The Enduring Magic of the Harp Top 10 Harp Favourites

by Hermione Lai  August 30th, 2026

The harp is one of the oldest known string instruments, dating back to ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Although we find many different types and models, the basic shape features a triangular frame with strings running between the neck and the soundboard.

The standard orchestral harp features 47 strings, and it uses seven pedals at the base to alter string pitches and change keys. The instrument is played by plucking the strings with the fingers, usually while seated.

The harp has strong political and symbolic value, especially in Ireland, where it has long served as a national emblem. In Christian tradition, heaven is depicted as populated by angels playing harps. As its corporate logo, the Irish brewer Guinness has used the harp since 1759.

Harps can produce a broad range of intoxicating sounds, from warm plucked notes to shimmering glissandos and arpeggios. The repertoire for the harp is vast, and here is a top 10 list of some of the most beautiful harp music ever written.

Harp

Félix Godefroid

Félix Godefroid (1818-1897) might not be a household name, but several generations of players and listeners have enjoyed his harp compositions and didactic works. In fact, when he made his debut in Paris in 1847, he was quickly dubbed the “Paganini of the harp.”

Félix Godefroid, by Marie-Alexandre Alophe

Godefroid hailed from Namur in Belgium and studied at the Paris Conservatoire and later with Elias Parish-Alvars. He was a travelling harp virtuoso, visiting the Middle East, Spain, England, and Holland. He even wrote an opera titled La harpe d’or, which included a harp fantasy that he himself played from the wings.

His studies for the harp focus on left-hand technique, and many of his 300 pieces have maintained a firm place in 19th-century harp literature.  

The Parisian instrument makers Pleyel and Érard were bitter rivals, and they continually modified and improved their harps’ designs. To showcase their respective technical and musical innovations, both companies commissioned the leading French composers to write music for their new and improved instruments.

Chromatic harp

In 1904, Pleyel asked Claude Debussy to write his Danse sacrée et danse profane (Sacred and profane dances) for harp and orchestra. In turn, Érard commissioned Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) to compose a piece that would showcase the expressive range of the new double-action pedal harp.

Ravel responded with his Introduction and Allegro for harp, flute, clarinet and string quartet. This unique composition contrasts the smooth sound of the woodwinds, the percussive sound of the harp, and the warmth of the strings. The work is often described as a miniature harp concerto, with the instrument introducing important themes, providing shimmering accompaniments, and playing a major solo cadenza.

Claude Debussy: Danse sacrée et danse profane  

Debussy’s Danse sacrée et danse profane was commissioned by the firm of Pleyel in 1904. The instrument maker wanted it for use in competitions associated with a newly inaugurated class in the chromatic harp at the Brussels Conservatory.

Claude Debussy, by Atelier Nadar

Pleyel’s chromatic harp featured two rows of strings that cross each other without touching. One side has 7 strings per octave, while the other has 5. Think of it in terms of the piano, with 7 white and 5 black keys per octave.

This particular harp was designed to eliminate the need for pedals by providing 78 separate strings for every note on the chromatic scale. Debussy’s composition contains two movements: a slower sacred dance with slow-moving modal sonorities, contrasted with a lilting waltz.   

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Concerto for Flute and Harp, KV 299  

The harp was Marie Antoinette’s favourite instrument, and it was also the most popular instrument of the day. As such, the harp had started to replace the harpsichord in the salons of the upper bourgeoisie. It was the instrument of fashion.

Marie Antoinette played the harp every day, and she had several beautifully decorated instruments at her disposal. She composed her own tunes and melodies and encouraged composers to write music for it.

Mozart in Paris

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart arrived in Paris in 1778, and since Marie Antoinette was indisposed, he took on several private students. In April 1778, he was engaged to give composition lessons to Marie-Louise-Philippine Bonnières, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Guînes. His young charge was a capable harpist, and the duke an excellent flautist. As such, the duke commissioned Mozart to compose a concerto for him to perform with his daughter.  

Although Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921) never held a teaching position at the Paris Conservatoire, he served on various juries and selection committees. He made sure that his student Gabriel Fauré was appointed director, and that Alphonse Hasselmans was appointed professor of harp in 1884.

