Jacqueline du Pré (Born on January 26, 1945) Beyond Elgar

 by Georg Predota  January 26th, 2026

When Jacqueline du Pré (1945-1987) stepped into a recording studio in August 1965 to record Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir John Barbirolli, the world first fully sensed the emotional intensity and communicative power of her playing.

At just 20 years of age, this electrifying performance secured her international reputation almost overnight, transforming her into one of the most celebrated classical artists of the 20th century. That single recording of Elgar’s concerto has remained in print for decades and, for many listeners and musicians, stands as the definitive interpretation of the work.

Jacqueline du Pré

But to remember Jacqueline du Pré only for Elgar is to undervalue the breadth of her artistry. Though her career was tragically brief, curtailed by multiple sclerosis in her late twenties, she left behind a rich and varied discography spanning concertos, sonatas, and chamber music.

On the occasion of her birthday on 26 January, let’s explore Jacqueline du Pré’s artistry, which revealed the cello’s immense expressive range through her recordings of Brahms, Beethoven, Schumann, and Haydn.   

Breathing Life into Schumann

While Elgar remains the work most closely associated with her name, du Pré’s recorded output reveals a musician whose repertoire was both broad and engaging. And it is Robert Schumann’s Cello Concerto in A minor, Op. 129 that perhaps most closely aligns with du Pré’s romantic sensibility after Elgar.

Her recording, made with Daniel Barenboim conducting, captures the concerto’s sustained lyricism and conversational interplay between soloist and orchestra. Where some cellists approach Schumann with restrained elegance, du Pré brings a strong sense of emotional urgency.

Du Pré shapes phrases with a directness that turns inward moments of reflection and outward gestures of intensity into a single, continuous narrative. This approach gives the concerto a strong sense of forward momentum, making its episodic structure feel unified and purposeful rather than fragmented.

At the time, the concerto was still less frequently performed and recorded than it is today, and du Pré’s interpretation played a role in renewing interest in the work. It helped establish the concerto as a central part of the Romantic cello repertoire rather than a peripheral curiosity.   

Narrative and Nuance in Dvořák

Jacqueline du Pré © Alamy

One of the greatest concertos in the repertoire, Antonín Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, is rich in folk-like pathos and expansive thematic writing. And to be sure, du Pré’s recording with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Barenboim is another cornerstone of her discography.

Critics at the time and since have pointed to her warm, full-bodied tone, wide dynamic range, and instinctive grasp of the concerto’s large-scale structure. Rather than treating the work as a series of contrasting episodes, du Pré shapes it as a coherent narrative, allowing moments of lyric intimacy and heroic projection to grow naturally out of one another.

The result is a performance that many listeners and commentators continue to regard as both emotionally satisfying and artistically authoritative.

Recordings and filmed performances of this concerto still attract millions of listeners online, a testament not only to the enduring appeal of Dvořák’s music but also to du Pré’s ability to communicate it with uncommon immediacy and conviction.   

Smiling Vitality in Haydn

Du Pré’s concerto recordings were not limited to the core Romantic repertoire. Her performances of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major  demonstrate her capacity for joyful, elegant playing in the Classical era, where clarity of line and rhythmic buoyancy are paramount.

Rather than imposing Romantic weight on the music, du Pré brings a lightness of articulation and a natural sense of forward motion that allow Haydn’s wit and formal elegance to emerge clearly. Critics have often noted this stylistic flexibility.

Reviewing her Haydn performances, one commentator remarked that du Pré played with “a smiling vitality and unfussy grace,” showing that her musical personality was not limited to intensity alone.

Another described her approach as “fresh, buoyant, and direct,” praising the way she combined technical precision with an unaffected sense of joy. Du Pré herself resisted being typecast as a purely passionate or impulsive performer, and her Haydn recordings beautifully support this view.

Dialogue and Balance in Beethoven

Du Pré was not only a concerto soloist. She was also a consummate chamber musician and interpreter of intimate works. Her collaborations with pianist Daniel Barenboim, her husband from 1967, produced some of her most sensitive and revealing recordings.

In the realm of chamber music, du Pré’s recordings of Beethoven’s Piano Trios, Op. 70 Nos. 1 and 2, made with Daniel Barenboim and violinist Pinchas Zukerman, reveal an important side of her musicianship. Freed from the heroic projection demanded by concerto repertoire, du Pré demonstrates an instinctive understanding of balance, proportion, and musical conversation.

