12 Forgotten Women Composers from the Classical Era

 by Emily E. Hogstad  April 11th, 2026

The Classical Era lasted roughly between 1730 and 1820. Most people know the marquee names of the era: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, etc. However, their colleagues included dozens of gifted women composers who were also writing symphonies, concertos, and chamber works right alongside them.

Their names may be obscure today, but that’s not because of the quality of their music. Rather, it’s because women were so rarely given the chance to publish or perform on equal footing with men.

Today, we’re looking at twelve unjustly forgotten women composers who were born in the Classical Era.

Marianna Martines (1744–1812)

Martines’s Symphony in C Major  

Marianna Martines was born in Vienna in 1744 to the Pope’s representative in Austria and his wife.

Her father’s friend, the great author Metastasio, lived with them in a large apartment. (For a while, the attic of the building was rented out to Joseph Haydn.)

Marianna Martines

Thanks to her connections, she received a first-rate musical education and became a favourite of Empress Maria Theresa.

She was a talented harpsichordist, singer, and composer. She wrote oratorios, masses, cantatas, keyboard sonatas, and more.

Maddalena Laura Lombardini Sirmen (1745–1818)   

Maddalena Laura Lombardini was born in Venice in 1745 to impoverished nobility.

Her parents sent their musically talented daughter to study at the San Lazzaro dei Mendicanti. While there, she traveled to take lessons with Giuseppe Tartini, one of the most renowned violin virtuosos of his generation.

In 1767, she married fellow violinist Ludovico Sirmen. The two toured and even co-wrote concertos together.

Maddalena Laura Lombardini Sirmen

She wrote six violin concertos around the same time as Mozart was writing his set of five, and she was also one of the first composers, male or female, to write for the string quartet.

Learn thirteen facts about Maddalena Laura Lombardini Sirmen’s life and music.

Juliane Reichardt (1752–1783)   

Juliane Benda was born to a musical family in Potsdam in 1752. Her father was the concertmaster at the court of Frederick the Great, and he was her first music teacher.

Their suburban house was a popular stopping point for traveling musicians. In 1776, after meeting writer and composer Johann Friedrich Reichardt during his visit to the house, Juliane married him.

They had three children together, including a daughter named Louise, who would go on to become a well-known composer herself.

Louise Reichardt © zkm.de

Juliane died tragically young at the age of thirty. She came down with an infection after the birth of her youngest baby.

She’d continued composing through her marriage and pregnancies, and at the time of her death was at the height of her career and creative power.

Francesca Lebrun (1756–1791)   

Francesca Danzi Lebrun was born in 1756 in Mannheim, the daughter of an Italian cellist and dancer. There were a number of professional musicians in her family.

She made her debut when she was sixteen and was promptly hired by the Mannheim Opera as well as the court opera.

In 1778, when she was twenty-three, she married oboist and composer Ludwig August Lebrun. She began to tour with him, and they lived together in England between 1779 and 1781.

Francesca Lebrun

It was said that when they performed together, it was impossible to tell what sound was coming from the oboe and what sound was coming from her.

She had two daughters. Both became musicians themselves. Tragically, Francesca died at the age of 35.

Marianna Auenbrugger (1759–1782)   

Marianna Auenbrugger was born in July 1759 in Vienna, the daughter of renowned physician Leopold Auenbrugger, who invented percussion diagnosis (i.e., the practice of tapping on a patient and listening to assess their condition).

She and her sister studied with both Antonio Salieri and Joseph Haydn. In 1780, Haydn dedicated a set of six sonatas to the Auenbrugger sisters as a token of his admiration.

Leopold and Marianna Auenbrugger

Marianna died young at the age of 23. Salieri published her keyboard sonata at his own expense so that it could be preserved and distributed.

María Rosa Coccia (1759–1833)   

Maria Rosa Coccia was born in Rome in 1759. She was a child prodigy who by the age of thirteen had produced an oratorio and multiple keyboard sonatas.

Musicians practising in Rome were required by Papal decree to attend the Accademia di Santa Cecilia and pass an exam to become a Maestro di Capella.