Saint-Saëns, circa 1880

In all, Saint-Saëns composed three works for the harp, with the Fantaisie for Solo Harp, Op. 95, dating from 1893. It is one of the best-known pieces for the instrument, and its two movements are still used as a Paris Conservatoire examination piece.

The Fantaisie explores the whole potential of the harp in terms of expression and colour. Because it combined lyrical writing and technical brilliance, it has remained a cornerstone of the repertoire.   

Josef Hasselmans became the first director of the Strasbourg Conservatoire in 1854, and Richard Wagner called him a “very good-natured, amiable fellow.” He is also remembered for two major schools of double-action harp playing.

His son Alphonse Hasselmans (1845-1912) first studied with his father in Strasbourg, and eight successful solo concerts in Paris in 1877 brought him appointments as solo harpist with the Paris orchestras of the Conservatoire, Opéra, and Opéra-Comique.

Alphonse Hasselmans

Hasselmans wrote 54 pieces for the harp, and many of his compositions were inspired by his performance and dedicated to him. His solo harp etude La Source dates from 1898 and is dedicated to his student Hélène Gayat. Often nicknamed “The Brook,” the rippling textures and cantabile line make it one of the most beloved works in the harp repertoire.  

Paul Hindemith (1895–1963) was one of the most versatile musicians of his time, and he could play all instruments of the orchestra, except for the harp. However, his Sonata for Harp is a pioneering example of contemporary harp music.

It is part of a series of 26 sonatas for various wind and string instruments, as well as for piano and organ. Hindemith finished this work in 1939, just weeks after the outbreak of World War II, and just before he departed for the United States.

Paul Hindemith

It is a three-movement work, and the final movement in a slow tempo is inscribed with an ode of mourning by Ludwig Christoph Heinrich Hölty. The poem relates a dying harpist’s last wish that, after his death, the harp be placed behind the church altar as a memorial, to sound of its own accord much like the Aeolian harps of antiquity.    

Eli Parish (1808-1849) hailed from a small port in Devonshire, yet he became one of the most illustrious musical figures of the 19th century. Franz Liszt excitedly wrote, “From beneath his forehead speak his dreamy eyes, expressive of the glowing imagination which lives in his composition.”

Parish Alvars

Not to be outdone, Berlioz stated, “This man is a magician. In his hands the harp becomes a siren, with lovely neck inclined and wild hair flowing, stirred by his passionate embrace to utter the music of another world.”

Elias Parish-Alvars, a name he freely invented, bought his first double-action harp from Pierre Erard in May 1842, and this more robustly constructed and mechanically superior instrument opened up new musical horizons. He developed innovative techniques integrating pedal and manual skills in unprecedented ways. After all, two harps are always better than one.  

Marcel Tournier (1879-1951) was a student of Alphonse Hasselmans at the Paris Conservatory. He would eventually succeed his teacher as professor of harp in 1912, holding that position until 1948.

Tournier composed several solos for harp, and several chamber works that feature the harp prominently. His solo harp suite Images No. 4 is known for its pictorial character, featuring movements with evocative titles such as “La volière magique,” “Cloches sous la neige,” and “La danse du moujik.”

Marcel Tournier

This work is one of his best-known contributions, as it paints contrasting musical scenes with a blend of virtuosity and colour.

Nicolas-Charles Bochsa: Six Preludes

Robert Nicolas-Charles Bochsa, the harpist

Nicolas-Charles Bochsa (1789-1856) was one of the most prolific composers for the harp.

His reputation as a harpist rested on his compositions for this instrument, as he expanded its technical and expressive range.

Bochsa was appointed harpist to the emperor in 1813, and he was even commissioned to compose a requiem for Louis XVI. He was a busy and shifty man who was appointed professor of harp and general secretary of the RAM in London.

He left behind plenty of bankruptcies and broken hearts in his wake and eventually died in Sydney, Australia, in 1856. And while his compositions for harp are not profound, he constantly discovered new effects and exploited the full possibilities of Erard’s new double-action harp. He also wrote a harp method that was long regarded as a classic.

The harp repertoire is truly vast, and it certainly deserves more attention. Would you please let me know what other works deserve to be featured?