Her cello line is never dominant for its own sake. Instead, it is woven into the ensemble texture with a natural responsiveness that allows Beethoven’s contrapuntal writing to speak clearly.

Contemporary critics frequently remarked on the sense of equality among the players. One reviewer described the trio as performing with “the alertness of three soloists listening intently to one another,” noting that du Pré’s phrasing seemed shaped as much by what she heard from her colleagues as by her own musical impulses.

Intimate Conversations with Brahms

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

The cello sonatas of Johannes Brahms reveal another layer of du Pré’s artistry. With Barenboim at the piano, these recordings are celebrated for their tenderness and depth by casting Brahms’ rich harmonic writing in a beautifully introspective light.

Her ability to shape phrases with both power and subtlety made these sonatas stand out as profound musical conversations, highlighting du Pré’s emotional range and artistic maturity.

From the mellow lyricism of Brahms to the fiery dialogue of Beethoven, and from the introspective sorrow of Schumann to joyous and agile Haydn, Jacqueline du Pré’s recordings are more than technical achievements. They are testimonials for an intensely felt musical life lived with passion and authenticity.

Though her career was brief, the emotional power, technical brilliance and spirited communication of her playing ensure that Jacqueline du Pré remains not just a historical figure, but a living presence in the classical music world.

Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre: A Divided Life

 by Georg Predota  June 28th, 2015

Felicia Montealegre was a stunningly beautiful Chilean stage and television actress making her living in New York. Leonard Bernstein was the wonder boy of the American classical music scene, who had made his spectacular conducting debut with the New York Philharmonic. They met at a party hosted by pianist Claudio Arrau, with whom Montealegre had studied. They were engaged a few months later, but the engagement was broken off after less than a year. The reason for the break-up of the relationship was not a secret, as Bernstein’s homosexual proclivities were undisputed and well documented.

Leonard Bernstein and his wife Felicia Montealegre, 1959

During his Harvard years, Bernstein had affairs with famed conductor Dimitri Mitropoulos and the aspiring composer Aaron Copland. And during his visit to Israel in 1948, he fell in love with the young soldier Azariah Rapoport. Bernstein writes, “I can’t quite believe that I should have found all the things I’ve wanted rolled into one. It’s a hell of an experience – nerve-racking and guts tearing and wonderful. It’s changed everything.”

Felicia was fully aware of Leonard’s sexual preferences, but she nevertheless continued to pursue him over the next three years. And Bernstein was worried that his homosexual activities would prevent him from landing a major conducting appointment. The couple married in September 1951 with the clear understanding that as long as Lenny did not embarrass Felicia publically, he was free to pursue his homosexual affairs. Despite this obvious marriage of convenience, there was a good deal of love between them. Soon after their wedding, Felicia openly writes to her husband, “If I seemed sad as you drove away today it was not because I felt in any way deserted but because I was left alone to face myself and this whole bloody mess which is our “connubial” life. I’ve done a lot of thinking and have decided that it’s not such a mess after all. First: we are not committed to a life sentence—nothing is really irrevocable, not even marriage (though I used to think so). Second: you are a homosexual and may never change—you don’t admit to the possibility of a double life, but if your peace of mind, your health, your whole nervous system depends on a certain sexual pattern what can you do? Third: I am willing to accept you as you are, without being a martyr or sacrificing myself on the L.B. altar. (I happen to love you very much—this may be a disease and if it is what better cure?) Let’s try and see what happens if you are free to do as you like, but without guilt and confession, please! The feelings you have for me will be clearer and easier to express—our marriage is not based on passion but on tenderness and mutual respect.”

Leonard Bernstein with his wife Felicia and his children Jamie and Alexander

The couple had three children, which led to the assumption that Bernstein was bisexual. However, according to his collaborators in West Side Story, Bernstein was simply “a gay man who got married. He wasn’t conflicted about his sexual orientation at all. He was just gay.” As was customary at that time, Bernstein appeared a devoted husband and father in the public eye, while carrying on a promiscuous homosexual life behind the scenes. It might have been a customary to hide behind a public facade, but Bernstein certainly felt that his homosexuality was a curse. He even underwent psychoanalysis from a specialist “curing homosexual men of their inversion.”