María Rosa Coccia

Coccia did so. She became maestra di cappella at Congregazione di Santa Cecilia when she was just fifteen.

A few years later, she accepted the same post at the Accademia Filarmonica di Bologna.

The fact that she acquired the title of Maestro di Capella set off a firestorm of controversy. Her work during the exam was criticised. Metastasio (Mariana Martines’s family friend and teacher) and composer Giovanni Battista Martini stood up for her.

Hélène de Montgeroult (1764–1836)   

Hélène de Nervo was born in 1764 to a recently ennobled family from Nice.

As a child, she lived in Paris, where she took piano lessons from Jan Ladislav Dussek. (She may also have studied with Muzio Clementi.)

When she was 21, she married the Marquis de Montgeroult. The couple believed in a constitutional monarchy, but were in danger during the Revolution.

Hélène de Montgeroult

In 1793, while traveling to Italy with a diplomat friend, they were overtaken by Austrian troops, and her husband died in Austrian custody.

She lived a hugely colourful life even after the Revolution, married again (twice), had a son, composed extensively, and opened an influential salon.

It is believed that her etudes may have influenced Chopin and Schumann’s.

Isabella Colbran (1785–1845)

Isabella Colbran

Isabella Colbran was born in Madrid in 1785 to the head court musician and his wife. She began studying music as a child, with the best teachers, and made her operatic debut in Paris when she was just sixteen.

She was famous for her three-octave range and affinity for tragic roles.

She became the mistress of famous opera impresario Domenico Barbaia, then fell in love with Gioachino Rossini, who was seven years her junior. Her voice inspired a number of his greatest operas.

Their marriage was a tragic one for a number of reasons, including the fact that he gave her the gonorrhoea that ultimately killed her.

In between her operatic triumphs, she composed a number of songs that she dedicated to her royal patrons.

Marie Bigot (1786–1820)   

Marie Bigot was born in 1786 in Alsace. We don’t know much about her childhood, but we know that she was clearly musically talented.

She married in 1804, and the couple moved to Vienna. Her husband took a job as the librarian for Count Razumovsky, one of Beethoven’s patrons.

Marie Bigot

While in Vienna, her salon became a popular stop for various great musicians. Haydn once praised her effusively after she played one of his works for him: “My dear child,” he said, “I did not write this music – it is you who has composed it!”

Beethoven was also a fan of Bigot’s playing and her musical judgment. She was the first person he played his Appassionata Sonata for.

In 1816, she gave piano lessons to the young Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn, providing a fascinating direct link between Beethoven and Mendelssohn.

She died a few years later of tuberculosis.

Caroline Boissier-Butini (1786–1836)   

Caroline Boissier was born in Geneva in 1786. Her family was not musical, but her father supported her unconditionally.

We don’t even know who her teacher was, or how self-taught she was, but she played piano and composed.

Caroline Boissier-Butini

She married an amateur violinist, Auguste Boissier, when she was 22. She had two children with him.

Over the course of her life, she wrote a large amount of music, including six piano concertos. She continued her piano studies for the rest of her life.

Maria Szymanowska (1789–1831)   

Maria Szymanowska was born in Warsaw in 1789 to a landlord/brewer and his noble-born wife.

We don’t know who taught her when she was a girl, but we believe she studied composition with Józef Elsner, who would go on to teach Chopin.

Maria Szymanowska

She made her debut in Warsaw and Paris in 1810, the year she turned 21.

She was married that same year and eventually gave birth to a daughter and a set of twins. Unfortunately, her marriage was unhappy, and she and her husband parted ways in 1820.

Unusually for the time, she spent much of her marriage touring, composing, and devoting herself to her musical career.

In the late 1820s, she moved to St. Petersburg, where she became the court pianist to the Empress of Russia, Alexandra Feodorovna.

Tragically, Szymanowska died during the 1831 cholera epidemic.

Marianna Bottini (1802 –1858)   

Marianna Motroni-Andreozzi was born in Lucca, Italy, in 1802 to a noble family.

She studied music as a child; in fact, most of her music that survives dates to her teens. That output includes motets, symphonies, sacred music, a piano concerto, a clarinet concerto, and an opera.

