It's all about the classical music composers and their works from the last 400 years and much more about music. Hier erfahren Sie alles über die klassischen Komponisten und ihre Meisterwerke der letzten vierhundert Jahre und vieles mehr über Klassische Musik.
Martha Argerichs simultaneously one of the most celebrated and most enigmatic of classical music stars. Many people call her the greatest pianist of her generation – and others, the greatest pianist who ever lived!
Today, we are taking a look at the life and career of this fascinating woman and looking at fifteen facts you might not have known about her.
1. Martha Argerich was a precocious child.
Martha Argerich as a kid
She began kindergarten before her third birthday. One day, a schoolmate teased her that she couldn’t play piano. She then proceeded to sit down and play a piece by ear that their teacher had just played for them. She was just three years old.
2. Her first piano teacher was Italian pianist Vincenzo Scaramuzza.
He said of her that she may have been six, but she had the soul of a 40-year-old.
3. When she was a teenager, her family moved to Europe, and she began studying with one of the quirkiest pianists of all time.
Friedrich Gulda and Martha Argerich
His name was Friedrich Gulda, and he flouted convention by doing things like playing a concert in the nude and even faking his own death. His rebellious spirit appealed to Argerich, and although she only studied with him for eighteen months, she has cited him as one of the most important influences in her musical life.
4. When she was sixteen years old, she won two major competitions within the span of three weeks:
5. When she was a young woman, she gave up the piano for three years.
Martha Argerich
During this time, she considered becoming a doctor or a secretary. Luckily for listeners, she returned to the keyboard, and she won the 1965 Chopin competition when she was twenty-four, shortly after her break and after having given birth to her first child.
6. Her personal life has been tumultuous.
Her first husband was composer and conductor Robert Chen, a friend whom she was married to briefly in 1964. In 1969, she married conductor Charles Dutoit, who became a trusted musical collaborator. In the 1970s she was partnered with pianist Stephen Kovacevich. She had three daughters, one during each relationship.
7. Argerich was an unconventional mom.
She liked having her kids at home rather than sending them to school, and she fostered a bohemian atmosphere, often staying up all night and sleeping well past noon. She did not have custody of her first daughter, Lyda Chen, and didn’t see her very often until she was a teenager. The two have reconciled and, according to a 2016 profile in the Washington Post, mother and daughter remain close.
To combat this, she has shied away from solo repertoire and focused on chamber music and concerto performances, where she has other musicians to bounce ideas off of.
10. She is notorious for canceling appearances, due to incapacitating stage fright.
This happens so often that she doesn’t sign contracts. She also loathes giving interviews, which is why you read so few of them.
She doesn’t like to perform pieces that she doesn’t feel a deep connection with. Her favorite composers, and the composers she feels the deepest connection to, include Schumann, Ravel, and Chopin.
Martha Argerich: Schumann Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 54 (2022)
She also says that hearing Stephen Kovacevich playing this concerto was the thing that made her fall in love with him. She believes she will never play it in public. It’s the only Beethoven piano concerto that she hasn’t performed.
13. She travels the world with a stuffed Paddington bear.
Argerich’s oldest daughter told Gramophone in 2021, “She is always hugging her Paddington Bear and it is falling to pieces. This is the bear that Stéphanie [her youngest daughter] offered her to protect her during her travels, and has been traveling for at least 25 years, and recently had a change of clothes which was very complicated because we could not find exactly the right red hat and blue outfit.”
14. Martha Argerich was diagnosed with malignant melanoma in 1990.
She was forty-nine years old. It was treated and went into remission, but then returned five years later. Luckily, an experimental treatment in California resulted in Argerich becoming cancer-free.
15. In 2012 Stéphanie Argerich filmed a thoughtful documentary about her mother called Bloody Daughter.
In it, Martha Argerich comes across as a magnetic presence, simultaneously intense and childlike. In a poignant voiceover, Stéphanie says, “My mother is a supernatural being in touch of something beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. In fact, I’m the daughter of a goddess.”
Even at the best of times, the relationship between Russia and the Ukraine has been somewhat troubled. Although they share much of their early history, the Mongol invasion in the 13th century initiated a distinct division between the Russian and Ukrainian people. Tensions escalated over subsequent centuries, and from the mid 17th century, the Ukraine was gradually absorbed into the Russian Empire. In 1918, Ukraine declared its full independence from the Russian Republic, and it took two treaties to calm the military conflict. In 1922, both Ukraine and Russia were founding members of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and both were signatories to the termination of the union in December 1991. Ever since, acute and ongoing territorial and political disputes have shaped the tenuous relationship between the two countries. You only have to listen to the daily news to know what I mean!
