The Divine Artistry of Johann Sebastian Bach 10 of His Greatest Choruses

by Georg Predota

Johann Sebastian Bach’s music stands as a towering monument in Western music. While countless composers have written exceptional choral music, Bach’s greatest choruses intertwine technical perfection and profound emotional resonance to create moments of transcendent beauty.

Portrait of J.S. Bach

Christmas Oratorio   

Bach’s choruses are not merely perfect technical exercises but living expressions of human devotion, of joy and sorrow, and of awe. Every chorus pulses with intricate counterpoint, vibrant harmonies, and a transcendent ability to connect with something much greater.

To commemorate Bach’s death on 28 July 1750, let us celebrate his life by featuring 10 of his greatest choruses, starting with the opening chorus from the Christmas Oratorio. It bursts forth with an exultant energy that feels like the heavens themselves are rejoicing.

The vibrant timpani rolls and blazing trumpets create a majestic, almost overwhelming wave of sound, as if heralding the arrival of divine light. The choir’s jubilant voices weave through Bach’s intricate counterpoint, each line soaring with unbridled joy and reverence, inviting the listener into a sacred celebration that transcends time.

It’s a moment of awe, where the grandeur of music and spiritual depth converge to proclaim eternal hope.

Reformation Glory

A postcard featuring Johann Sebastian Bach

Composed for Reformation Day, “A might fortress is our God” is one of Bach’s most powerful and intricately constructed choral works. The cantata draws on Martin Luther’s iconic hymn, a cornerstone of the Lutheran tradition that celebrates God’s unyielding strength and protection against spiritual and worldly adversaries.

The opening chorus burst forth with an electrifying energy. The choir enters with a commanding declaration before breaking into intricate counterpoint. This creates a sense of unity and strength, with the unshakable foundation of the hymn melody surrounded by layers of complexity symbolising the multifaceted nature of faith.

The emotional resonance of this chorus lies in its ability to balance grandeur with intimacy. While the intensity of the music evokes the image of a cosmic battle, Bach also projects moments of exquisite tenderness, creating a fleeting sense of warmth and reassurance. This chorus is a spiritual journey with all of humanity united in a final, triumphant cadence.

Plea for Peace   

The “Dona nobis pacem” chorus, which closes Johann Sebastian Bach’s monumental Mass in B Minor, is a profound and awe-inspiring culmination of one of the greatest works in Western music. It emerges as a fervent plea for peace, its majestic simplicity and emotional resonance encapsulating an unbelievable spiritual and musical journey.

Bach employs a double fugue that weaves together two distinct themes. A broad and soaring melody is combined with a more intricate and rhythmic idea, making the tapestry of sound feel both universal and deeply personal.

This fugue structure, with its intricate interplay of voices, showcases Bach’s unparalleled technical skill. Yet, the technical complexity never overshadows the heartfelt supplication of the text. The repeated phrase “Grant us peace” is delivered with a rhythmic insistence that actually feels like a heartbeat, grounding the music in a deeply human appeal.

Jubilant Proclamation

J.S. Bach featured on a stamp design

The opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 147, Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben (Heart and Mouth and Deed and Life), is a radiant and jubilant proclamation of faith, composed in 1723 during Bach’s first year in Leipzig. The chorus bursts forth with an infectious vitality that perfectly embodies the cantata’s theme of wholehearted devotion.

Bach’s masterful interplay of voices and instruments creates a soundscape that feels both majestic and intimate, inviting the listener into a profound expression of spiritual commitment. Structurally, the chorus is a choral fantasia, built around a chorale tune placed in the soprano as long and sustained notes.

The other voices engage in intricate, imitative counterpoint, weaving a web of motivic interplay that reflects the text’s call to every aspect of life to testify to faith. The emotional resonance of the chorus lies in its balance of exuberance and sincerity. The text’s emphasis on holistic devotion is mirrored in the music’s all-encompassing energy, with each vocal and instrumental line contributing to a unified expression of faith.

Splendour and Sorrow    

Composed in 1724 for Good Friday services in Leipzig, the opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s St. John Passion “Lord our Ruler,” erupts with tempestuous energy. One of Bach’s most dramatic and emotionally charged works, its swirling orchestral textures and urgent vocal lines beautifully capture the profound reverence of the Passion narrative.