Her fame grew, and in 1820, she was admitted to the Accademia Filarmonica in Bologna as an “honorary master composer.”

Marianna Bottini

Unfortunately, she stopped composing in 1823, when she married a prominent politician, the Marquis Lorenzo Bottini.

That said, she continued to be passionate about music, working with her harpist mother-in-law to catalogue and preserve their joint music collection.

Conclusion

Taken together, these women’s biographies can help us rethink who the composers in the Classical Era actually were.

As more of their music is recorded and performed, the legacy of these forgotten women composers will hopefully grow clearer.

Listening to their works is a wonderful reminder that classical music has always included extraordinary now-forgotten women whose creativity – happily – still survives to this day.

Who is your favourite woman composer from the Classical Era?

The world of Beethoven is stunning enough

 

The world of Beethoven is stunning enough......but this ladiy's piano playing is out of this world! Piano Concerto No. 4, Op. 58 by Ludwig van Beethoven is beautifully interpreted by Hélène Grimaud with the Orchestre de Paris under Christoph Eschenbach. Her playing is poetic and introspective, blending delicacy with depth, while the orchestra provides a rich, expressive backdrop of lyrical strength.

https://www.ganjingworld.com/s/Q83YNV6xmv

Sabine Meyer (Born on March 30, 1959) & Mozart Rediscovering the Clarinet Concerto

 by Georg Predota  March 30th, 2026

Born on 30 March 1959 in the rolling hills of southern Germany, Sabine Meyer grew up in a family dedicated to the clarinet. Her grandfather, her father, and her older brother all played the clarinet, and by the age of eight, she made the instrument her own.

As she later recalled, “The modulation of the sound, playing with your breath… right from the start I had the feeling: That’s my instrument.” And she was incredibly talented, making her professional debut at the age of sixteen and accepting an invitation from Herbert von Karajan to join the Berlin Philharmonic at twenty-three.

Sabine Meyer

The appointment caused a sensation and met with plenty of resistance from some colleagues, and after a brief period of orchestral playing, she embarked on a glittering international career as a soloist.

On the occasion of Sabine Meyer’s birthday, let us explore her lifelong love affair with Mozart, and specifically with the Clarinet Concerto K. 622.   

Unrivalled Masterpiece

Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, KV 622 music score

In an interview, Meyer called the Mozart Clarinet Concerto “the best composition ever written for a wind instrument. Everything else pales in insignificance beside it. The concerto lives alongside me. It is incredibly deep and rich in expression, colour, and compositional ideas.” (Schwarz, Bachtrack, 2018)

Meyer finds in Mozart’s works a remarkable inner richness. Although the surface unfolds gracefully and seemingly effortlessly, Mozart reveals an incredible depth of expression. Economy and elegance are ever-present, but Mozart is able to say profound things in the most natural and unforced way.

With Mozart, every melodic line carries emotional weight, and the interaction between soloist and orchestra feels perfectly balanced. For Meyer, no other wind-instrument composition comes close to this level of perfection in blending emotional profundity with pure beauty.   

Basset Clarinet

Silhouette of Anton Stadler

Mozart composed the Clarinet Concerto for Anton Stadler and for the basset clarinet. Yet, for much of its history, it has been performed on the modern instrument. The basset clarinet is essentially an extended version of the soprano clarinet featuring additional keys that extend the lower range down a major third.

And according to Meyer, it is the only instrument that should be exclusively used. “The work was composed for a basset clarinet, and today we know much more about its history and original version than 40 years ago.”

“Of course, you can play it on the flute or viola or even on a normal A clarinet. But those are adaptations, and these instruments don’t have the astounding range of the basset clarinet which Mozart explicitly used in his concerto.” (Schwarz, Bachtrack, 2018)  

No Compromise

Sabine Meyer © Christian Ruvolo

In an earlier interview with Bruce Duffie, Sabine Meyer and her husband Reiner forcefully argued for the use of the basset clarinet. “You have to use the basset clarinet as it is the original instrument for this concerto… This is what Mozart wanted.”