The reason for this brief historical overview is simple. Textbooks on music history consider Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840–1893) “an outstanding Russian composer,” and rather conveniently overlook the fact that the composer had Ukrainian roots. His paternal grandfather Pyotr Fyodorovich Chaikovsky was born in the Ukrainian village of Mykolayivka, and he trained as a doctor at the Kyiv Academy. His military service took him throughout Russia, but his son Ilya Chaikovsky (1795–1880) remained close to the Ukrainian roots of his father. And the same is certainly true for his son Pyotr Ilyich. Although born in the Russian town of Votkinsk, Tchaikovsky annually spent several months in the Ukraine, where he composed over 30 works. Tchaikovsky wrote: “I found the peace of mind here that I had unsuccessfully sought in Moscow and Petersburg.”
Tchaikovsky knew and loved Ukrainian folklore for its melodiousness and profound lyricism, and these important cultural and musical influences found their way into some of his best-known compositions, including the Piano Concerto No.1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23.
The house where Tchaikovsky used to stay in Ukraine
Nikolai Rubinstein was generally regarded as the foremost Russian pianist of his time, and he greatly encouraged Tchaikovsky’s creative effort. However, their friendship became severely strained when Tchaikovsky dedicated, and presented his first Piano Concerto to Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky recalled that “I played the entire work for Rubinstein, but he did not say a single word. When he finally spoke, a torrent of insults poured from his mouth. My concerto was worthless and unplayable. Passages were so fragmented, so clumsy, so badly written that they were beyond rescue. The work was bad, vulgar and I had shamelessly stolen from other composers.” To consider the work unplayable is one thing, but to call it vulgar hints at a fundamental dislike of its Ukrainian influences. Needless to say, Tchaikovsky hastily changed the dedication to Hans von Bülow, who gave the first performance of the work on October 25, 1875 in Boston.
The first movement inscribed “Allegro non troppo” opens with a majestic introduction, broadly voiced in the orchestra and forcefully punctuated by widely spaced chords in the piano. This memorable tune—scored in the unusual key of D-flat major—is first heard in the orchestra and later taken over by the soloist. Surprisingly, the soloist proceeds straightaway into an extensive piano cadenza. Once the strings articulate the theme once more, the introduction comes to a close, and astoundingly, this theme is never heard again. Soft horn calls and a brass chorale announce the movement properly, with its first theme derived from an Ukrainian folk tune. Maintaining a perfectly balanced discourse between the orchestra and soloist, Tchaikovsky energetically emphasizes the rhythmic qualities of this tune. The lyrical contrast, which unfolds in two sentimental melodies, is first introduced by the orchestra and then repeated by the solo piano. A highly virtuosic interlude provides the segue-way for an extended development section, which continues to alternate passages of dramatic expression with virtuoso displays by the soloist.
A gentle and introspective dance, introduced by the flutes, opens the “Andantino” movement. For the most part, the piano performs an accompanimental function, as this lilting theme is sounded by the cello and oboe. However, in the central “Prestisssimo”, based on the French tune “Il faut s’amuser et rire” (It’s all fun and laughter), a very demanding piano part is reinstated, before a brief cadenza returns us to the opening dance.
The concluding “Allegro” opens with another Ukrainian folk-song, broadly contrasted by an expansive romantic theme, first sounded in the strings. Russian and French influences notwithstanding, it becomes immediately apparent that Tchaikovsky’s Ukrainian musical roots creatively shaped this venerable warhorse of the concerto repertory.
But do you know about Rosalyn Tureck, the incredible keyboard player who inspired him?
Over the course of her very long career, Rosalyn Tureck wore countless hats as a pianist, theremin player, harpsichordist, keyboard player, composer, conductor, teacher, and all-around great musical thinker.
Rosalyn Tureck
Today, we’re looking at her life, including the mystical experience in a Juilliard practice room that changed the course of her career, her fascinating experiments with very new (and very old) instruments, and how her playing inspired a young Glenn Gould.
Rosalyn Tureck’s Early Education
Rosalyn Tureck was born on 14 December 1913 in Chicago to two Russian-Jewish immigrants.
Her whole family was musical. Her grandfather worked as a cantor in Kiev, and her mother taught her three daughters to play piano.
When Rosalyn was nine, she began taking lessons from Sophia Brilliant-Liven. Brilliant-Liven had an impressive resume: she’d studied under Anton Rubinstein, the pianist who had founded the St. Petersburg Conservatory.
She was also a strict teacher. Tureck later remembered that for an entire four years, she never received a single compliment.
