositions appearing in 1806. He composed with astounding energy, and when all was said and done, left a legacy of around 1,000 compositions and treatises on almost all aspects of pianism at the time.

Czerny decided against international concert tours and instead got started on a highly successful teaching career. Apparently, he taught up to twelve lessons a day in the homes of Viennese nobility, and his star students included Theodor Döhler, Stephen Heller, Anna Sick, Ninette de Belleville, and a very young Franz Liszt.  

Talent in the Rough

One morning in 1819, Czerny’s most famous student would appear at his doorstep. As he recalled, “A man brought a small boy about eight years of age to me and asked me to let that little fellow play for me. He was a pale, delicate-looking child and while playing, he swayed on the chair as if drunk, so that I often thought he would fall to the floor.”

“Moreover, his playing was completely irregular, careless, and confused, and he had so little knowledge of correct fingering that he threw his fingers over the keyboard in an altogether arbitrary fashion. Nevertheless, I was amazed by the talent with which Nature had equipped him.”

“The father told me that his name was Liszt… and that up to this time he himself had taught his son. He was now asking me whether I would take charge of his little boy beginning the following year when he would come to Vienna. Of course, I gladly assented…” (Czerny, Recollections From My Life)  

Training a Prodigy

Berlioz, Czerny and Liszt

Once piano lessons started in earnest, Czerny quickly confessed that he had never before seen such an eager, talented, or industrious student. Within weeks, Liszt was able to play the scales in all keys with a masterful fluency, and the intensive study of Clementi’s sonatas instilled in him a firm feeling for rhythm and taught him beautiful touch and tone, correct fingering, and proper musical phrasing.

After a year’s worth of lessons, Czerny allowed Liszt to perform publicly, and he apparently aroused a degree of enthusiasm in Vienna that few artists have equalled. Unfortunately, Czerny reports, “just when Liszt had reached a most fruitful stage in his studies, his father wished for great pecuniary gain and went on tour, first to Hungary and ultimately to Paris and London.” (Czerny, Recollections From My Life)

During his time of study with Carl Czerny, the 11-year-old Liszt was apparently introduced to Beethoven himself. Since Beethoven had an aversion against prodigies, he had refused to see Liszt for a long time. Finally, it was Czerny who convinced him.   

Liszt Before Beethoven

Franz Liszt reports, “Beethoven was sitting by the window at a long narrow table working. For a moment he looked at us with a serious face, said a couple of quick words to Czerny but turned silent as my dear teacher signalled to me to go to the piano.”

“First I played a small piece by Ries. When I had finished Beethoven asked if I could play a fugue by Bach. I chose the C-minor fugue from The Well-Tempered Clavier. Can you transpose this fugue? Beethoven asked.

Fortunately I could. After the final chord I looked up. Beethoven’s deep glowing eyes rested upon me, but suddenly a light smile flew over his otherwise serious face. He approached me and stroked me several times over my head with affection.

Suddenly my courage rose: “May I play one of your pieces?” I asked with audacity. Beethoven nodded with a smile. I played the first movement of his C major piano concerto.

When I had finished Beethoven stretched out his arms, kissed me on my forehead and said in a soft voice: You go on ahead. You are one of the lucky ones! It will be your destiny to bring joy and delight to many people and that is the greatest happiness one can achieve.” (Beethoven, Impressions by his Contemporaries).  

Anecdote and Evidence

That particular meeting, according to most scholars, did probably take place, but some of the dramatic elements, like the kiss and prophecy, might well have been embellished or reshaped by later storytelling.

Liszt performed several of Czerny’s compositions as part of his repertoire, and he dedicated his twelve Transcendental Etudes to Czerny as well. Subsequently, he invited Czerny to collaborate on the Hexaméron, a collaborative work commissioned by Princess Cristina Trivulzio Belgiojoso in 1837.   

Father of Modern Pianism

By passing the legacy of Beethoven to Liszt, Czerny established himself as a father of modern piano technique for subsequent generations of pianists. The list of his piano descendants is vast, and ranges from Leschetizky, Prokofiev, and Arrau, to Cziffra, Barenboim, Rachmaninoff and Fleisher.

Over the last few decades, a substantial amount of research and re-evaluation of Carl Czerny has taken place, helping us to move beyond his traditional image as a composer of dry technical exercises. Finally, it seems, musicology has taken up the suggestion of Johannes Brahms who wrote in a letter to Clara Schumann:

“I certainly think Czerny’s large pianoforte course Op. 500 is worthy of study, particularly in regard to what he says about Beethoven and the performance of his works, for he was a diligent and attentive pupil… Czerny’s fingering is particularly worthy of attention. In fact I think that people today ought to have more respect for this excellent man.”