The Schumann Piano Cycle Almost Nobody Plays Gesänge der Frühe

by Hermione Lai  July 29th, 2026

Are there still works by great composers that are practically unknown? Let’s take Robert Schumann, for example, and I wonder if professional pianists really know every single work he has written for the instrument.

Professionals probably do, but as an amateur pianist, I keep stumbling across pieces I had no idea existed.

To mark the anniversary of Schumann’s death on 29 July 1856, let us listen to one such rarity, the Gesänge der Frühe (Songs of Dawn) Op. 133, the last work Schumann himself prepared for printing.  

The Diotima Enigma

One day before Schumann threw himself into the Rhine River, he wrote to his publisher F.W. Arnold, “I do not wish to publish the Fughetten because of their mostly melancholy character and offer you another, recently completed work, “Gesänge der Frühe”, five characteristic pieces for pianoforte, dedicated to the poet Bettina von Arnim. These are pieces of music that depict the feelings as the morning approaches, but more as an expression of emotion than painting.”

Robert Schumann (1839)

It is probably difficult to know exactly what Schumann was thinking at this stage, but I read that this set was originally dedicated to “Diotima.” So, who was Diotima? She is one of the most intriguing figures in ancient Greek thought, teaching Socrates all about the nature of love.

I’ve had to look it up, but Diotima looked at love as much more than romantic desire. It is the longing for beauty and virtue that gradually elevates us to the pursuit of wisdom. At the highest level, love is eternal and perfect in contemplation of Beauty itself.

Whatever we make of this, her ideas had enormous influence on philosophy and theology, and her teachings in Plato’s Symposium remain highly influential in discussions of love in Western thought.  

Hölderlin’s Diotima

She has also inspired later artists and thinkers. For example, the German poet and novelist Friedrich Hölderlin named the beloved heroine of his novel Hyperion “Diotima,” transforming her into an idealised figure of beauty, love, and spiritual aspiration.

Friedrich Hölderlin (Pastell, 1792)

Schumann, as the son of a book dealer and probably the most widely read of all major composers, probably didn’t think of Plato, but of his favourite German poet and philosopher Friedrich Hölderlin, and specifically his novel Hyperion.

That novel is written as a series of letters from the protagonist Hyperion to his German friend Bellarmin, alongside a few letters between Hyperion and his love Diotima. The story, in brief, unfolds like this.

Hyperion is in love with Diotima, but he considers himself unworthy of her after becoming aware of his own deficiencies and dishonour. When Diotima dies of a broken heart before they can be reunited, Hyperion lives as a hermit in the Greek wilderness. His spiritual affection for Diotima eventually reveals to him the meaning of his own life.  

From Diotima to Bettina

It is clearly a mystery whether Schumann was thinking of Diotima as a symbolic figure or whether he wanted to refer directly to Hölderlin’s poems. In his list of compositions, the “Songs of Dawn” are only referred to as “Diotima,” with the entire work composed between 15 and 18 October 1853, roughly four months before Schumann attempted suicide.

There is another mystery in this, as Schumann dropped the subtitle “An Diotima” and dedicated the work to Bettina von Arnim. She was the widow of Achim von Arnim and the sister of Clemens Brentano, collectors and editors of the hugely influential Des Knaben Wunderhorn.

Bettina von Arnim

She was one of Beethoven’s muses, aroused the curiosity of Napoleon Bonaparte, and went for walks with Karl Marx. She also entertained a significant passion for Goethe, and both Schumann and Brahms dedicated songs to her.

Although she never wrote poetry, her writing outraged and fascinated people. She also composed music, and according to some, she was “a supreme muse, a one-woman literary movement, at once among the singular and most representative figures of the Romantic century.”

She didn’t like Clara Schumann’s performances as a pianist and always turned down Robert when he attempted to solicit contributions for his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik. But we do know that Bettina von Arnim, together with her daughter and Joseph Joachim, visited the Schumanns in Düsseldorf ten days after the “Songs of Dawn” were completed.

Bettina von Arnim also visited Schumann in Endenich in May 1855, having heard that Schumann was unhappy with his treatment at the asylum. Apparently, she later reported that the innovative regime to which Schumann was exposed was thoroughly unsatisfactory.