Bach’s music masterfully balances awe for Christ’s divine majesty with an undercurrent of sorrow for the impending crucifixion, creating a soundscape that is both regal and deeply human. The orchestra, with its driving strings, plaintive oboes, and pulsing continuo, sets a restless, almost turbulent tone, while the choir’s powerful entrance amplifies the sense of cosmic significance, drawing the listener into the sacred drama.

Bach constructs this chorus as a complex, quasi-fugal edifice, with the voices entering in waves of imitative counterpoint that mirror the text’s invocation of Christ’s eternal glory. He uses dark and expressive minor tonalities with chromatic inflexions and dissonant suspensions to heighten the emotional impact. It all culminates in a radiant cadence, however, as Bach assures us of divine triumph.

Triumphant Awakening  

The Triumphant Awakening of Bach’s opening chorus from the cantata Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, is a radiant and exhilarating call to spiritual vigilance. Inspired by the parable of the wise virgins awaiting the bridegroom, the chorus bursts forth with a sense of urgency and joy.

The majestic orchestral introduction is driven by a lively dotted rhythm, and the soaring melodic lines evoke a divine summons. The orchestra, featuring strings, oboes, and a prominent horn, creates a festive, almost ceremonial atmosphere, with syncopated rhythms and fanfare-like figures that pulse with expectancy.

Here, as elsewhere, Bach seamlessly blends grandeur and intimacy, with the cosmic significance of Christ’s arrival balanced by lyrical moments that evoke personal devotion. As voices and instruments unite in a triumphant close, the music becomes a stirring summons to spiritual awakening, its exuberance and craftsmanship leaving listeners uplifted by Bach’s vision of divine anticipation.

Defiant Joy

Bach’s statue in Leipzig

The opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 4, Christ Lay in Death’s Bonds, is a gripping and jubilant proclamation of Christ’s victory over death. Based on the Easter hymn by Martin Luther, the stark yet radiant orchestration establishes a tone of both solemnity and exultation.

The text celebrates the Resurrection, and Bach’s music captures this duality with a masterful blend of archaic severity and vibrant optimism. Luther’s hymn melody is woven through the texture in long, sustained notes, serving as an anchor of faith amidst the intricate polyphony of the other voices.

The minor tonality lends a sombre, almost austere quality, reflecting the gravity of Christ’s sacrifice, but Bach infuses it with bright, major-key inflexions at key moments, particularly when the text symbolises the light of resurrection. It is a cosmic affirmation of life over death.

Celestial Joy   

The opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 1, How Brightly Shines the Morning Star is a jubilant celebration of Christ, who brings divine light to humanity. This chorus bursts forth with an effervescent energy, its orchestral introduction featuring a sparkling interplay that evokes the shimmering brilliance of a starlit dawn.

The text, based on Philipp Nicolai’s 1599 hymn, exudes joy and hope, and Bach’s music amplifies this with a festive, almost dance-like vitality. The choir’s proclamation radiates warmth and devotion, drawing us into a moment of spiritual awe and exultation.

As in his other choral fantasias, Bach presents the hymn melody in long and sustained notes in the soprano, while the lower voice weaves intricate counterpoint that pulses with energy and delight. The festive scale of the music conveys the cosmic significance, while tender vocal interplay evokes personal devotion. It is a radiant testament to Bach’s ability to translate theological joy into sounds of transcendent beauty.

Heavenly Exultation  

The opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cantata BWV 191, Gloria in excelsis Deo, is a resplendent and jubilant outburst of praise. This chorus radiates with a festive brilliance, its orchestral texture ablaze with trumpets, timpani, flutes, oboes, and strings that create a sonic tapestry of divine celebration.

Bach captures the text drawn from the Latin Mass with an irrepressible energy that feels like a heavenly fanfare. From the opening measures, the orchestra establishes a mood of unrestrained joy, while the entrance of the choir as a unifying and exultant force draws us into a moment of awe-inspired worship.

