Melodies of Myth and Majesty - Exploring the French Cantata

 by Georg Predota  

The French cantata, emerging in the late 17th century and flourishing through the early 18th century, represents a distinctive musical form that blended Italianate influences with the expressive and refined aesthetic of French Baroque music. Originating around 1700, the French cantata was heavily influenced by the Italian cantata, introduced to France through composers like Marc-Antoine Charpentier, who studied in Rome under Giacomo Carissimi.

Louis-Nicolas Clérambault: Orphée   

Blending Elegance and Innovation

French composers adapted the form to suit national tastes, emphasising clarity of text, elegant melodic lines, and a more restrained emotional palette compared to the dramatic intensity of their Italian counterparts. Typically written for solo voice with continuo and sometimes additional instruments like violins or flutes, French cantatas were often performed in intimate settings, such as salons or private concerts, reflecting the cultural emphasis on refinement and intellectual discourse.

Composers like Louis-Nicolas Clérambault, André Campra, and Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre crafted cantatas that drew on mythological, pastoral, or moral themes, aligning with the French preference for narrative clarity and poetic sophistication. The development of the French cantata was also tied to the cultural politics of the time, as “composers navigated the tension between Italian musical innovation and the conservative preferences of the French court under Louis XIV,” which favoured the tragédie en musique of Jean-Baptiste Lully.

By the mid-18th century, the French cantata began to wane in popularity as musical tastes shifted toward larger-scale operatic works and the emerging galant style, which prioritised simplicity and accessibility over the intricate counterpoint and formal complexity of the Baroque cantata. Nevertheless, the genre remained a significant vehicle for compositional experimentation, particularly in its integration of French lyricism with Italian virtuosity.

Clérambault: Orphée

Louis-Nicolas Clérambault

Louis-Nicolas Clérambault (1676–1749) was born into a musical family in Paris, and he served as organist at the prestigious Saint-Sulpice and held posts at the French court. Primarily celebrated for his contributions to the French cantata and sacred music, Clérambault infused Italianate virtuosity with the elegant clarity of the French style. In all, he composed a total of 25 French cantatas that stand as the pinnacle of his compositional output.

His works, often set to mythological or pastoral texts, reflect the refined tastes of the Parisian salons where they were performed. The Orpheus myth, with its themes of love, loss, and the transformative power of music, provided Clérambault with a compelling narrative canvas. In Orphée, Clérambault sets a French text that traces Orpheus’s descent into the underworld to retrieve Eurydice, his beloved, emphasising his anguish and fleeting hope through poignant airs and dramatic recitatives.

The cantata’s structure alternates between recitative, which advances the narrative, and lyrical airs, which delve into emotional reflection. A striking feature is the “Air tendre” where Orpheus pleads with Pluto, marked by a lilting, almost hypnotic melody that mirrors Orpheus’s legendary musical charm. Clérambault’s use of chromatic harmonies and suspensions heightens the sense of longing, while his instrumental writing echoes the vocal line, creating a dialogue that feels intimate yet expressive.

The cantata also subtly engages with contemporary cultural currents, as Orpheus symbolised the artist’s divine gift, a theme resonant with the French court’s self-image as a patron of the arts under Louis XIV and beyond. The work reflects the French Baroque’s fascination with emotional depth, rhetorical clarity, and refined artistry. Clérambault’s Orphée stands out for its emotional directness and compact form, making it ideal for the salon setting where aristocratic patrons valued subtlety over spectacle.

Campra: Arion

André Campra

André Campra (1660–1744) was born in Aix-en-Provence and initially pursued a career in the church, serving as maître de musique at Notre-Dame in Paris. He gained fame for his opera but also applied his skill to the cantata genre by merging national traditions. As he writes in 1708, “As cantatas have become fashionable, I thought I should, at the request of many people, provide some for the public in my own way.”

“I have tried, as far as I could, to combine the delicacy of French music with the liveliness of Italian music: perhaps those who have completely abandoned the taste for the former will be satisfied by the way in which I have treated this little piece. I am as convinced as anyone of the merits of the Italians, but our language cannot tolerate certain things that they get away with. Our music has beauties which they cannot help admiring and try to imitate. I have endeavoured above all to preserve the beauty of the singing, the expression, and our way of reciting.”

Arion is a secular French cantata from his Cantates françoises of 1714, and it draws its story from the classical tale of Arion, a legendary Greek musician. In the story, Arion’s lyrical prowess saves him when sailors attempt to murder him for his wealth, as dolphins, enchanted by his song, carry him to safety.