The first compliment came after Rosalyn won a major competition at thirteen. Brilliant-Liven heard her performance and told her, “If I had been listening from outside the auditorium, I would have sworn it was Anton Rubinstein himself playing.”
A Fascination With New (and Old) Technology
Rosalyn Tureck
From an early age, Tureck demonstrated what would become a lifelong interest in new musical technology.
She was especially taken by an electronic instrument called the theremin, which was patented in 1928. When she was ten years old, she had the opportunity to meet the instrument’s inventor, Leon Theremin. It wasn’t long before she was playing Bach on it.
At sixteen, she realised she could use her theremin expertise to secure a scholarship. She went on to make her Carnegie Hall debut on the theremin – not piano – in 1932.
Around the same time, Tureck also began studying with pianist and harpsichordist Gavin Williamson in Chicago. In the 1920s, when there were only a couple of dozen harpsichords in the country, Williamson and his partner Philip Manuel went to Paris to commission a reproduction. They played a major role in resurrecting the instrument in America.
Williamson passed along his love of the harpsichord – and especially Bach as played on the harpsichord – to Tureck.
Revelations at Juilliard
Rosalyn Tureck
When Tureck auditioned for Juilliard in 1931, the audition committee asked her to play a Bach Prelude and Fugue. She asked, “Which one?” Turns out she had all of them memorised and was prepared to play any.
Needless to say, she was accepted into Juilliard. She began studying with Olga Samaroff, a teacher well-known for encouraging the unique creative voices of her students.
One day, while at Juilliard, she had an epiphany about the works.
At a certain point, I lost consciousness, and when I regained it, I had a sort of revelation. All of a sudden, I had within my reach a penetration of Bach’s structure, of his entire sense of form…
A door had opened for me on an entirely different world.
This epiphany at college would form the basis of her professional specialty.
Rosalyn Tureck playing Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in A Minor
Promoting Bach
In 1937, Tureck played six all-Bach concerts in New York City. Such a specialty was unusual at the time. She began presenting these performances annually.
It took time to win over the critics, but she eventually did. In 1944, the New York Timeswrote about her performance of the Goldberg Variations that she “gave each variation with so distinctive a character and with such verve and vitality that the listener had the illusion of hearing Bach himself playing them on the harpsichord.”
Other musicians were also engaging with Bach’s keyboard works around this time. In 1946, harpsichordist Wanda Landowska made a recording of the Goldberg Variations, and it sold unexpectedly well.
Tureck went into the studio herself in 1947, creating her own recording of the Goldberg Variations.
In 1949, a sixteen-year-old Glenn Gould came to one of her New York Bach concerts. He was absolutely dazzled by her and her recordings.
Glenn Gould at the piano
He later remembered Tureck:
She was the first person who played Bach in what seemed to me a sensible way. It was playing of such uprightness, to put it into the moral sphere. There was such a sense of repose that had nothing to do with languor, but rather with moral rectitude in the liturgical sense.
He also said:
I was fighting a battle in which I was never going to get a surrender flag from my teacher on the way Bach should go, but her records were the first evidence that one did not fight alone.
Gould himself went on to make his own legendary, hugely influential recording of the Goldberg Variations in 1955.
Tureck’s expertise didn’t stop at Bach. Even during her time at Juilliard, she began exploring her interest in electronic instruments. She actually began studying the theremin with Theremin himself.
Later, she’d become fascinated with the artistic possibilities inherent in electronic keyboards.
For twenty years, she worked with researcher Dr. Hugo Beniof, a seismologist who worked at CalTech and was developing electronic keyboards. The two wanted to create an instrument that played like a piano and had a wide dynamic range.
After Beniof’s death, despite the fact that the instrument had never been truly perfected, a performance featuring it was organised at the Hollywood Bowl. Marketing materials heralded that the electronic piano would be louder than an entire orchestra.
The invention was conceptually interesting and pushed the bounds of technology at the time. Unfortunately, in the end, it turned out that a loud piano had limited commercial appeal, but it was still a testament to Tureck’s fascination with pushing boundaries.
Contemporary Music
Rosalyn Tureck
Tureck also loved contemporary music, championing many new works over the course of her career.
She premiered Copland’s challenging piano sonata in Britain; Diamond wrote his first piano sonata in 1947 for her; and she premiered William Schuman’s 1942 piano concerto.
In 1949, she founded the Contemporary Music Society, and she ran the organisation until 1953.
She even composed herself, even studying for a time with Schoenberg. In 1952, in the words of her obituary, “she presented the first programme in the United States of tape and electronic music.”