Asked if it was wrong to use the standard clarinet, she answered resoundingly yes. Her husband explained in more detail. “You should imagine a pianist who plays a Mozart concerto on a piano that has four tones missing.”

“For any Mozart Concerto, it is impossible. No one would do it, but it has been done to the Clarinet Concerto for nearly two hundred years. I don’t think anybody should play it on a normal clarinet with orchestra, but students and music schools must do it because it’s very expensive to buy a basset clarinet for only this one piece.” (Duffie, Sabine Meyer, 1994)   

The Perfect Union

Basset clarinet by Anton Stadler 1789 (sketch) with replica

The combination of Sabine Meyer and the basset clarinet provides a compelling interpretation of Mozart’s clarinet masterpiece. The instrument restores Mozart’s original intentions and allows every passage to flow naturally without transpositions.

Because the lower range is extended, we hear a darker and more velvety tone that produces a richer palette of colours. Some critics have suggested that those low passages now descend with natural elegance, giving the music a more satisfying architectural shape.

Once you combine Meyer’s refined artistry with the authentic sound of the basset clarinet, you are treated to a new listening experience. I would suggest that this combination produces an intuitive understanding of the concerto’s true character.

Best Yuja Wang

 I will say this upfront, as a pianist who knows exactly how hard this instrument can bite. Yuja Wang is a miracle! She is both an inspiration and a delightful menace. She raises the bar so high, it feels almost unfair.

Some pianists impress you. Some intimidate you. Some make you want to practice. Yuja Wang does something far more dangerous. She makes you believe, just for a second, that the piano might be capable of flight. Then she laughs, changes shoes, and proves it again.

Yuja Wang

To hear Yuja play is to witness total command without a trace of heaviness. Her fingers are so impossibly fast that your eyes can’t follow. And it’s all fearlessly clear and comes with ease as notes sparkle, dart, tease, explode, and vanish.

Classical music has long suffered from performers who behave as if joy were somehow unprofessional. Yuja Wang is the antidote. She smiles at the keyboard. She dares. She risks. She throws off ten encores like confetti and somehow makes each one feel like a gift.

Talking about encores, to celebrate her birthday on 10 February, let’s listen to her most jaw-dropping encores, explosions of adrenaline, personality, joy and irresistible brilliance.  

Blink and You’ll Miss It

Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” in the arrangement of Cziffra lands like a perfectly timed firework. It’s short, explosive, and utterly irresistible. In fact, it’s a full-blown adrenaline rush.

The piano under her hands doesn’t buzz so much as ignites, flashing past in a blur of precision, speed, and wicked delight.

But it’s not just the incredible velocity that makes this a truly jaw-dropping encore. It’s Yuja’s control that is out of this world. Every note is clean, every accent alive, and every phrase shaped with a wink. How on earth can she make something so ferocious sound so joyful?   

Mozart Meets Modern Fireworks

Yuja Wang takes Mozart’s “Alla Turca” and gleefully rockets it out of the 18th century and straight into now. What starts as a familiar classical wink suddenly sparkles, swerves and struts with crisp elegance, colliding with high-octane brilliance.

And if you’re wondering what magic potion she’s using, the arrangement itself feels like a delicious hybrid. It’s a mischievous mash-up of Arcadi Volodos’ pianist extravagance and Fazil Say’s jazzy bite.

Both are filtered through Yuja’s own fearless instinct, with the result that Mozart becomes part jazz club and part keyboard acrobat. It’s utterly alive, Mozart with lipstick, sneakers, and bursting fireworks.

Where Stillness Turns Electric

Yuja Wang

After fireworks and bravura in the main concert, Yuja Wang occasionally turns to something hypnotic in her encore. Just listen to how Philip Glass’ “Etude No. 6” is taking over the room. The steady pulse begins almost innocently, and then, without warning, it transforms.

Repetition becomes propulsion, and simplicity turns into pure electricity. Every return of the loop feels newly charged, all nudged forward with razor-sharp rhythm and luminous clarity.

As an encore, it’s genius. This is a different kind of thrill; it’s cool, focused, and irresistible. You feel the pulse in your chest, the precision in your bones, and suddenly the hall is vibrating with the quiet, unstoppable confidence of modern music played by someone who absolutely owns it.  