Campra’s setting of this myth uses the narrative to showcase the power of music, a theme that resonated deeply with the aristocratic audiences of early eighteenth-century France. Structurally, Arion follows the typical French cantata form, with alternating recitatives and airs accompanied by a small ensemble. The opening prelude establishes a pastoral tone, while the recitatives narrate Arion’s plight with dramatic shifts in tempo and dynamics. The airs, particularly those depicting Arion’s song to the dolphins, feature ornate vocal lines with agréments, reflecting the French emphasis on expressive nuance.

de Montéclair: Pan et Syrinx

Michel Pignolet de Montéclair

The French Baroque composer and theorist Michel Pignolet de Montéclair (1667–1737) was known for his contributions to opera, cantatas, and music pedagogy. Born in Andelot, he moved to Paris, where he joined the orchestra of the Paris Opéra and later became a respected teacher. A versatile musician, he also authored influential treatises on music theory and performance, and his compositions bridged the refined tastes of the French court with the innovative trends of the early 18th century, leaving a lasting impact on the Baroque repertoire.

The cantata Pan et Syrinx draws on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, which recounts how Pan, enamoured with the chaste nymph Syrinx, chases her until she transforms into reeds to escape him, from which Pan crafts his iconic panpipes. This tale of desire, transformation, and the origins of music provided Montéclair with a rich narrative for a cantata performed with a small ensemble in salon settings.

Alternating between recitatives that narrate the story and airs that explore the characters’ emotions, Montéclair’s music vividly captures the drama. The sprightly, dance-like melodies in the opening prelude evoke Pan’s playful pursuit, contrasted by lyrical, flowing airs for Syrinx’s pleas for freedom.

His use of text painting is particularly striking, such as in passages where the flute mimics the sound of Pan’s reeds or where chromatic harmonies underscore Syrinx’s fear. The structure reflects the French Baroque’s emphasis on clarity and emotional directness, while Montéclair’s inclusion of pastoral elements, like the lilting rhythms and flute obligatos, ties the work to the era’s fascination with idyllic nature.

Dornel: Le Tombeau de Clorinde

Cover page Louis-Antoine Dornel’s Le Tombeau de Clorinde

Louis-Antoine Dornel (c. 1680–1765) was a composer, harpsichordist, organist, and violinist, active in Paris during the early 18th century. Likely born in Béthemont-la-Forêt or Presles, he served as organist at Sainte Madeleine-en-la-Cité, a position he secured over Jean-Philippe Rameau, and later as maître de musique at the Académie Française. Dornel’s compositions include chamber music, harpsichord suites, and a number of cantatas that contributed to the vibrant cultural exchange of the French Baroque.

Le Tombeau de Clorinde dates from 1723 and draws on the tragic story of Clorinde, a character from Torquato Tasso’s epic Jerusalem Delivered. It tells the story of Clorinde, a Saracen warrior-princess, who is tragically killed in combat by her Christian lover Tancred, who was unaware of her identity.

This narrative of doomed love and mourning provided Dornel with a dramatic framework. Typically performed by a solo voice, most often a baritone with a small ensemble including violin and continue, Le Tombeau alternates between recitatives and airs to convey the story’s emotional arc.

The opening recitative, “Dans l’horreur d’un combat,” sets a sombre tone, depicting the horror of battle, while subsequent airs, such as “Ô vous, Manes sacrées,” express Tancred’s grief with lyrical depth and ornamented vocal lines. Dornel’s music employs a good amount of text painting, with descending melodic figures and chromatic harmonies evoking sorrow, and the violin’s obbligato lines intertwine with the voice to heighten the lament’s intimacy.

de La Guerre: Judith

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre (1665–1729) was a French Baroque composer, harpsichordist, and singer, celebrated as one of the most gifted musicians of her time. Born into a musical family in Paris, she performed as a child prodigy at the court of Louis XIV, earning royal patronage. Trained by her father, she excelled in composing across genres, and while her output consists largely of harpsichord music, she was the first woman to have an opera performed at the Académie royale de musique (the Opéra) in Paris. She was also the first composer in France to publish sacred cantatas, including Judith of 1708.

The cantata is rooted in the Book of Judith, recounting Judith’s heroic act of seduction and assassination of the Assyrian general Holofernes to save her people. The music for Judith emphasises spiritual depth, aligning with the period’s growing interest in sacred music for private settings during the Regency of Louis XV. The cantata’s structure, with its compact yet expressive form, highlights Jacquet de La Guerre’s innovative approach to text setting, using subtle dynamic shifts and harmonic progressions to convey Judith’s transformation from supplicant to victor.

Her instrumental writing, particularly for the violin, anticipates the more integrated textures of later Baroque music. The opening recitative sets the scene with vivid imagery of the Assyrian threat, using declamatory vocal lines to evoke urgency. The subsequent airs, such as those depicting Judith’s prayer of triumph, feature lyrical melodies adorned with French ornaments. Her use of text painting is notable, with rising melodic lines for Judith’s resolve and darker, chromatic harmonies for Holofernes’s menace.