Travels and Teaching
For decades, Rosalyn Tureck traveled across America and the world giving performances.
She founded her own orchestra – the Tureck Bach Orchestra – which performed between 1960 and 1972.
She also became the first woman to conduct at a New York Philharmonic subscription concert in 1958. Leonard Bernstein conducted the program, but he stepped aside during the Bach concerto so that she could conduct from the piano.
Teaching was a major part of her life. Over the course of her career, she taught at a number of institutions, including the Philadelphia Conservatory, the Mannes School of Music, Juilliard, Columbia University, and Oxford.
She was also the author of a number of books, including the three-volume Introduction To The Performance Of Bach, and also edited editions of various Bach works.
The list of musical organisations she founded is staggering. Here’s the list in her obituary:
“Composers of Today, New York City, 1949-53; the International Bach Society in 1966, and the Institute for Bach Studies, New York, two years later; the Tureck Bach Institute, New York, 1966-90; and last but not least, the Tureck Bach Research Foundation (TBRF) of Oxford in 1993.”
Final Years and Legacy
Rosalyn Tureck
In the 1990s, Tureck moved to Oxford to oversee the TBRF. Her wide-ranging interests and huge personality proved to be irresistible.
In the words of her obituary:
The TBRF held an annual symposium at which distinguished speakers from different disciplines – ranging from music to astrophysics and Egyptology – addressed the same topic, such as structure or embellishment.
At those meetings, Tureck played Bach on everything from the harpsichord to the Steinway and the synthesiser – often on several instruments during one concert – and she had little patience for the restrictive attitudes that declared Bach should only be played on historical instruments.
Rosalyn Tureck died in July 2003. She left behind a reputation for being one of the most imaginative keyboard artists of the twentieth century.
In 2025, we’re celebrating 300 years sinceAlessandro Scarlatti(1660-1725) left his mark on music history. Born in Palermo, Scarlatti composed over 100 operas and 600 chamber cantatas, many featuring exquisite da capo arias renowned for their lyrical elegance and dramatic intensity.
Alessandro Scarlatti became known as the “father of the Neapolitan school of Opera,” and his melodies feature fluid phrasing and innovative orchestration. It’s like a mixture of Baroque ornamentation with a proto-Classical clarity.
Alessandro Scarlatti
To commemorate his passing on 22 October 1725, let’s highlight the 10 most frequently performed and recorded arias, pieces that evoke deep emotions ranging from tender longing to stormy passion.
Radiant Dawn of Love
Alessandro Scarlatti crafted “Già il sole dal Gange” (Already the Sun from the Ganges) at the remarkably young age of 19 for his second opera, L’honestà negli amori (Honesty in Love Affairs).
It premiered on 3 February 1680 at the Teatro di Palazzo Bernini in Rome under the patronage of Queen Christina of Sweden. The work explores themes of romantic intrigue in an Algerian setting, and the aria is sung by the character “Saldino,” a pageboy.
The music pulses with a buoyant optimism, with the first rays of sunlight dancing across a serene river. This radiant dawn aria, with its soaring, sunlit phrases and graceful melismas, captures youthful love’s awakening. It is still a staple in vocal pedagogy today for its pure and flowing melodic line.
Love’s Anguish
Alessandro Scarlatti
Scarlatti’s opera Il Pompeo premiered in Rome in 1683, and it draws on the historical figure of Pompey the Great. Weaving a tale of political intrigue and personal betrayal, the aria “O cessate di piagarmi” (Oh, Cease to Torment Me) expresses the anguish of love’s torment, a recurring theme in Scarlatti’s operas.
Even at this early stage in his career, Scarlatti had already mastered the art of the da capo aria, using its ABA structure to deepen emotional contrast. It is a beautiful aria that pulses with raw, aching emotion.
The music unfolds like a quiet cry of the heart, its languid melody weaving a tapestry of longing and despair. Scarlatti distilled complex human suffering into a concise and expressive form.
Sighs of Solitude
Let’s stay with Il Pompeo for our next selection. “Toglietemi la vita ancor” (Take Away My Life Again) is a piercingly intense aria that lays bare the depths of despair and resignation.
The music moves at a very deliberate, almost funereal pace, its melody a fragile thread of anguish woven through a delicate web of sighs. The vocal line, with its aching leaps and lingering phrases, feels like a whispered plea for release from unbearable suffering.
Each note is heavy with the weight of betrayal and lost love, and the sparse continuo accompaniment underscores the solitude. The aria’s stark beauty and raw emotion have made it a lasting gem, and it is frequently performed independently.