Turbocharged Tea for Two

When Yuja Wang launches into “Tea for Two,” the piano becomes a playground of swing, sparkle, and sheer joy. Inspired by Art Tatum’s legendary jazz arrangements, she takes this familiar tune and turns it into a whirlwind of dazzling runs and playful flourishes.

Every phrase seems to giggle and wink at the audience. It’s not just an encore but a celebration. Let’s call it a little surprise that lifts the hall into laughter and applause.

Everything is effortless: the tricky leaps, the double-note passages, and the rapid-fire ornaments. It basically is unbelievable, as Yuja Wang rolls speed, clarity, and sheer brilliance all into one.  

Rocket-Powered Virtuosity

When Yuja Wang dives into Kapustin’s “Toccatina,” she turns the piano into a dazzling jazz-fuelled rocket ship. Yuja attacks this mischievous whirlwind, part classical precision and part big-band swagger, with that signature fearless confidence.

There is plenty of blinding speed and a blizzard of notes, and Yuja Wang brings sheer personality to every measure. Those dizzying runs don’t just fly; they dance, laugh, and flirt.

This is pure joy, reckless brilliance, and rhythmic exhilaration all wrapped into one ridiculously entertaining encore. Those tricky rhythmic twists trip me up every time, but Yuja makes it gleam like polished crystal.   

Polka Rocket

If virtuosity had a theme song, Yuja Wang would be playing it at full throttle on a grand piano. Just listen to her attack the Cziffra arrangement of Strauss’ “Tritsch-Tratsch Polka.” This isn’t a polka, it’s rock-fuelled finger gymnastics.

Every rapid-fire scale, cascading arpeggio, and whirlwind octave is executed with a precision that makes your jaw drop. She spins Cziffra’s mercilessly difficult passagework with the same ease that a cat might chase a laser pointer.

The almost absurdly difficult technical foundation is made seemingly effortless. By the final barrelling chords, you’re certainly not hearing a polka. You’re riding a rollercoaster designed by a piano wizard where exhilaration is mandatory.   

Melody in Bloom

Yuja Wang

Yuja Wang’s take on Gluck’s Melodie from Orfeo ed Euridice (arranged by Sgambati) is like stepping into a sunlit garden of sound. What makes this encore so enchanting is how it contrasts with the firecracker pyrotechnics we usually associate with her.

This encore just delicately floats, with each phrase shaped by a singer’s breath and a painter’s eye for nuance. And with that subtle pedal work that lets the harmonies shimmer underneath, the whole piece just starts to glow.

Here, it’s all about touch, tone and whispered elegance. Yuja caresses each note, letting every delicate turn of the melody bloom. If you really needed proof that Yuja isn’t all about speed and power, this encore showcases her exquisite musicality in every shimmering phrase.  

Horowitz Showstopper

If you’re looking for a whirlwind in a flamenco dress, look no further than Yuja Wang attacking Horowitz’s “Carmen Fantasy Variations.” It’s fiery, dazzling, and absolutely irresistible.

Each variation bursts with personality. One moment it’s a playful flirt, the next a sultry smoulder, and then suddenly she’s launching into a thunderous cascade of scales and arpeggios that leave you breathless.

It’s pure pyrotechnics, but with Yuja, there’s never a sense of chaos, as every blazing run and daring leap is impeccably shaped and perfectly timed. Her touch is electric, and she takes us on a thrilling and utterly exuberant ride through Bizet, Horowitz, and her own unstoppable personality. 

 

From Counterpoint to Confetti

Here is an encore that Yuja doesn’t play all the time, and it’s not so easy to get good footage of it. However, this Katsaris piano paraphrase of Bach’s “Badinerie” is exactly what Yuja ordered.

In the original, it’s already a cheeky and sprightly dance full of twirls and infectious energy. In Katsaris’s arrangement, however, the infectious spirit is out of this world. Every phrase is packed with tiny virtuosic flourishes, surprising little detours, and sparkling commentary that feels like musical confetti.