The work also holds cultural significance as a product of a female composer navigating a male-dominated field, with Jacquet de La Guerre’s dedication of her cantatas to the Elector of Bavaria reflecting her ambition to gain recognition beyond France. Judith thus stands as a testament to her compositional skill and the French cantata’s role as a vehicle for both artistic and moral expression in the early eighteenth century.

Clérambault: Medée

Louis-Nicolas Clérambault’s Médée, a secular French cantata from his Cantates françoises of 1713, showcases his mastery of dramatic vocal music and emotional intensity. Drawing on the mythological tragedy of Medea, the sorceress who exacts vengeance on her unfaithful lover Jason, this cantata captures the raw passion and turmoil of its protagonist in a form designed for intimate salon performances.

This tale of love, betrayal, and vengeance provided Clérambault with a dramatic narrative ideally suited to the French cantata’s expressive capabilities. Performed typically by a solo soprano with a small ensemble of violin, flute, and continuo, Médée alternates between recitatives and airs to convey the protagonist’s emotional descent.

The opening recitative, “Ingrate, tu trahis,” sets a tempestuous tone, with declamatory vocal lines and shifting harmonies that mirror Medea’s rage. The airs, such as “Dieux cruels, dieux vengeurs,” feature florid melodies and French ornaments, which emphasise her anguish and resolve. Jagged melodic contours and chromatic dissonances evoke Medea’s tormented psyche, while the instrumental parts amplify the drama.

The text, crafted with elegant prosody, allows Clérambault to balance rhetorical clarity with intense emotion, creating a vivid portrait of a woman consumed by betrayal. Performed in the refined setting of Parisian salons, Médée appealed to aristocratic audiences who valued the French Baroque’s blend of mythological storytelling and musical sophistication, reflecting the era’s fascination with strong and complex female figures.

Closing Thoughts

The French cantata was a major poetic and musical genre of the 18th century. Born in the 17th century and originally imported from Italy, it took many different forms in France. Initially it was simply transplanted in its original language and form but soon translated and developed to accompany the French poetic style, undergoing a dialectic change.

The decline of the French cantata by the 1740s coincided with the rise of public concerts, such as the Concert Spirituel, “which favoured orchestral and sacred music over chamber genres.” Scholarly analysis has highlighted the French cantata’s role as a cultural artefact, reflecting the tensions between tradition and innovation in French music, as well as the social dynamics of patronage and performance in the aristocratic salons of the period. Its legacy endures in the way it shaped the development of French vocal music, influencing later genres like the opéra-comique and the mélodie.

Thunder and Trembling Vladimir Horowitz’s Battle with Performance Anxiety (Born October 1, 1903)

by Georg Predota

Vladimir Horowitz, the titan of 20th-century pianists, could silence a hall with a single chord, his fingers conjuring tempests from the keys. Yet, for all his mastery, he was a prisoner of performance anxiety, this crippling dread that drove him to the edge of collapse and forced four dramatic exits from the concert stage.

Vladimir Horowitz

“To tell you the truth, sometimes I’m frightened of myself,” he confessed in 1975, revealing the paradox of a genius who ruled Carnegie Hall but trembled at its threshold. This torment, born of revolution-scarred youth and relentless perfectionism, didn’t just haunt Horowitz.

Performance anxiety actually shaped his volcanic artistry, forging a legacy where fear and brilliance were inseparable. To celebrate his birthday on 1 October, let us honour the legacy of a pianist who transformed terror into transcendence.   

Paradox of Genius and Fear

Born on 1 October 1903 in the shadowed streets of Berdichev, near Kyiv in what was then the Russian Empire, Horowitz emerged as a prodigy whose fingers danced across the piano with a ferocity that could coax thunder from ivory. His mother, Sophie, a conservatory-trained pianist, recognised his gift early, and by age 12, he was enrolled at the Kyiv Conservatory under masters like Felix Blumenfeld, a student of Tchaikovsky himself.

Felix Blumenfeld

Horowitz’s early career was a blaze of triumphs. Debuts in Leningrad and Kharkov in 1920, a European tour that stunned audiences in Berlin and Paris, and a New York recital in 1928 that prompted The New York Times critic Olin Downes to hail him as displaying “most if not all the traits of a great interpreter.”

Yet, beneath this virtuosic facade lurked a profound vulnerability. Stage fright, that spectral adversary, would hound him for decades. That insidious cocktail of adrenaline and dread afflicted Horowitz like a recurring fever. It manifested not as mere butterflies but as a paralysing panic.   

Rituals of Dread

As biographer Glenn Plaskin recounts in Horowitz: A Biography, the pianist often arrived at venues in the eleventh hour, demanding silence from all around him, his anxiety so acute that aides sometimes had to physically nudge him toward the stage.

“Such was his stage fright that he often had to be pushed physically onto the stage,” notes music historian Robert Greenberg, underscoring how this neurotic ritual became as much a part of Horowitz’s lore as his octave-spanning arpeggios.