The Endenich maison de santé

Schumann was still working on the publication of Gesänge der Frühe in Endenich, and after von Arnim’s visit, he wrote to her. “I would be delighted if you, honoured lady, heard the Gesänge der Frühe from my Clara. She will also send you the songs. Would you grant me your favour for a long time to come?”

Clara Schumann, in turn, was deeply puzzled by the work. She wrote in her private diary that they were “quite original pieces again, but difficult to grasp; there is such a very strange mood in them.” She did play the cycle in private, but never included it in her public concert repertoire.

Mystical Fusion

With all this context, it is still difficult to get a handle on this set. Frequently, writers attempt to project Schumann’s mental state onto the music, but all we can say with certainty is that it represents the style characteristic of Schumann’s last creative phase.

Personally, I very much like the idea of pianist Burkard Schliessmann, who released a recording of late Schumann pieces in 2024. Titled “Robert Schumann’s Poetics: Mystical Fusion,” he suggests that Gesänge der Frühe is held together by a subtle network of thematic reminiscences and transformations, with the third piece functioning as the cycle’s expressive centre.

Robert Schumann: Fantasies (Burkard Schliessmann)

Schliessmann finds that the entire set is based on a single core motif, which is introduced in unison at the beginning. Individual movements don’t feature poetic inscriptions, certainly not in their published form. Rather, they feature simple tempo indications. The opening “In a tranquil tempo” opens almost like a chorale, but with plenty of dissonant intervals tossed in.

“Animated, not too quick,” is almost completely contrapuntal and “Lively,” the central and most virtuosic movement of the set, has a constant galloping rhythmic drive. “With motion” features a cascading accompaniment, which renders the music restless and agitated. “First tranquil, then moving in tempo,” returns us to the character and sonority of the first movement.

A Beautiful Mystery

This brings us to a difficult question to which I have no answer. Do we read Gesänge der Frühe in terms of Diotima, Hölderlin’s Hyperion, or in the context of Bettina von Arnim? We must also consider Schumann’s fragile mental state, and what we are left with is probably best summarised by Schliessmann. “The difficult accessibility of this complex work has led many pianists to give this opus a wide berth.”

Like everything Schumann wrote for the piano, Gesänge der Frühe does not readily give up its secrets. It’s this beautiful world of shifting shadows and fleeting glimpses, and I am not really sure it matters whether we know exactly what Schumann intended. To be invited into this most private space may be what matters most.

Carl Czerny (Died on July 15, 1857) Beyond the Exercises

 by Hermione Lai  July 15th, 2026

Carl Czerny was an incredibly industrious musician, teaching Franz Liszt and Theodor Leschetizky and thereby training the two most important piano teachers of the 19th century. He gave as many as ten or twelve lessons a day, yet he still found time to compose an enormous amount of music.

To commemorate his passing on 15 July 1857, let us look beyond Czerny’s familiar exercises and studies by exploring some of his finest piano concertos.

How Czerny Composed

Carl Czerny wrote an astonishing amount of music. He authored over a thousand works, including nine symphonies, string quartets, chamber music, and piano concertos. I’ve read reports that Czerny had four music desks set up in his studio.

According to an often-repeated anecdote, there was a different composition on each desk, in the process of being completed. Czerny would work on one until the end of the page, then move on to the next composition to do the same.

By the time he had finished the bottom of the page on the fourth desk, the ink on the first page was dry. He could then turn the page and continue with the composition. At any rate, true or embellished, it’s a good story.

Carl Czerny as a young man

Between Admiration and Neglect

Since Czerny was also a deeply religious man, he also wrote a great deal of liturgical music, including cantatas, hymns, and eleven Masses. Franz Liszt wrote to Otto Jahn in 1852 that it is a pity that, by his super-abundant productiveness, Czerny has necessarily weakened himself.

This idea is echoed in a number of dictionaries that state that the host of lesser works has involved the really good ones in undeserved forgetfulness. Czerny was also admired by Brahms, particularly for his insights into Beethoven and the performance of these works. “There should be more respect for this excellent man,” Brahms writes to Clara Schumann.

Carl Czerny, it seems, was well-respected as a pedagogue and as a pianist. However, he was very modest by nature and never prone to self-promotion. As a student of Beethoven, Czerny tirelessly promoted Beethoven’s music above his own.