In the end, the only cure was to publicly acknowledge his homosexuality, while taking out his frustrations on his wife. Apparently, Bernstein was having sex with a twenty-year old boy in the hallway while his wife was sitting in the living room. And when he met the young Tom Cothran in 1973, he allowed his wife to catch them in bed together. By 1976, Bernstein had left his wife for his latest male lover. The very next year, Felicia was diagnosed with lung cancer and Bernstein cared for her until her death in 1978. After Felicia’s death, Bernstein gave free reign to his addiction to alcohol and drugs, and engaged in openly crude homosexual activities. Yet, he always felt guilt over how his double life had adversely affected her. He eventually gave voice to his anguish in his 1983 opera A Quiet Place, sequel to his 1951 Trouble in Tahiti. As a close family friend once remarked, “Leonard required man sexually and women emotionally.”

The Tragedy and Trauma of Ravel’s Military Service

 by Emily E. Hogstad  January 28th, 2026

Nowadays, when we think of Maurice Ravel, we usually picture the elegance of Boléro, not the mud and chaos of the Western Front. But World War I had a major impact on Maurice Ravel’s life and music.

The Franco-Prussian War, the rise of Germany, and the tangled web of European alliances all conspired to pull France into battle in 1914…and Ravel, then nearing forty, was determined to serve in the conflict despite his small stature and frail health.

Maurice Ravel in 1916

Today, we’re looking at what he experienced and how the horror of war manifested in four of his best-known pieces.

How European Politics Sent Maurice Ravel to War

During the nineteenth century, France and Germany were competing for power and influence in Central Europe.

The Franco-Prussian War, fought between 1870 and 1871, ended in a humiliating loss for France and unification for Germany. An arms race gained speed, along with the race for cultural supremacy.

By the time Maurice Ravel was born in the spring of 1875, the French government was requiring all twenty-year-old men to serve in the military for three years.

However, in 1895, Ravel was so physically small and weak that he was rejected for “frailty.”

Fast forward two decades. In June 1914, Serbian nationalists, furious over oppression by the Austrian Empire, assassinated both Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife.

Franz Ferdinand was not minor royalty: he was the presumptive heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, and his death was a direct shot at the empire’s stability and continuity.

A mini documentary about the causes of World War I   

At the time, European countries were bound by a number of criss-crossing alliances. Austria wanted to respond to the assassination by declaring war on Serbia, and Austria was allied with Germany.

Meanwhile, Germany’s enemy, France, reaffirmed its own alliance with Russia, agreeing to fight with Serbia against Austria.

So to sum up, one side consisted of Austria, Germany, and its allies; the other consisted of France, Russia, Serbia, and its allies.

In the aftermath of the assassination, Austria issued a draconian ultimatum to the Serbs, which was rejected. Austria responded by declaring war on Serbia, and Austria’s ally Germany dutifully followed suit.

From there, the dominos kept falling. Germany also declared war on Russia. Then, in an attempt to avoid a two-front war, Germany tried to knock its old enemy, France, out of the conflict early by invading it, so it could focus on fighting Russia instead.

The seeds of World War I were rapidly sprouting.

The Race to Finish the A-Minor Piano Trio

Maurice Ravel

Ravel spent much of 1914 working on his piano trio in A-minor.

As the international situation deteriorated that summer and disaster appeared increasingly inevitable, he was struck by a new sense of urgency. He wrote in early August 1914, “I am working on the Trio with the sureness and lucidity of a madman.”

He told Stravinsky, “I have never worked with more insane, more heroic intensity.”

He intended to join the military to defend his homeland, and he was well aware he might not survive to see the piece’s premiere.

Working madly, he finished the trio – his potential musical epitaph – by the end of August. As a dark joke, he called it a “posthumous work.”   

The War Begins

Maurice Ravel in 1916

On 1 August 1914, an order for the mobilisation of French troops was issued, triggering the activation of three million French reservists between the ages of 24 and 38.

A quirk of the calendar meant that Maurice Ravel fell just outside that age limit (he had turned 39 in March).

He tried to enlist by joining the French Air Force, believing that his stature would prove handy in the small cockpits of early airplanes, but he was turned down due to his age, weight, and minor heart trouble.

It’s important to remember that aviation technology was in its infancy and deeply dangerous. According to one analysis, the average life expectancy of Canadian fighter pilots during the Great War was around eleven days. In effect, Ravel was volunteering for a suicide mission. Music lovers are lucky he was rejected for the job.