Incredibly, this man who commanded sold-out halls and fees that made him the highest-paid artist of the 1940s chronically doubted his own adequacy, whispering to himself that he was “inferior and inadequate” even as ovat

Murmurs of Assurance

The roots of Horowitz’s affliction might well be traced back to his tumultuous youth.

The 1917 Russian Revolution ravaged his family, as his father’s electrical engineering firm was seized, and relatives were imprisoned or executed. By 1925, the family had fled to Paris, leaving Vladimir to perform ragtime in silent-film theatres for survival.

This upheaval instilled a deep-seated insecurity, compounded by his innate perfectionism. “His consistent need to be perfect… drove his stage fright in a big way,” observed a scholar, also noting that the young pianist’s early acclaim only amplified his fear of failure.

Horowitz himself hinted at this inner turmoil in rare interviews, though direct quotes on stage fright are elusive. Instead, he channelled it into mantras of reassurance. Before performances, he would murmur, “I know my pieces,” a self-soothing litany affirming his meticulous preparation as a bulwark against the void.   

A Vanishing Act

Vladimir Horowitz in 1931

This ritual, born of desperation, revealed a man wrestling not just with notes but with the terror of exposure. Horowitz’s first major retreat came in 1936, a seismic event that rippled through the music world. At the peak of his powers, fresh off collaborations with Toscanini and recordings that refined the Rachmaninoff concertos, he succumbed to “nervous exhaustion.”

Married since 1933 to Wanda Toscanini, daughter of the imperious conductor Arturo, Horowitz faced mounting pressures. The stormy union was marked by Wanda’s infidelities and Vladimir’s alleged homosexuality, with colitis twisting his gut.

Vladimir and Wanda Horowitz

He vanished from the stage for 13 months, retreating to Italy and then New York, where therapy and rest barely quelled the storm. Biographer Harold C. Schonberg, in Horowitz: His Life and Music, describes this period as one where “the heartbreaking destruction of his family combined with… professional frustrations to bring on the first of several breakdowns.”   

Electric Return and Enduring Shadows

Upon return in 1938, his playing was electric, but the fright lingered like a shadow. The post-World War II years amplified the torment. By 1953, after a separation from Wanda and rumours of institutionalisation, Horowitz hit rock bottom.

He underwent electroshock therapy for depression, a brutal intervention that left him catatonic at the piano. “For months, for years, he was incapable of performing in public,” recounts author Lea Singer in a 2021 interview about Horowitz’s hidden life.

The mere thoughts of the stage triggered panic attacks so severe that rumours started to fly that he could no longer touch the keys. This hiatus lasted 12 years, the longest of his four periods of retirement. During these silences, Horowitz turned to recordings, a much safer harbour where he could edit out imperfections.

A Phoenix Rises

Vladimir Horowitz in 1986

Yet, from these ashes rose phoenix-like comebacks, each a testament to resilience. The most mythic unfolded on 9 May 1965, at Carnegie Hall. Backstage, Horowitz paced like a caged tiger, his wife and daughter, Sonia, imploring him to move forward. When he finally emerged, the ovation was deafening.

His program, scarred on showpieces and heavy on Bach, Clementi and Mozart, unleashed a Horowitz reborn. His playing was introspective, crystalline, with rubato that breathed like wind through willows. Pianist André Watts captured the onstage atmosphere, stating, “Horowitz was like a demon barely under control.” (Read more about “Vladimir Horowitz’s Legendary 1965 Carnegie Hall Comeback Concert“.)

The eminent musicologist Charles Rosen elaborated further, dubbing performance anxiety “a divine ailment, a sacred madness. It’s a Promethean curse where the artist suffers to deliver the divine spark.”    

Imperfect Perfection

Horowitz transmuted performance anxiety into daring, as the fear of errors became the edge that sharpened his interpretations. As he explained in 1975, “I must tell you I take terrible risks. Because my playing is very clear, when I make a mistake, you hear it… Never be afraid to dare.”

Yet, Horowitz disdained mechanical perfection. “Perfection itself is imperfection,” he quipped, instead favouring “a little mistake here and there” to infuse music with human warmth.

Lea Singer described his offstage demeanour as a “shy penguin”, noting his 1986 Moscow bow tie, and grinning through “great sadness.” Pianist Oscar Levant, another anxiety-plagued musician, jested that Horowitz should advertise “for a limited number of cancellations.”   

Tears and Triumph

Vladimir Horowitz in 1986

Critics and peers dissected Horowitz’s affliction with awe and empathy. In The Guardian, a 2015 reflection on overcoming anxiety likened stage fright to “an untamed horse. We have to try to harness it, let it out, pull it back,” an apt metaphor for Horowitz’s volatile command.