And then Yuja steps in, and it feels like a burst of personality. Her rhythmic zing and tonal sparkle bring out the humour and brilliance in Bach’s counterpoint, letting every nimble twist shine. By the time she’s finished, it’s less a performance and more a joyous celebration with a distinctly modern and joyful twist.   

Desert Moon Dance Party

For another novel encore, let’s turn to Yuja Wang’s take on “Danzón No. 2” by Arturo Márquez. This sizzling orchestral showpiece has been cleverly reimagined for solo piano by Leticia Gómez Tagle. And under Yuja’s fingers, it becomes an irresistibly sultry dance party under a desert moon.

From the very first syncopated accents, Yuja brings out the seductive rhythmic flair, her fingers teasing and flirting with the melody like a dancer drawing you into the floor.

The way she balances rhythmic excitement with expressive nuance gives the piano version both the heartbeat of the dance and the sparkle of a showpiece. What can I say? It’s full of flirtatious flair, sparkling fingers, and irresistible joy.

Fingers on Fire

Yuja Wang

How about concluding this blog with a lightning bolt, taking a bow? That’s what’s happening when Yuja Wang attacks Prokofiev’s “Toccata.” Her fingers fly with a kind of joyful fearlessness, rapid-fire scales and cascading octaves included.

Every percussive blast is landing with dazzling precision. But here’s the magic. It’s not just a technical tour de force, but even in the midst of this relentless energy, every note sings. Her hands are literally everywhere at once, yet nothing sounds cluttered or mechanical.

I just feel a sense of giddy exhilaration, the kind of thrill that makes you grin and hold your breath at the same time. This is virtuosity that doesn’t just impress the brain. It sweeps the soul along, turning blistering technique into pure musical storytelling.

Whirlwind of Wonder

Yuja Wang doesn’t just play encores. She creates joy, she redefines possibilities, and she reminds us that the piano can dance, soar, and even flirt with the sky.

To love Yuja Wang’s playing is to love risk, brilliance, humour, glamour, and precision, all wrapped into one fearless artist who walks onstage as if she belongs there completely.

But here is the truth. After all the fireworks, the flirts, the sparkling confetti of scales, runs, and octaves, you realise you’ve witnessed more than an encore marathon.

We’ve glimpsed the essence of Yuja Wang. She is a whirlwind of brilliance, bravura, and unabashed delight. And honestly? I can’t wait to see what she’ll throw at the keys next.

Artistic Partner: Mahler Chamber Orchestra

Pianist Yuja Wang is celebrated for her charismatic artistry, emotional honesty and captivating stage presence. She has performed with the world’s most venerated conductors, musicians and ensembles, and is renowned not only for her virtuosity, but her spontaneous and lively performances, famously telling the New York Times “I firmly believe every program should have its own life, and be a representation of how I feel at the moment.”

Yuja was born into a musical family and began studying the piano at the age of six. She received advanced training in Canada and at the Curtis Institute of Music under Gary Graffman. Her international breakthrough came in 2007, when she replaced Martha Argerich as soloist with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Two years later, she signed an exclusive contract with Deutsche Grammophon and has since established her place among the world’s leading artists, with a succession of critically acclaimed performances and albums. Her recordings have garnered multiple awards, including five Grammy nominations and her first Grammy win for Best Classical Instrumental Solo with her 2023 release of “The American Project”. For this she also won an Opus Klassik award in the Concerto category. 

Recent projects include a collaborative project with David Hockney at London’s Lightroom, play-direct tours with the Mahler Chamber to Europe and South America, an international duo recital tour with pianist Vikingur Olafsson and a residency with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

The 2025/26 season will see Yuja open the seasons of many major US Orchestras including the San Francisco Symphony, The Philadelphia Orchestra and at Carnegie Hall where she will play-direct the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1. Among her orchestral performances, she will embark on a major European tour with the Swedish Radio Orchestra. Other orchestral appearances this season include performances with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, the New York Philharmonic, The Cleveland Orchestra, and the Rotterdam Philharmonic. Her play directing continues with tours with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra to Spain and the US and she will give a recital tour throughout Asia. In November 2025, Playing with Fire: An immersive odyssey with Yuja Wang will open at the Paris Philharmonie. This groundbreaking, multi-sensory installation will take visitors behind the scenes and offer a rare perspective on the emotion and artistry behind Yuja’s performances.