In addition, Czerny was very popular with publishers, who couldn’t get enough of his countless potpourris, fantasies, and teaching pieces. However, his serious piano pieces were considered extremely difficult to play, and there probably wasn’t a great market for them.

Czerny’s Most Famous Concerto

The Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 214 is probably his most famous composition in this genre. It dates from 1829 and was published the following year in Leipzig. It is dedicated to the French composer, pianist, and music critic Amédée Méreaux, today remembered for his 60 Grandes Etudes, Op. 63.

Scored for strings, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, and timpani, Op. 214 occupies a stylistic position between the late Classical concerto tradition and the emerging Romantic virtuoso concerto.

The opening “Allegro moderato” is the longest and most substantial movement of the concerto, with a solemn orchestral introduction establishing a dramatic atmosphere. The piano enters with a dazzling display of virtuosity, which has been described as “a true compendium of the technical difficulties that pianists of the time were likely to address.”

Some commentators hear a possible Austrian folk tune in the “Adagio,” but above all, it highlights Czerny’s ability to write extended, graceful melodies that are reworked several times. The concluding “Rondo” is a cheerful dance movement with pianistic effects designed to astonish audiences.

For listeners who know Czerny only through his exercises, this concerto can be a genuine surprise. It is a large-scale and attractive concerto with flowing melodies and virtuoso demands.

Carl Czerny, 1833

Beethoven’s Influence

Although Op. 214 is often titled “Concerto No. 1,” it is hardly Czerny’s first effort in this genre. Only recently discovered, the Piano Concerto in D minor dates from 1812 and was written when Czerny was only twenty years old. It predates his famous Op. 214 by almost two decades.

This concerto bears the stylistic signature of a student deeply influenced by his teacher. Czerny began his studies with Beethoven around 1801, and by 1812, their relationship had evolved into profound admiration and respect.

Czerny openly acknowledged his indebtedness to Beethoven, and the opening “Allegro molto” unfolds as a turbulent landscape with the piano taking on the role of dramatic protagonist.

As listeners, we are treated to conversational dialogue, extended, flowing melodies, and a good deal of counterpoint. It also explores chromatic harmonies and heightened dramatic tension, with the piano anticipating the dazzling virtuosity later associated with Franz Liszt.

A surprisingly concise slow movement unfolds as a lyrical cantilena, creating a pastoral atmosphere, while the exuberant finale reveals that Czerny was more than a mere composer of exercises.

A Work of Adaptation

In this context, we might also mention the Piano Concerto in F Major, Op. 28. However, this is not an original piano concerto by Czerny, but a piano arrangement of the Third Guitar Concerto, Op. 70, by Mauro Giuliani.

The reason I have included this work as part of my blog on Czerny’s piano concertos is that it reveals yet another aspect of Czerny’s craft. Besides being a revered teacher and highly respected composer, he was also an accomplished transcriber.

In this work, Czerny transformed the solo guitar part into a highly idiomatic piano part. He retains Giuliani’s original structure, but expands the solo writing to suit the piano. He adds pianistic figuration and exploits textures impossible on the guitar.

With this arrangement, Czerny might have responded to market demands, and it was published in the early 1820s in Vienna and Paris. And since an original arrangement appears to have been crafted by Johann Nepomuk Hummel, the Czerny version is dedicated to him as well.

Concerto for Four Hands

Dating from around 1825, and first performed in public probably in 1828 at the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna, Czerny’s Concerto for piano four-hands and orchestra in C Major, Op. 153, might well be one of his most attractive compositions.

This work adds yet another side to Czerny’s craft, as he experiments with a highly unusual concerto medium. We know the two-piano concertos by Felix Mendelssohn and Max Bruch, but Czerny predated them by decades.

A substantial “Allegro” features an energetic orchestral introduction, immediately followed by sparkling passagework in the piano. The music seems to probe the possibilities of four-hand playing, and Czerny also pays meticulous attention to each section of the orchestra.

A graceful “Adagio” provides the lyrical contrast, with plenty of trills and flourishes emphasising a mournful theme. The orchestra is reduced in spots, providing an almost chamber-like quality to the music.