Floral Fantasy
Alessandro Scarlatti
Alessandro Scarlatti composed “Le violette” (The Violets) for his opera Pirro e Demetrio, a work that premiered in Naples in 1694. It tells a tale of love and rivalry set against the backdrop of ancient kingdoms, focusing on the characters Pyrrhus and Demetrius.
The aria uses the metaphor of violets to express delicate, amorous sentiments, a common Baroque device. Scarlatti’s setting showcases his skill in crafting lyrical, expressive arias within the da capo form, balancing emotional depth with virtuosic elegance.
This aria blooms with delicate charm and youthful longing as the music dances with a gentle, almost pastoral grace. This delicate pastoral gem with lilting rhythms and floral imagery in the vocal line blends sweetness and melancholy in a da capo form that unfolds like a blooming flower.
Hypnotic Embrace
Alessandro Scarlatti composed “Dormi o fulmine di Guerra” (Sleep, O Thunderbolt of War) for his oratorio Giuditta. Unlike his operas, this sacred oratorio is based on the biblical story of Judith and Holofernes and focuses on dramatic storytelling through music without staging.
The aria, sung by Judith to the sleeping Holofernes, is a moment of tender irony, as she lulls the Assyrian general to sleep before killing him. It is essentially a lullaby that unfolds with a tender and almost hypnotic rhythm.
The vocal line, with its soft and undulating phrases, conveys a sense of calm and compassion, urging rest and peace upon a figure of strength and turmoil. The aria evokes a poignant blend of tranquillity and reverence, and it is often extracted for a standalone performance.
Moonlit Shadows
The cantata Correa nel seno amato (As the sun hastened toward its beloved) premiered in Naples in 1699. A semi-dramatic work, it was performed for courtly celebrations, and likely commissioned for a private aristocratic event.
The aria “Ombre opache” (Opaque Shadows) reflects a moment of emotional and dramatic intensity, and cast in da capo form, it uses subtle ornamentation and harmonic shading to evoke a vivid emotional landscape.
Undulating phrases over a continuo bass evoke a moonlit reverie with subtle harmonic shifts allowing the music to drift like a shadow over a misty landscape. The sinuous melody weaves a sense of quiet dread and longing.
The delicate vocal line feels like a whispered confession, heavy with the weight of hidden sorrow and forbidden desire. The sparse and mournful continuo accompaniment enhances the atmosphere of solitude and evokes a profound sense of introspection and unease.
Tomb-Side Whisper
Alessandro Scarlatti
The opera Mitridate Eupatore premiered in Vence in 1707. This operatic masterpiece centres on the historical figure Mithridates VI of Pontus, and weaves a tale of betrayal, power, and personal tragedy.
This tomb-side lament features profound and arching lines spiced up with chromatic descents. Blending sorrow with sublime tenderness, this heart-wrenching aria pulses with raw grief and tender devotion.
Unfolding at a funereal pace, this delicate lament seems to cradle the weight of loss. Drawn-out phrases and subtle ornaments convey a sense of intimate sorrow, as the character is whispering to a departed loved one. Here, Scarlatti captures human vulnerability, making it a standout piece often performed independently in recitals.
Tragedy in the Minor Key
Alessandro Scarlatti’s Griselda – title page of the libretto
Premiered in January 1721 in Rome, Griselda is based on Boccaccio’s tale of a woman tested by the cruel trials of loyalty and love. Composed late in Scarlatti’s career, this opera reflects the composer’s refined mastery of the da capo aria, lending dramatic expressiveness with intricate vocal writing.
The aria “Figlio! Tiranno! O Dio!” (Son! Tyrant! O God!) is a visceral outpouring of anguish and conflict, charged with dramatic intensity. Set in a turbulent minor key, the aria surges with a restless, almost frantic energy.
Its jagged melodic lines and abrupt rhythmic shifts mirror a heart torn between love, betrayal, and despair. Marked by impassioned leaps and anguished phrasing, this aria feels like a cry wrenched from the depths of a tormented soul. Here, raw emotion meets melodic elegance.
Fleeting Beauty—Eternal Music
The serenata Ferma omai, fugace e bella (Stay Now, Fleeting and Beautiful), was probably written for a private occasion, and it celebrates mythological and pastoral themes common to the genre.
The aria, “Va, va che I lamenti miei” (Go, Go, for My Laments), brims with yearning and resignation. The music flows with a graceful yet sorrowful lilt, its melody weaving a delicate tapestry of heartbreak and quiet defiance.
Alessandro Scarlatti, a cornerstone of the Neapolitan Baroque, masterfully blended lyrical expressiveness with dramatic intensity, crafting arias that capture the depths of human emotion with vivid melodic lines and refined da capo structures.