Heartstopping Memory Lapses From Classical Music History

by Emily E. Hogstad  March 29th, 2026

Even the greatest classical musicians – those renowned the world over for their superhuman discipline and focus – have moments when everything just goes blank.

In an era when memorisation is seen as a prerequisite for performing, memory lapses have destroyed confidence and ended careers.

However, these mistakes also highlight the humanity of the musicians who made them…and will hopefully make you feel a little less alone every time you step onstage yourself!

Adelina de Lara, ca. 1907

Adelina de Lara

Adelina de Lara was a British pianist born in 1872. Although she is forgotten today, she led a colourful life and career.

In 1955, at the age of 83, she published a remarkably frank memoir called Finale.

In it, she discusses a life-changing memory lapse that traumatised her so badly that she refused to play concertos again for decades afterwards.

She was performing the Robert Schumann piano concerto with conductor Landon Ronald in Birmingham. (The exact date of the concert is unclear, but it would have been sometime around 1907.)

The morning of the concert, Landon told her that she was playing “splendidly” and that he was looking forward to the concert.

He then made a fateful throwaway remark: “The last three times I have conducted the Schumann concerto, the pianist’s memory has failed during the performance!”  

De Lara immediately had a physical reaction. The way she describes it sounds like what we might call a panic attack today: chills, weak knees, an adrenaline rush, and a sudden inability to concentrate.

As she’d recount in her book decades later:

“I played the second movement and began the third. I was making fine progress; Landon was conducting superbly. And then, at the repetition of the brilliant third subject — it happened! I played a phrase with both hands an octave lower than it is written. Only one bar — but I lost my head. It put me right out — panic seized me.”

Landon stopped the orchestra. She rushed backstage and burst into tears. Nobody came to check on her. She was scheduled to play solo works by Chopin after the intermission, but she was so horrified she fled to her hotel instead.

She wrote in her memoir:

“It was the worst thing I could have done. I blamed only myself, but after all these years, other musicians have told me Landon was to blame. He should have gone on directing the orchestra, and I could have come in again.”

She returned to her home in London the next day. Her partner asked what had happened. After she explained, he told her the memory slip wasn’t the problem; it was the fact that she hadn’t gone back to try a second time. In response, she declared that she’d never play another concerto again.

Adelina de Lara ended up having a nervous breakdown over the event. And true to her word, she didn’t accept a single concerto invitation for 27 years afterwards.

Still, she had regrets:

“Only when I did at last play successfully the Schumann Concerto from memory with Claud Powell, conductor of the Guildford Symphony Orchestra, did I write to Landon and tell him. It was a few years before his death. This letter shows how foolish I had been to let my nerves get the better of me for so long. If only I had had it sooner!”  

Olga Samaroff, 1917

Olga Samaroff and Leopold Stokowski

Pianist Olga Samaroff – the exotic stage name of American pianist Lucy Hickenlooper – made a disastrous early marriage to a wealthy Russian man in 1900. He forced her to give up her performing career, which was just taking off at the time.

Four years later, she left him and sailed back to America to reinvent herself as a piano soloist. Her hard work paid off, and she became a prominent pianist in both the United States and Europe.

Around 1905, she met the organist and choirmaster at St. Bartholomew’s Church in New York City, a man by the name of Leopold Stokowski. She liked him and pulled strings to help get him the music directorship at the Cincinnati Symphony, which assured his American career.

They ended up marrying in 1911. In June 1912, Stokowski was hired to become the music director of the Philadelphia Orchestra, a post he would retain for decades.

Although Samaroff cut back somewhat on her concert career after the wedding, they did still enjoy performing together, with Stokowski on the podium and Samaroff at the piano.   

Unfortunately, their marriage ran into trouble quickly. Stokowski was terminally unfaithful to Samaroff. World War I was difficult on both of them, given their sympathy for German musical culture. Minor irritations grew more heated, and they started hating the sound of hearing the other practice.