Instead of flying, Ravel decided to contribute to the war effort by volunteering on the home front, assisting wounded soldiers in Saint-Jean-de-Luz on the Bay of Biscay, just across the river from his birthplace, Ciboure.

Ravel Becomes a Military Driver

However, Ravel quickly came up with another plan.

Maurice’s engineer brother Edouard was serving as a military driver, and Maurice – always interested in the inner workings of machinery – found himself attracted to the idea of following in his brother’s footsteps. Maurice began taking daily driving lessons.

Finally, in March 1915, the month of his fortieth birthday, he joined the Army as a truck driver with the 13th Artillery Regiment.

Stravinsky noted, “At his age and with his name, he could have had an easier place, or done nothing.”

For about a year, Ravel was stationed in Paris repairing military vehicles, writing that this was “time spent being busy not doing very much.”

But in March 1916, he was sent to the front lines during the eleven-month-long battle of Verdun, which claimed an average of 70,000 lives a month.

Ravel’s job was to deliver supplies to the front, especially petrol. His truck (which he nicknamed Adélaïde) would often be loaded down with twice the recommended amount of cargo.

Ravel usually drove at night to avoid being seen. During the winter months, he had to wear a fur coat to have a hope of staying warm.

Ravel: Blacklisted?

In between all this, he remained in contact with what remnants of musical Paris were still active.

In 1916, a group of musicians headed by Vincent d’Indy, Théodore Dubois, and Camille Saint-Saëns founded the Ligue Nationale pour la Défense de la Musique Française (National League for the Defense of French Music).

D’Indy wrote that he wanted French music to “liberate itself from the German musical domination.” The group of influential musicians proposed blacklisting German and Austrian composers from concert programs.

This idea sat poorly with Ravel. In June 1916, he wrote to the group:

“I do not believe that to safeguard our national artistic heritage we must forbid performing German and Austrian works… It would even be dangerous for French composers to ignore systematically the works of their foreign colleagues, and form a sort of national coterie: our musical art, so rich at present, would soon degenerate, locking itself into stale formulas.”

Due to this stance, his own music – arguably the most recognisably French of its generation – was briefly blacklisted in certain Parisian music circles.

Wartime Illness and Grief

Maurice Ravel in uniform

Understandably, Ravel’s physical and mental health deteriorated over the course of the year.

Six months into his time at the front, he developed dysentery. He was forced to go on medical leave between October 1916 and January 1917.

Tragedy compounded in January 1917 when his beloved mother passed away.

The loss shattered him, especially on the heels of the deaths of so many of his friends and acquaintances in the trenches.

Pianist Marguerite Long (who had lost her own husband in the war) observed that Ravel was “depressed, thin, and suffering from neurasthenia.”

Due to his age and poor health, Ravel was discharged in June 1917. His dream – or nightmare – of military service was over.   

In April 1914, Ravel had begun Le Tombeau de Couperin, a suite for solo piano inspired by the work of French Baroque composer François Couperin.

Between 1915 and 1917, Ravel contributed bits and pieces to the score, but he only finished it after his discharge in 1917.

In the face of the losses of war, the work’s concept had taken on a deeper, more personal meaning.

Instead of celebrating French nationalism generally, Ravel dedicated each movement to specific dead friends. (The final movement was dedicated to Captain Joseph de Marliave, a musicologist and husband of pianist Marguerite Long, who gave the work’s premiere.)

Marguerite Long

These meditative pieces were light, airy, and beautifully constructed, with not a single extraneous note.

Ravel famously explained why he hadn’t written a more overtly tragic work: “The dead are sad enough in their eternal silence.”

The peerless elegance of the French tradition would serve as his friends’ musical epitaph.

The Lasting Impact of the War on Ravel

Maurice Ravel

Even after the Armistice was signed in November 1918, Ravel’s wartime experience continued to echo in his music.

Between 1919 and 1920, he wrote the dazzling ballet La Valse, which he described as “a sort of apotheosis of the Viennese waltz.”

What better way to process the destruction of the European order than by writing a waltz in which Austria’s national dance tears itself apart?

Ravel himself disavowed any connection between the war and La Valse, but many others read it differently.   

Later, in 1930, he wrote a Piano Concerto for the Left Hand for Paul Wittgenstein, an Austrian pianist who had lost his right arm in the war.