As we commemorate his 300th anniversary, we celebrate his artistry of infusing both sacred and secular works with profound emotional resonance. Just listen to the aria “While I Rejoice in Sweet Oblivion” for the seamless balance between virtuosic flair and evocative storytelling. His innovative use of melody, harmony, and orchestration ensures his works remain timeless.
Joseph Haydn: the classical era's great humourist... and more
Thomas Hardy (1757-1805), Portrait of Franz Joseph Haydn (Rohrau, 1732 - Vienna, 1809), Austrian composeDEA PICTURE LIBRARY/De Agostini via Getty Images
Read on for an introduction to the great composer Joseph Haydn, known (among other things) for his huge and endlessly rewarding catalogue ofsymphoniesandstring quartets.
Who was Haydn?
Joseph Haydn was one of the most important composers of the Classical era. In fact, Haydn (1732-1809) joins Mozart (1756-1791) and Beethoven (1770-1827) as one of the era's three most significant composers. Some of Haydn's style, particularly in his earliest symphonies and string quartets, can be traced back to the Classical era's predecessor, the Baroque era.
The greatest composers of all time, ranked
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But he also looked forward: a large selection of his more than 100 symphonies bear all the hallmarks of the Sturm und Drang era, while some of the late symphonies and string quartets begin to anticipate Beethoven in their almost Romantic breadth of vision.
Haydn is also noted for his humour - his music contains many jokes. The most famous musical joke comes in Haydn's Symphony No. 94, the 'Surprise'. The second movement is a theme and variations, and the opening theme is played softly - but with a sudden fortissimo chord at the end which never fails to surprise new listeners. The music then returns to its original quiet dynamic as if nothing has happened, and the ensuing variations do not repeat the joke.
Franz Joseph Haydn was born on 31 March 1732 (exactly 47 years after another great composer, Bach), in the Austrian village of Rohrau.
Was Haydn's family musical?
Haydn's father, Mathias Haydn, was a wheelwright, while his mother Maria Haydn, née Koller, had previously worked as a cook in the palace of the local aristocrat. So Haydn's musical antecedents are not obvious. However, his father was a keen folk musician who had taught himself to play the harp. In fact, Haydn noted later in life that he had enjoyed a very musical childhood, with frequent singing performances as a family and with neighbours.
Where did Haydn grow up?
The young Haydn remained in the village of Rohrau only until the age of six. This is because his parents, noticing that the boy had a gift for music, accepted a suggestion from a relative, Johann Matthias Frankh. The latter was schoolmaster and choirmaster in the town of Hainburg, and offered to take on young Joseph as an apprentice.
The five-year-old Joseph Haydn gives an early clue to his prodigious musical talent, playing a 'violin' via two sticks to accompany his harpist father. From ‘Story-Lives of the Great Musicians’, by F.J. Rowbotham - The Print Collector via Getty Images
Haydn then moved to Hainburg, where he lived with Frankh. He would never again live with his parents. The young Haydn had a tough time living in the Frankh household: he later recalled that he was often hungry and his clothes were frequently dirty. Musically, however, it was a very beneficial time. He quickly learned to play the harpsichord and violin, and sang in the church choir.
We think that Haydn may have had a fine singing voice, as in 1739-40 he passed an audition with Georg von Reutter, the director of music in St Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna, who was in the area looking for new choirboys. Haydn passed his audition and, after some additional training, spent the years 1740-1749 as a chorister at St Stephen's.
Did Haydn sing at Vivaldi's funeral?
It is popularly believed that Haydn sang at the funeral of Antonio Vivaldi in 1741. However, this is unlikely, as there probably wasn't any music performed at the Italian composer's funeral.
What are Haydn's most famous pieces?
Like his immediate successors Mozart and Beethoven, Haydn was strong across a few different musical forms.
Haydn's best known pieces include his 104 symphonies. Many of these have names, such as the 'Clock', 'Drum Roll', 'Miracle', 'Bear' and so forth, referring to musical qualities or references. One of his most famous symphonies is Haydn's symphonynumber 104, the 'London' symphony, his final completed work in this form. Confusingly, his final 12 symphonies (numbers 93 through 104) are also known as the 'London' Symphonies, as they were composed during Haydn's two seasons in the capital.
Haydn's two Cello Concertos, full of upbeat charm and good humour, are also well loved. We've written about some of the best recordings of Haydn's Cello Concertos.