Even in later years, as recordings supplanted tours, his influence endured. His late-career resurgences, in 1978 in Cleveland after a nine-year absence, and the 1986 historic Moscow return amid Gorbachev’s glasnost, were defiant rebuttals to his demons.

As he plays Schumann’s Träumerei with tears in his eyes, an encore that bridges across 61 years of exile, he once declared, “without false modesty, I feel that, when I’m on the stage, I’m the king, the boss of the situation.” Yet, as Classical Music magazine reflected in 2025, his “success… came at a heavy price, with electroshock scars and pill bottles as collateral.”  

Chasing the Sublime

Vladimir Horowitz died on 5 November 1989, in New York, felled by a heart attack at the age of 86. His legacy, etched in 25 Grammys and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, transcends the man. Performance anxiety for Horowitz was no mere malady but the crucible of his art.

It forced retirements that honed his depth, risks that electrified his touch, and returns that redefined triumph. In an era when beta-blockers offered chemical relief, as proposed in a 1979 Times article, Horowitz reminds us that the raw edge of fear can give birth to the sublime.

As Joan Acocella, in her 2015 The New Yorker essay on performance anxiety, wrote, “Horowitz played from the other side of the score, looking back.” And maybe that’s how we should gaze at him as well. A demon tamed, a king enthroned, forever chasing the music behind the notes.

John Rutter - Celebrating 80 Years of Choral Legacy

by Georg Predota  October 3rd, 2025

On the occasion of John Rutter’s 80th birthday on 24 September 2025, choral communities across the globe join in a formal celebration of his extraordinary contributions to the world of music. His compositions have enriched the repertoire of choirs worldwide, gracing sacred spaces, concert halls, and festivals with their profound beauty and emotional depth.

John Rutter

Rutter’s artistry has inspired generations of singers, conductors, and audiences, fostering a shared sense of unity and reverence through the power of choral music. As we reflect on this milestone, it is fitting to explore Rutter’s life, his artistic contributions, and the enduring impact of his work 

Igniting a Lifelong Passion

John Rutter’s early life was steeped in the sounds of London’s vibrant cultural landscape. Growing up above the Globe pub on Marylebone Road, the son of an industrial chemist, he discovered music’s enchanting world through an out-of-tune upright piano.

His formal education at Highgate School, where he sang as a chorister alongside future luminaries like John Tavener, ignited a passion for composition. At just 18, Rutter penned his “Shepherd’s Pipe Carol,” a piece that captured the ethereal innocence of pastoral imagery and foreshadowed his affinity for Christmas carols.

This early work, published during his undergraduate years at Clare College, Cambridge, marked the beginning of a prolific output that blended English choral traditions with innovative textures. At Cambridge, Rutter not only studied music but also served as Director of Music at Clare College Chapel from 1975 to 1979, elevating the choir to an international standing.  

Crafting Choral Classics

John Rutter

John Rutter played a pivotal role in the Carols of Choir series, particularly from 1970 onward. As co-editor alongside Sir David Willcocks, Rutter contributed original works and arrangements, which blended traditional folk elements with vibrant rhythms and luminous harmonies.

Earning praise for their “joyful qualities” and “musical polish,” Rutter’s work on subsequent volumes further showcases his versatility. In fact, Willcocks called him “the most gifted composer of his generation.”

Rutter decided to leave Academia in 1979 to focus on composition. This decision was pivotal as it allowed him to establish the Cambridge Singers in 1981. This professional choir became his creative laboratory, recording sacred repertoire on his Collegium Records label and touring globally.   

Mourning and Majesty

Yet, Rutter’s path was not without adversity as he battled health problems from 1985 to 1992, a period that curtailed commissions and forced a re-evaluation of his creative process. Emerging from this trial, Rutter’s music gained deeper emotional layers, as evident in works like the Requiem, which balances mourning with consolation.

Rutter’s sacred choral music is rooted in a harmonic language that favours modal shifts and lush tertian sonorities to facilitate emotional accessibility. Demanding vocal precision, these works blend simplicity and sophistication, appealing to both amateur and professional ensembles alike.

John Rutter’s influence extends to secular realms as well. His “This is the Day,” composed for the wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton, fuses psalmic joy with contemporary resonance. We also find orchestral works, such as the Suite Antique, stimulated by Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, and two Beatles-themed piano concertos inspired by the American songbook tradition. 

Uniting Voices

John Rutter with the Cambridge Singers

John Rutter’s contributions to choral music have left an enduring mark on the global choral landscape, blending accessibility with harmonic sophistication to create works that resonate across sacred and secular contexts.

Rutter’s ability to infuse traditional texts with modern sensibilities, often through luminous tonal palettes and subtle rhythmic vitality, has been praised as “a gift for melody and an instinctive understanding of the voice.”