The marital tension came to a head in January 1917, when Samaroff had a major memory lapse in Pittsburgh while on tour with the Philadelphia Orchestra and Stokowski. It was so severe that she was forced to stop and walk backstage to collect herself.

A few months later, she, like Adelina de Lara, had a mental breakdown over it. But she was able to rally and returned to the concert stage before the end of the year. And in 1923, she divorced Stokowski.

Josef Hassid, 1940

Josef Hassid

Josef Hassid, born in 1923 in Poland, is widely considered to be one of the greatest violinists to have ever lived.

In 1935, the year he turned twelve, he competed in a legendary year of the Henryk Wieniawski Violin Competition. His fellow competitors included violin giants Ginette Neveu and David Oistrakh.

While competing, he suffered a memory lapse. However, he was extended grace and allowed to continue.

In the end, he earned an honorary diploma. Fifteen-year-old Neveu placed first in the competition; 27-year-old Oistrakh second.

Still, despite the memory slip, it was clear that Hassid was headed for a major career.

He became one of the best-loved students of violin teacher Carl Flesch, who taught many of the great violinists of the early twentieth century.   

In early 1940, the year he turned seventeen, he made his concerto debut in London in the Tchaikovsky concerto, but suffered more memory lapses during the performance.

They continued with some frequency in the months to come.

A reviewer noted it in a performance of the Brahms concerto in March 1941:

“The solo performance was scarcely more than that of a clever student who has worked hard to memorise the concerto but is still liable to be thrown off his stroke, even to the point of forgetting his notes occasionally.”

He was suffering in his personal life, too. He had extreme mood swings and became unable to recognise people.

In June 1941, he was involuntarily committed to a mental institution and diagnosed with schizophrenia. He received insulin treatment and electroshock therapy.

In October 1950, after his father’s death, his doctors performed a lobotomy on him. He developed meningitis after the surgery and died at the age of 26.

Artur Schnabel, 1946

Artur Schnabel

In 1946, while playing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 with the New York Philharmonic, pianist Artur Schnabel had a memory lapse in the third movement.

He had to stop, stand, and look at the conductor’s score before continuing.

When the live performance was issued on disc, a version without the mistake was included.

In 1991, the National Public Radio program “Fresh Air with Terry Gross” ran a brief segment about this infamous performance, which includes the audio of the breakdown. Contributor and critic Lloyd Schwartz declared the messier version his favourite.   

Arturo Toscanini, 1954

Arturo Toscanini

On 4 April 1954, indomitable and indefatigable 87-year-old maestro Arturo Toscanini led the NBC Symphony Orchestra in the Bacchanale from the opera Tannhauser. The concert was being broadcast nationally, and millions were listening.

But to his horror, he suffered a memory lapse halfway through the piece. He froze, with his arms falling to his side, his body unsure what to do. The principal cellist had to save the day by cuing in his colleagues.

The experience shook Toscanini so deeply that he decided never to conduct again.   

Arthur Rubinstein, 1964

Arthur Rubinstein

Once, while concertizing in Moscow in 1964, Rubinstein had a memory lapse playing the scherzo from Chopin’s second piano sonata…and video exists.

Without giving any outward indication that anything was wrong, Rubinstein tried repeating the passage.

When that didn’t work to get him out of his jam, he simply ad-libbed a transition to the next section!

One wonders how many in the audience were any the wiser as to what happened.

The ironic thing is, Chopin himself disapproved of his students playing from memory: he felt that it was disrespectful to the composer and to the music. It was his colleagues, Franz Liszt and Clara Schumann, who popularised the practice, not Chopin!   

Conclusion

For audiences, a memory slip might last only seconds…or perhaps not even register at all!

However, just the memory of a single one can haunt a performer for decades. Some musicians never recovered from theirs; the others figured out how to do the mental work to get back onstage.

It’s important to remember that memory lapses are almost inevitable. They’re also nothing to be ashamed of; on the contrary, they demonstrate a musician’s humanity and artistry. And that humanity is the whole reason anyone wants to hear what you have to say in the first place!