Haydn is also known as the 'father of the string quartet', because he was such a hugely important figure in the development and popularising of the string quartet form. Haydn wrote 60 string quartets: among the most famous are his six opus 76 string quartets. Perhaps Haydn's most famous string quartet is opus 76 number 3, nicknamed the 'Emperor'.
The second movement of the 'Emperor' will be familiar, as it is the German national anthem. It's a set of variations on 'Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser' ('God save Emperor Francis'), an anthem he wrote for Emperor Francis II, which later became the national anthem of Austria-Hungary. It later became the German national anthem, the Deutschlandlied.
Haydn also wrote some beautiful and much-admired choral and sacred music, including several rousing Masses and an oratorio, The Creation.
We've recommended five essential Haydn works to get you started on
Who did Haydn marry?
By 1760, at the age of 28, Haydn had earned the position of kapellmeister (orchestra leader) to Count Morzin, where his duties included leading a small orchestra. This job gave Haydn the financial security he needed to marry. His wife was Maria Anna Theresia Keller (1729–1800): Haydn had previously been in love with her younger sister of Therese.
Was Haydn's marriage happy?
No, Haydn and Maria Anna Theresia's marriage was not a happy one. There were no children, and both of them had affairs.
Did Haydn and Mozart meet?
Yes, in fact Haydn and Mozart became friends. The two composers met in around 1784, and may have occasionally played in string quartets together.
Haydn was famously generous in his appreciation of Mozart's music, praising it whenever he had the opportunity. Mozart returned the compliment: he dedicated a set of six string quartets to his friend (they are now known as the 'Haydn' quartets).
Mozart: the great composer and Haydn became friends, and may have performed together - brandstaetter / Imagno / Getty Imnages
What did Haydn say about Mozart's music?
Haydn had this very generous assessment of his friend's musical output: 'If only I could impress Mozart's inimitable works on the soul of every friend of music, and the souls of high personages in particular, as deeply, with the same musical understanding and with the same deep feeling, as I understand and feel them, the nations would vie with each other to possess such a jewel.'
Did Haydn and Beethoven meet?
Yes, Beethoven and Haydn did meet. The two composers first encountered each other on Boxing Day, 1790, when Haydn was 58 and Beethoven was just 20. They met in Beethoven's home town of Bonn: Haydn was passing through on his way to London, where he was to perform for the first of the two celebrated seasons that would produce the 12 London symphonies.
Beethoven as a young man. He met Haydn when the latter visited his hometown of Bonn - Hulton Archive/Getty Images
When Haydn passed through town again two years later, on his way back from Britain, Beethoven showed him a couple of musical scores: two Cantatas, on the Death of Emperor Joseph II (WoO 87) and the Elevation of Emperor Leopold II (WoO O88).
Haydn was impressed. So much so, in fact, that he told Beethoven he'd be happy to teach him, if the latter could make it to Vienna.
Did Haydn teach Beethoven?
Yes: Beethoven started learning with Haydn not long after arriving in Vienna in November 1792. It wasn't a particularly fruitful teacher/student relationship, however: Haydn was very busy with commissions, and a year later he left for his second London trip.
Later, when Beethoven performed his three Piano Trios, Opus 1, for his teacher, Haydn (who was tired from his return trip from Britain) actually suggested that one of the Trios - number 3 - could do with a little more work.
What did Beethoven say about Haydn?
Beethoven was stung by this criticism. The two didn't come to blows, but after this point Beethoven tended to criticise Haydn's teaching. He once commented, 'I never learned anything from Haydn.' He did, though, dedicate his next work - the three Opus 2 Piano Sonatas - to his erstwhile teacher.
Haydn and humour
A late-night Prom in July 2005: Sir John Eliot Gardiner’s London Baroque Soloists are spinning their way through the finale of Joseph Haydn’s Symphony No. 90 in C major. The music arrives at a definitive fanfare in the home key and stops. The promenaders begin to applaud – only to hear Sir John shout ‘It’s not finished!’
Nor is it, for after four silent bars, the movement quietly picks up in the remotest key, wandering through all manner of byways before getting back on what is surely the home straight. But then it all happens again: same stop, same audience reaction, same continuation.
Without letting on, Sir John has gone straight into a repeat of the movement’s second half, as Haydn asks. Accordingly, when the real ending does arrive, the audience is reluctant to applaud lest it be caught out a third time – which, by that very reluctance, it duly has been.
What did Haydn's contemporaries think of his music?
Haydn’s notoriety as a prankster has not always enhanced his reputation. Even during his long and successful lifetime (1732-1809), there were more solemn music-lovers, including Austria’s Emperor Joseph II no less, who regarded such quirks as beneath the dignity of music. In the 19th century, Haydn’s jokes were widely heard as tokens of genial superficiality, and only a fraction of his vast output kept a toehold in the repertoire.