Put another way, just thirteen years after delivering munitions to the front, France’s leading composer wrote a piano concerto for a great Austrian pianist…who could have been hit by those same munitions.

It was a striking finale to Maurice Ravel’s tragic, traumatic, and deeply influential military service.

The 12 Best Olympic Figure Skating Routines to Classical Music

 by Emily E. Hogstad  January 26th, 2026

If you love classical music, chances are you might be interested in figure skating, given the prominent role the art plays in the sport.

For over a hundred years, skaters have skated to music, oftentimes classical music.

Although the International Skating Union began allowing the use of songs with lyrics in 2014, leading to a rise in skating programs performed to other musical genres, many skaters still use classical music today.

Here are twelve of the most famous routines performed to the most famous classical music.

Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean, 1984

Boléro by Maurice Ravel

Torvill & Dean Bolero – 1984 Olympic Winning Routine   

In 1984, skating to Ravel’s hypnotic orchestral showpiece Boléro, British skaters Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean became the first non-Russian ice dancers to ever win gold at the Olympics.

They scored a perfect set of 6.0s for artistic impression. This was the first (and last) time that feat was ever achieved in Olympic skating.

Their choreography included a sultry eighteen-second opening during which their skates didn’t touch the ice.

Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean

That opening is a result of two specific circumstances: the Olympic rulebook stating that no skating program could last longer than 4’10”, and their desire to use a particular 4’28” cut of Boléro.

As long as their skates didn’t touch the ice for those opening eighteen seconds, they were allowed to skate to the 4’28” cut.

Katarina Witt, 1988

Carmen by Georges Bizet

Katarina Witt (GDR) – 1988 Calgary, Figure Skating, Ladies’ Long Program (US ABC)   

Katarina Witt’s fiery interpretation of Bizet’s operatic heroine Carmen is delightful.

The middle portion of her long program doesn’t even have much skating in it at all. Rather, Witt used a combination of dazzling footwork and her acting ability to embody Carmen.

Her charismatic flair and technical aptitude in this program resulted in her second Olympic gold medal. She is the only modern women’s singles skater to ever win gold twice.

Michelle Kwan, 1998

Lyra Angelica by William Alwyn

Michelle Kwan Figure Skating to “Lyra Angelica” at Nagano 1998 | Music Monday   

In 1998, Michelle Kwan skated to a little-known harp concerto by British composer William Alwyn.

The result was an ethereal program that showcased the 17-year-old skater’s grace and maturity.

Though newcomer Tara Lipinski won the gold that year, this program was one of the many high points of Kwan’s long and starry career.

Sarah Hughes, 2002

Daphnis et Chloe by Maurice Ravel and Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini by Sergei Rachmaninoff

Sarah Hughes (USA) – 2002 Salt Lake City, Figure Skating, Ladies’ Free Skate   

Sarah Hughes came into Salt Lake City as an underdog; Michelle Kwan was favoured to win gold that year.

But in her free skate, Hughes threw down the gauntlet with her Ravel program, full of triple jumps, balletic grace, and irrepressible joy. Her scream of excitement at 4:50 at having nailed her jumping pass is especially adorable!

Sarah Hughes

This performance, as well as missteps by her competitors, resulted in her winning the gold medal.

Yuna Kim, 2010

Piano Concerto by George Gershwin

Yuna Kim – Free Skate – Ladies’ Figure Skating | Vancouver 2010   

Inspired by Michelle Kwan, Korean skater Yuna Kim, born in 1990, became one of the great skaters of her generation.

At the Vancouver Olympics in 2010, she skated her free program to Gershwin’s jazzy piano concerto in F-major. She gave a masterclass in technique, landing jump after jump with a sleek and sassy panache.

She shattered the world record and brought South Korea its first Olympic figure skating gold. Gershwin’s music was a perfect accompaniment to her triumph.

Evan Lysacek, 2010

Scheherezade by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov

Evan Lysacek 2010 Vancouver free skate | Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade   

American skater Evan Lysacek’s 2010 Olympic free skate was to Rimsky-Korsakov’s gloriously dramatic orchestral suite Scheherezade.

At the time, Lysacek was plagued by injury and forced to rely on less valuable triple jumps instead of quadruple jumps. He needed to nail all of his jumps just to have a chance at the gold.

Even with his reduced technical content, he ended up winning gold: a testament to how artistry and a skater’s connection to the music can help secure a medal.