As we celebrate his 80th birthday, we honour John Rutter’s enduring legacy as a defining figure in contemporary choral music. His lasting impact stems from his unique ability to craft music that is both emotionally immediate and technically refined. In other words, Rutter’s music unites singers and listeners in shared emotional experiences.

Violin Concerto of Renewed Passion Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky and Yosif Kotek II

by Georg Predota

  

Story Behind Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D major Op.35

Tchaikovsky © torrentsland.com

Following his separation from his wife Antonina Miliukova, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) hastily fled to the town of Clarens. This small and peaceful Swiss resort village on the shores of Lake Geneva not only allowed him to mentally recover from a feeble attempt at suicide, it also saw the reunion with his former student and lover, the violinist Yosif Kotek, who also gave inspirations and advice to Tchaikovsky’s famous violin concerto. Barely a year had past since the lovers had unceremoniously separated, however, their passion had recently been rekindled.

Travelling with his brother Modest, Tchaikovsky met Kotek in Vienna in November 1877, and the merry threesome happily undertook some scenic travels throughout Europe. Still in the midst of a personal identity crisis that reflected the dialectical irony of homosexuality itself—how to reconcile the need for passive submission towards his male friends that was simultaneously contradicted by competitive aggression towards them—Tchaikovsky eventually summoned Kotek from Berlin to join him in Switzerland. Amongst a good deal of comforting, music making and other pleasantries, their renewed association quickly gave Tchaikovsky the idea of composing a violin concerto.

Violin score of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto © violinsheetmusic.org

Yosif Kotek, ever so willing, provided his technical expertise and hands-on experience and within a month, the concerto was finished. Writing to his brother Anatoly, the composer rejoiced, “how lovingly [Kotek] busies himself with my concerto! It goes without saying that I would have been able to do nothing without him. He plays it marvellously!” Initially, Tchaikovsky wanted to dedicate the new violin composition to Kotek but feared that it would somehow draw attention to the true nature of his relationship with the violinist. By eventually dedicating the work to Leopold Auer—surely also a gesture of passive aggression towards his philandering lover—Tchaikovsky caused a permanent rift in the relationship.

Kotek hastily departed, and Tchaikovsky continued to complain about Kotek’s “unbelievable womanizing”. Kotek never forgave Tchaikovsky for changing the dedication, and when the composer approached him with a peace offering—formally asking him to publicly perform their concerto—he flatly refused. Although they would occasionally meet, love had clearly turned into contempt, and they found each other’s company “more unpleasant than pleasant,” and more “tiresome than attractive”. As it happens, contempt turned into pity when Kotek contracted tuberculosis and was sent to Switzerland for treatment. Tchaikovsky rushed to the bedside of his estranged and ailing lover, and dispensed various spiritual and physical comforts for six days. Kotek died, aged 29, and Tchaikovsky was charged with informing Kotek’s parents of their son’s untimely passing.

If You Like Bach, You Might Like Glenn Gould

 by Georg Predota

Johann Sebastian Bach, the towering figure of Baroque music, is renowned for his intricate counterpoint, emotional depth, and technical brilliance. His compositions have inspired countless musicians and listeners for centuries.

Johann Sebastian Bach

Among the interpreters of Bach’s keyboard music, few have left as indelible a mark as the Canadian pianist Glenn Gould. Known for his idiosyncratic and highly personal approach to Bach’s compositions, Gould’s performances offer a fresh lens through which to experience the composer’s genius.

Glenn Gould at the piano

Glenn Gould (1932–1982) was a singular voice in the interpretation of Bach, a pianist of extraordinary talent and polarising eccentricity. His approach to Bach was shaped by a combination of technical brilliance, intellectual rigour, and a willingness to challenge conventional performance practices. 

A Fusion of Precision and Passion

Bach’s music is both intellectually stimulating and deeply emotive, balancing mathematical precision with profound spirituality. For the performer, they demand technical precision and interpretive insight, offering the artist a vast canvas for expression.

Bach’s mastery of counterpoint creates a dense, almost hypnotic interplay of lines that challenges both listener and performers. Structural complexity, emotional depth, and interpretive flexibility made Bach’s music a perfect vehicle for a performer like Glenn Gould, whose unorthodox approach brought a completely new dimension to these works.

Unlike most pianists of his time, who adhered to Romantic traditions of lush, expressive playing, Gould favoured clarity, precision, and a detached yet highly expressive style. His performances often emphasised the architectural logic of Bach’s music while infusing it with a distinctly modern sensibility.

A Revolutionary Blend

Glenn Gould

Gould’s 1955 recording of the Goldberg Variations is perhaps the most iconic example of his approach. At the age of 22, Gould burst onto the international scene with his debut album for Columbia Records, which remains one of the most celebrated recordings of the work. In contrast to the stately, measured interpretations of earlier performers, Gould’s set is brisk, rhythmically incisive, and strikingly clear.