Emperor Joseph II: not a fan of the humour Haydn liked to smuggle into his music - Heritage Art/Heritage Images via Getty Images
Even today, there are many who would hesitate to place Haydn’s achievement on a par with his admiring friend Mozart or his unruly pupil Beethoven. The Mozart myth of the doomed young genius, or the Beethoven image of the Titan battling against Fate, seem much more romantic than the story of the humbly born choirboy and jobbing musician, who rises through servitude to independence by means of self-education and sheer hard work to become the most highly regarded composer in Europe.
And after all, nothing dates more quickly than humour. Yet here, over two centuries after its composition, was an arrangement of notes which, without the aid of any programme or extra-musical explanation (Sir John Eliot’s mid-performance expostulation aside), left that Proms audience abuzz with bemusement and delight once it realised the subtlety with which its expectations had been subverted.
What sort of humour does Haydn use?
Haydn’s jokes, in fact, are rarely mere buffooneries of the loud-bang-to-wake-up-the-listener kind. They almost always turn upon some shrewd insight into the way musical processes are perceived – as, for instance, in the triple-time finale of his late Piano Sonata in D major, H. XVI:51 (1794), where the phrasing, rhythm and harmony get so rapidly out of sync that between bars 12 and 15 one experiences a sort of musical vertigo.
Nor did he contrive these effects only for fun. Part of the mystery of the slow introduction to the Symphony No. 103 (Drumroll) lies in the fact that the ear is left uncertain at first whether the music is in duple or triple time. And when the sprightly main theme of the finale of the String Quartet in E flat, Op. 33 No. 2 (1781), ultimately fragments and sputters out, we may smile, but the effect is genuinely expressive in its pathos.
For all his transcendent mastery, one will scarcely find this kind of musical wit in Mozart, whose creative temperament was very different from Haydn’s, while Beethoven’s humour sounds galumphing by comparison.
Was Haydn's music typical of the 18th century?
Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Haydn’s musical language is the extent to which it was self-created. Of course, its basic elements were the same as those of any other mid-18th-century composer: tonal harmonies and key structures, balanced phrases, token snatches of counterpoint, use of genres such as minuet, aria, sonata, divertimento, and so on.
What was evident quite early on was the idiosyncratic angle from which he approached these conventional elements and the quite exceptional focus and drive with which he pursued his predilections. By his middle years, it had already become commonplace to praise Haydn not only for his inexhaustible inventiveness but, above all, for his originality.
Not that Haydn’s idiosyncratic approach to musical rhetoric was quickly achieved. No doubt his years as a St Stephen’s Cathedral choirboy in Vienna imbued him with the feeling for counterpoint that he was later to put to such vigorous use.
What is the Sturm und Drang style?
Yet it was not until he was almost 40 years old and Kapellmeister to the Esterházy family that his self-taught style burst forth with the force of genius in his so-called Sturm und Drang (‘storm and stress’) symphonies and string quartets. Suddenly his composing seemed fraught with fierce intentness, obscure keys, dark moods, stark textures, abrupt stops and starts.
Esterhazy Palace in Fertod, Hungary. This was the summer residence of the Esterházy family, and Haydn and his orchestra would spend summers here - Vittoriano Rastelli/CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images
Symphony No. 45 in F sharp minor (Farewell), written to indicate his players’ increasing restlessness at an overlong stay at Prince Esterházy’s summer palace, is the most famous of these for its unexpectedly serene ending in which the players gradually leave the stage. But the implacable onrush of the opening movement, the lonely hush of its Adagio and grim tread of its minuet are quite as striking.
What was Haydn's influence on classical music?
Haydn never lost his sense of the radical, but seems to have concluded thereafter that it was kinder to his listeners to insinuate his bolder strokes under the disguise of a more popular style. So the ground was laid for the unprecedented synthesis of the Paris and London symphonies in the late 1780s and ’90s.
By his early 70s, he had accumulated in his symphonies, quartets, piano trios, piano sonatas, and the late choral works, five such inexhaustible bodies of music that his relative failure as an opera composer hardly seems to matter.
Add to this his far-reaching development of the string quartet as a vehicle for the most concentrated and intimate musical expression, and his originating of such forms as so-called double variations, and he stands among the half-dozen most decisive and inexhaustible figures in the history of Western music.
Where Haydn is concerned, ‘It’s not finished’ indeed.
When did Haydn die?
Franz Joseph Haydn died on 31 May, 1809 in Vienna.