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, 2010

Symphony No. 5 by Gustav Mahler

Tessa Virtue & Scott Moir FD 2010 Vancouver Olympics (Symphony No.5 by Gustav Mahler)   

At their 2010 Olympic debut in Vancouver, Canadian ice dancers Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir chose to skate to the bittersweet Adagietto from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.

Their free dance, with its soft and seamless quality of movement, radiated romantic intensity.

Their home crowd received them rapturously, and so did the judges. They became the first North American couple to ever win Olympic gold in ice dance.

They would go on to win gold again in 2018, as well as silver at the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

Yulia Lipnitskaya, 2014

Schindler’s List soundtrack by John Williams

Yulia Lipnitskaya’s Phenomenal Free Program – Team Figure Skating | Sochi 2014 Winter Olympics   

At just fifteen years of age, Yulia Lipnitskaya shot to international stardom while skating to John Williams’ haunting score to Schindler’s List.

Her performance in her trademark red dress (a callback to the film) became the emotional centerpiece of Russia’s team gold medal.

Even today, this program remains one of the most memorable of the Sochi Games.

Tragically, Lipnitskaya’s career was brief, in no small part to her abusive coach Eteri Tutberidze (who, eight years later, would become internationally infamous for her treatment of Kamila Valieva, another fifteen-year-old wunderkind who tested positive for doping).

Mao Asada, 2014

Piano Concerto No. 2 by Sergei Rachmaninoff

Mao Asada skates to Sergei Rachmaninoff in Sochi 2014 | Music Monday   

After a disastrous short program that saw her place a devastating sixteenth, Japanese skater Mao Asada returned with a free skate for the ages at the 2014 Sochi Olympics.

Landing an astonishing eight triple jumps (including two triple axels, the most difficult jump regularly performed at that time), she demonstrated her raw athleticism and fierce grace to excerpts from Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto.

Mao Asada

Although she missed the Olympic podium because of her short program, her free skate is remembered today as a triumph of resilience and artistry.

Alina Zagitova, 2018

Don Quixote by Leon Minkus

Alina Zagitova (OAR) – Gold Medal | Women’s Free Skating | PyeongChang 2018   

At just fifteen, Russian skater Alina Zagitova (coached by Eteri Tutberidze) unveiled a clever program strategy: saving her jumps for the second half to maximise bonus points.

This made her program feel like a ballet showpiece, and she used classical music to match: the work of nineteenth-century Austrian ballet composer Leon Minkus.

At the Olympics, her performance ended up securing Russia another gold medal in women’s singles skating.

After this music and choreography, the International Skating Union instituted what became known as the Zagitova Rule: i.e., skaters can no longer backload all of their jumps to the end of a program to get bonus points.

Yuzuru Hanyu, 2018

Ballade No. 1 by Frederic Chopin

Yuzuru Hanyu performs to Chopin’s Ballade No 1 at PyeongChang 2018 | Music Monday   

Yuzuru Hanyu is widely considered to be the most artistic men’s singles skater of the modern era.

Already a legend after winning the gold medal in Sochi in 2014, Hanyu defended his Olympic title in 2018 with this masterful short program.

Yuzuru Hanyu

Every jump and spin seems to emerge from Chopin’s score organically. It’s a perfect marriage of movement and music.

This program helped make Hanyu the first man in decades to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals.

Isabeau Levito, 2022

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns

Isabeau Levito performs “The Swan” by Joshua Bell    

We’re cheating a bit with this one because it’s a skate from the National Championship in 2022 rather than the Olympics, but it’s a preview of a skater we can expect to see at the 2026 Olympics.

A rising star of U.S. skating in 2022, Isabeau Levito enchanted audiences with Saint-Saëns’ lyrical Swan from the Carnival of the Animals.

Just fourteen years old, she skated with a fluid grace beyond her years, with commentators comparing her to a ballerina.

The program marked her as one to watch on the world stage.

This season, she’s one of the three American women skaters most likely to represent America at the 2026 Olympic Games in Milan. However, as the saying goes, ice is slippery… You’ll have to tune in to see if she ended up making the team!

Conclusion

For generations now, classical music has been an indispensable part of the sport of figure skating.

Each of these programs showcases the magic that can happen when an athlete and the music are truly in sync.

As you watch the 2026 Olympic Games (6-19 February), keep an eye and an ear out for familiar classical music. What you hear might surprise you!