This masterful choral fugue showcases Bach’s unparalleled skill in blending technical complexity with emotional accessibility. The interplay of voices and instruments is seamless, and the balance between grandeur and heartfelt devotion culminates in a radiant and triumphant universal hymn of praise. What an unbelievable vision of divine glory!

Divine Innocence    

The opening chorus of Johann Sebastian Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, is a monumental and deeply moving introduction to one of the most profound works in Western music. Set in the minor key, this chorus immediately immerses the listener in the Passion’s dramatic and emotional landscape, blending heart-wrenching sorrow with awe-inspiring grandeur.

The orchestral introduction, with its pulsating, syncopated rhythms and mournful string lines, evokes the weight of impending tragedy, with the entrance of the choir imploring the daughters of Zion to join in lamentation.

It’s pure genius, as Bach actually employs two choirs engaging in a dialogic interplay, their voices weaving together in a dense, imitative texture that reflects the communal mourning of Christ’s sacrifice. The emotional power lies in Bach’s ability to balance raw sorrow with transcendent majesty, setting the stage for the Passions’ profound exploration of sacrifice and salvation.

Bonus Chorus

It’s impossible to design a playlist of Bach’s 10 greatest Choruses without the serene devotion of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” Part of Cantata BWV 147, it is one of Bach’s most beloved and enduring works as it exquisitely balances simplicity with sophistication.

The choir’s straightforward presentation of the chorale melody, with its clear, hymn-like phrasing, anchors the movement in a direct expression of faith, while the orchestra’s continuous, lilting triplet figures add a layer of delicate complexity, symbolising the constant presence of divine grace.

Johann Sebastian Bach’s 10 greatest choruses stand as towering testaments to his unparalleled genius, blending technical virtuosity with profound emotional and spiritual resonance. His mastery of counterpoint, innovative orchestration, and expressive harmonies creates a timeless dialogue between faith and artistry, affirming Bach as one of history’s greatest musical architects.

Your Favorite Composers’ Favorite Composers

by Emily E. Hogstad 

Pop star Chappell Roan has adopted a slogan for herself that has become famous: “I’m your favourite artist’s favourite artist!”

Who’s the equivalent in the classical music world? Have you ever wondered who your favourite composer’s favourite composer was?

Sometimes it’s hard to tell from the historical record. Lots of great composers didn’t have a single favourite composer, or they never recorded their thoughts using those words exactly, so listeners are left to make educated guesses.

But even if we can’t always know their favourite, we can usually guess at their favourites. And a couple of names appear again and again… Read on to find out who!

© classicalregister.com

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)

When he was twenty years old, Johann Sebastian Bach set off on a 400-kilometre (250-mile) hike to the city of Lübeck.

His object was to hear the nearly 80-year-old organist Dieterich Buxtehude. Bach met him, heard his music performed, and even copied out some of his musical manuscripts.

Bach had originally intended to return home within a month, but he found Buxtehude’s work so fascinating that he stayed away for multiple months.

Understandably, relations with his employer were frayed upon returning home!  

Bach also appreciated the work of Italian composer Antonio Vivaldi. He transcribed multiple Vivaldi violin concertos for organ. Read more about that: The “Harmonic Inspiration” of Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741): “L’estro armonico”.

Bach’s personal thoughts and opinions are not well-documented, so we will never know for sure who Bach’s favourite composers were. But he was clearly impressed by these two.

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Joseph Haydn met Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart sometime in the early 1780s.

In 1785, Wolfgang’s father, Leopold, recorded that Haydn told him:

Before God and as an honest man, I tell you that your son is the greatest composer known to me either in person or by name; he has taste, and, furthermore, the most profound knowledge of composition.   

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

In London in the mid-1760s, when Mozart was a boy, he studied with Johann Christian Bach, Johann Sebastian’s composer son.

In later years, Mozart remembered J.C. Bach’s instruction fondly, and he continued to seek out his new works in the following years.

Musicologist Alfred Einstein notes that, aside from Haydn, J.C. Bach was the only musician whom Mozart never criticised in his letters.

Mozart once told musical patron and diplomat Gottfried van Swieten, “Bach is the father. We are the children!”   