His tempos, particularly in the faster variations, are lightning-fast, showcasing his virtuosic control and ability to articulate each voice in Bach’s polyphony with crystalline precision. For instance, in Variation 7, a gigue-like movement, Gould’s buoyant rhythm and crisp articulation highlight the dance-like character, making the music feel alive and spontaneous.

Yet, Gould’s interpretation is not merely about speed or clarity. He brings a profound sense of individuality to the work, emphasising contrasts between variations and creating a narrative arc that feels both cohesive and unpredictable.

Eccentric Brilliance

Glenn Gould’s chair

Gould does engage in deliberate pacing and provides subtle dynamic shading that evokes a meditative intensity that resonates with Bach’s spiritual core. This ability to balance intellectual clarity with emotional expressiveness makes Gould’s Goldberg Variations a must-hear for Bach lovers, as it captures the composer’s multifaceted genius in a uniquely compelling way.

Gould’s interpretations are not without controversy, and this is part of what makes him so fascinating for Bach enthusiasts. His unconventional choices, such as extreme tempos, unconventional phrasing, and even his habit of humming along while playing, can be polarising.

Yet, these quirks often enhance the listener’s experience by offering a fresh perspective on familiar works by adding a layer of intimacy. While some find it distracting, others see it as a window into Gould’s immersion in the music and as a sign of his deep connection to Bach’s world. By bridging the intellectual and the emotional, Gould’s eccentricities can feel like an authentic expression of that duality.

Reimagining Bach

Glenn Gould

Gould’s engagement with Bach extended beyond his performances. As a writer, broadcaster, and thinker, he championed Bach’s music in ways that resonate with fans of the composer. In his essays and radio documentaries, he explored themes of solitude and creativity, drawing parallels to Bach’s introspective genius. His advocacy for Bach’s music as a timeless, universal language helped cement the composer’s place in the modern repertoire.

Gould’s choice to perform Bach on the modern piano reflects his belief in the music’s adaptability. By using the piano’s dynamic capabilities to bring out dramatic contrasts, Gould’s interpretation bridges historical and modern sensibilities.

Universal Genius

Gould’s interpretations are not just journeys into the composer’s world but also an encounter with a performer whose passion and originality mirror Bach’s own genius. His performances offer a gateway to experiencing the qualities of Bach’s music in a fresh and unforgettable way.

For Bach fans, Gould’s interpretations are not just performances. They are revelations that uncover the multifaceted beauty of Bach’s music. His unapologetic individuality makes his performances a natural extension of Bach’s own innovative spirit, and he invites listeners to rediscover the music through the lens of a singular artist.

50 Years Schubertiade

by Georg Predota

Nestled in the tranquil Vorarlberg region of Austria, where rolling hills and Alpine meadows create a stunning backdrop, the Schubertiade festival shines as a pinnacle of musical artistry, honouring the enduring genius of Franz Schubert’s compositions.

For half a century, the Schubertiade has enchanted music lovers with its celebration of Franz Schubert’s timeless compositions, establishing itself as a cherished cultural tradition. Since its founding in 1976, the Schubertiade has united exceptional musicians and passionate audiences in intimate, evocative venues, fostering a deep connection to Schubert’s music.

While the Schubertiade 2025 continues to enchant audiences with its celebration of Schubert’s music, preparations for the 50th anniversary in 2026 are already in motion, promising a historic milestone. To mark this significant occasion, the festival will initially recreate the program of the inaugural 1976 Schubertiade, honouring its origins with a poignant tribute to Schubert’s timeless artistry.   

Honouring Origins
The 1976 Schubertiade Revived for a Historic 50th Anniversary

Hermann Prey

The inaugural Schubertiade in 1976 was a modest yet profound affair, featuring Hermann Prey alongside pianist Leonard Hokanson. Their performance set the tone for the festival’s ethos of authenticity, intimacy, and a focus on Schubert’s music, particularly his lieder and his chamber works. The decision to recreate this program for the 2026 opening concert is a nod to the festival’s humble beginnings and a testament to its enduring mission to keep Schubert’s spirit alive.

To be sure, recreating the 1976 programme is more than a nostalgic gesture; it is a deliberate act of cultural preservation. The Schubertiade has always balanced tradition with innovation, introducing new artists and expanding its repertoire while remaining anchored in Schubert’s music. By revisiting the inaugural programme, the festival honours Gerd Nachbauer’s and Hermann Prey’s vision of creating a space where Schubert’s music could thrive in an intimate, authentic setting.

The recreation of the 1976 Schubertiade programme is akin to unearthing a musical time capsule, carefully preserved when the festival first came to life under Hermann Prey’s visionary guidance. As such, the 2026 recreation is not merely a performance but a bridge across time, inviting today’s audiences to experience the same emotional intensity and intimate connection that captivated listeners back in 1976.  