The concluding “Rondo alla Polacca” uses the same title as Beethoven’s Triple Concerto, and this exuberant polonaise is enlivened by dazzling keyboard figuration and playful dialogues. The two pianists weave a tapestry of surprising complexity, yet they never get in each other’s way despite the virtuoso nature of the score.

In the featured concertos, we find Czerny far removed from his narrow image as an “exercise composer.” He was a musician of real imagination, drawing on Beethovenian drama and Viennese elegance to lead music into the emerging virtuosity of the 19th century.

Elim Chan (Born on November 18, 1986) Feminine Revolution in Conducting

 by Hermione Lai  November 18th, 2025

When one thinks of classical orchestral conducting, a specific image often surfaces. We tend to see a tall, authoritative male figure wielding a baton, commanding an ensemble of dozens in a symphonic ritual.

Into this traditionally male-dominated picture, Elim Chan enters not as an exception but as a sign of change. She is a conductor whose very existence challenges that old model, and whose career heralds a broader transformation in classical music.

Elim Chan

To celebrate her birthday on 18 November 1986, let’s explore how Chan’s trajectory, achievements, and identity contribute to a feminine revolution in conducting.  

Breaking Batons and Boundaries

Elim Chan

From Hong Kong-born beginnings, Elim Chan’s rapid ascent is itself noteworthy.

In 2014, she became the first female winner of the prestigious Donatella Flick Conducting Competition, conducting the London Symphony Orchestra in works by Beethoven, Stravinsky and Rimsky-Korsakov.

As a reward, she served as assistant conductor with the LSO in 2015–16. Subsequently, she was appointed chief conductor of the Antwerp Symphony Orchestra for the 2019-20 season, and served as principal guest conductor of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra from 2018 to 2023.

These milestones are significant, not only because she is a woman, but also because she is young, Asian-born, and stepping into roles that were rarely, if ever, held by women before.   

Shattering the Baton Ceiling

The world of orchestral conducting has for decades been dominated by men. Women conductors were few and often seen as exceptions or novelties rather than the norm.

Chan’s presence disrupts that pattern in multiple ways. Her appointment and visibility challenge the implicit assumption that the podium is an exclusively “male” domain.

Beyond symbolic significance, Chan has earned wide respect for her craft. Reviewers describe her as “a rare example of a young conductor at once brilliant and not in the least showing off.”  

Beyond the Spotlight

Elim Chan

Chan has acknowledged the dual pressure of visibility and scrutiny faced by women in conducting. And while the opportunities are increasing, “just one mistake, and, look, she’s not ready.”

Chan’s contribution goes beyond symbolism. Her conducting style has been praised for elegance, precision and emotional insight. Her approach, including clear beat, economical gestures, and sensitivity, draws favourable comparison to great conductors of past generations.

Her presence is not just a novelty. It is grounded in serious artistic merit. In so doing, she helps shift perceptions about what a woman conductor can do, not just who she is.   

Progress and Persistence

Chan herself recalls being inspired by female conductors in her early life in Hong Kong, and she has now become a role model for young female musicians and conductors. She has emphasised that women must “find their own way of leading, of being true to themselves, whether you wear a dress, or pants, have short or long hair. Authenticity is very powerful.”

While much progress has been made, Chan’s story also highlights that work still needs to be done. She commented that “not all orchestras are ready for someone like me,” as entrenched resistance remains.

Women are still under-represented in chief conductor roles, and mistakes or criticism can impose extra pressure. With novelty comes expectation, and Chan will continue to make bold artistic choices without being boxed in by identity.   

The Sound of Chance

Elim Chan

We could actually call Elim Chan a harbinger of change. Her presence at the top levels of orchestral conducting signals a rupture of the old model.

By excelling artistically, embracing her background and identity, and leading major orchestras, she proves that a feminine revolution in conducting is not just about gender, but about expanding what leadership in classical music can look like and who it can come from.

Celebrating Chan’s journey, we find a broader transformation where young musicians of all backgrounds can imagine themselves standing at the front. Her very existence on the podium is a bold statement, as the stereotype has been broken and a new agreement is being written.

Best Yuja Wang Encores (Born on February 10, 1987) Confetti, Fireworks, and Fingers on Fire

 

 by Hermione Lai  February 10th, 2026

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.