Eternal Melodies
Lieder in the Limelight

It comes as no surprise that every composition performed at the inaugural Schubertiade in Hohenems, held from May 8 to 16, 1976, in the historic Rittersaal of Hohenems Palace, was crafted by Franz Schubert. This exclusive focus on Schubert’s music, with a particular spotlight on his lieder, defined the festival’s initial programming and set a precedent for its enduring identity. It established a foundation of authenticity and reverence by laying the groundwork for a legacy that continues to thrive half a century later.

Of the nine concerts that comprised the 1976 festival, five were devoted to Schubert’s lieder, highlighting the emotive power and poetic depth of individual songs such as “Wandrers Nachtlied” and “Sehnsucht,” alongside the profound song cycles Die schöne Müllerin, Winterreise, and Schwanengesang. These performances, led by Prey’s expressive baritone and Leonard Hokanson’s sensitive pianism, captured the essence of Schubert’s ability to weave narrative and emotion into music that speaks to the human heart.

Then as now, Schubert’s lieder remain the heart and soul of the Schubertiade, their emotional depth, poetic sensitivity, and timeless melodies resonating with audiences across generations. This emphasis on lieder not only defined the festival’s inaugural spirit but continues to anchor its mission, ensuring that Schubert’s songs remain a vibrant, living tradition in the intimate setting of Hohenems and Schwarzenberg.   

Immortal Voices
Chamber Works That Transcend Eras

Gerd Nachbauer

The various lieder recitals at the inaugural Schubertiade in Hohenems were complemented by an exquisite selection of Franz Schubert’s chamber music masterpieces, including “Death and the Maiden” (String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor, D. 810), the Fantasy in F Minor for Piano Four Hands (D. 940), the Octet in F Major, (D. 803), and the Trout Quintet (Piano Quintet in A Major, D. 667). Collectively, these works leave an indelible impression of Schubert’s genius, blending emotional universality with innovative craftsmanship.

The Death and the Maiden quartet, rooted in Schubert’s earlier lied, juxtaposes brooding intensity with moments of lyrical tenderness and captures the human confrontation with mortality in a timeless and transcendent manner. The Octet in F Major, with its expansive six-movement structure, radiates warmth and virtuosity, its conversational interplay among eight instruments showcasing Schubert’s ambition to rival Beethoven’s grandeur.

The Fantasy for piano 4 hands is a pinnacle of Schubert’s late style, blending lyric intimacy with structural ambition in a continuous stream of communal spirit. Traversing human emotions from introspection to exuberant joy, the harmonic richness and melodic inventiveness create a defining sense of dialogue and unity.

The Trout Quintet, named for its fourth movement’s variations on Schubert’s lied, radiates youthful exuberance and melodic charm. Its unconventional instrumentation (violin, viola, cello, double bass, and piano), offering a fresh and luminous texture, is a playful yet sophisticated depiction of nature and human joy. These works have clearly withstood the test of time and are as relevant and vibrant today as they were 50 years ago.  

Echoes of Devotion
Spiritual Masterpieces

Schubertiade Hohenems

The central concert at the first Schubertiade of 1976 featured selections from Schubert’s sacred compositions. From selected settings of the Salve Regina to Antiphonal Choruses for Palm Sunday and the “German Mass,” these works showcased Schubert’s gift for melodic richness and harmonic sophistication, blending Viennese choral traditions with his distinctive emotional expressiveness.

While these sacred works were at the centre of cultural life 50 years ago, the devotional tone, rooted in liturgical settings, has not transferred to the predominantly secular culture of today. Performance demands and a lacking practical context for Schubert’s sacred music have contributed to its diminished presence today.

Since his masses and other sacred compositions require larger choral and orchestral forces, often tied to specific religious occasions, Schubert’s sacred output has sadly been relegated to isolated performances. The opportunity to hear these sacred works revived at the Schubertiade 2026 within a secular setting promises to be a captivating highlight, allowing audiences to reconnect with their spiritual depth and lyrical beauty.

A Timeless Celebration

Moritz von Schwind: Schubertiade 1868

The Schubertiade 2026, marking its 50th anniversary, stands as a testament to the enduring power of Franz Schubert’s music, with its opening in Hohenems recreating the 1976 programme to honour the festival’s origins. By reviving the lieder-dominated program alongside timeless chamber works and festive sacred music, the festival opens a musical time capsule, reconnecting audiences with the intimate and authentic spirit that Hermann Prey and Gerd Nachbauer envisioned.

These works, with their profound emotional depth, innovative structures, and universal themes, remain as vibrant today as they sounded in 1976. This golden anniversary celebration not only preserves the Schubertiade’s legacy but also reaffirms Schubert’s music as the heart and soul of the festival, bridging past and present in a luminous celebration of artistry that continues to captivate and inspire across generations.