Mozart also adored Haydn, writing six string quartets in his honour, known as the Haydn quartets. 

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

In 1817, English composer Cipriani Potter and Beethoven went on a walk in the woods together. Potter asked Beethoven, “Apart from yourself, who do you consider the greatest living composer?”

Beethoven’s answer was Italian composer Luigi Cherubini.

A few years later, Beethoven would write to Cherubini:

I am enraptured whenever I hear a new work of yours and feel as great an interest in it as in my own works – in brief, I honour and love you.

He also called him “Europe’s foremost dramatic composer.”

Learn more about Beethoven’s thoughts on Cherubini.   

Beethoven also once said, “Handel was the greatest composer that ever lived. I would uncover my head and kneel before his tomb.”

Handel died a decade before Beethoven’s birth. Perhaps Handel was his favourite dead composer and Cherubini his favourite living one.   

Richard Wagner (1813-1883)

Richard Wagner was just about to turn fourteen when Beethoven died. The loss shocked him to his core.

Richard would have dreams in which he spoke to Shakespeare and Beethoven, and wake up with his face wet with tears.

As a young composer, he was especially overwhelmed by the scale of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. He would later write:

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony became the mystical goal of all my strange thoughts and desires about music… It was considered the ‘non plus ultra’ of all that was fantastic and incomprehensible, and this was quite enough to rouse in me a passionate desire to study this mysterious work.

He even made a piano transcription of it when still a student.   

Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849)

In his biography of Frédéric Chopin, author Alan Walker writes:

The two composers Chopin admired above all others were Bach and Mozart – although we must question just how much Bach he knew…

The one work of Bach with which we know Chopin to have been intimately acquainted was the 48 Preludes and Fugues, many of which he mastered during his youth and could still play from memory in later life…

Mozart was a different matter. Chopin was familiar with the piano sonatas and some of the chamber music (especially the E major Piano Trio, K. 542, which he played in public), and his love of the operas was unconditional.

Perhaps his favourite Mozart opera was Don Giovanni, which he had known since his youth. But he adored as well the Requiem, which he is known to have heard twice in Paris, including the performance arranged for the reburial of Emperor Napoléon in 1840. It appears to have been this latter performance that generated a desire within him to have the work played at his own funeral, a wish that was carried out by his friends, though not without difficulty.

Learn more about Chopin’s funeral and the performance of Mozart’s Requiem that happened at it.

Here’s Chopin’s Op. 2, variations on a theme from Don Giovanni:  

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)

Felix Mendelssohn’s great-aunt Sarah Itzig Levy studied harpsichord with Johann Sebastian Bach’s eldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach. She also commissioned work by another Bach son, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach.

Sarah Itzig Levy helped keep the flame of appreciation for Johann Sebastian’s music burning even as his music fell out of fashion.

Felix’s father also bought a number of Johann Sebastian Bach’s manuscripts when Felix was a child.

In 1823 or 1824, when he was fifteen, his grandmother gifted Felix a score of the St. Matthew Passion.

Mendelssohn became obsessed. Just five years later, he mounted a performance of the Passion (albeit with a few cuts), helping to pave the path for a Johann Sebastian Bach renaissance in Germany.   

Franz Liszt (1811-1886)

Toward the end of his long life, Franz Liszt claimed that in 1823, when he was still a boy, he performed for Ludwig van Beethoven. (At the time, Liszt was studying piano under Beethoven’s former student Carl Czerny.)

Liszt’s recounting of the details of the meeting was fuzzy, so his account has to be taken with a grain of salt. But supposedly he played a Bach fugue and the first movement of Beethoven’s C-major piano concerto.

When he finished, Beethoven kissed his forehead and declared:

Go! You are one of the fortunate ones! For you will give joy and happiness to many other people! There is nothing better or finer!

Decades later, Liszt would tell a student of the encounter, “This event in my life has remained my greatest pride—the palladium of my whole career as an artist.”

One thing we know for sure: Beethoven’s bravura style rubbed off on Liszt, and Liszt made landmark transcriptions of all nine Beethoven Symphonies for piano.  

Liszt was also a major supporter of the music of his contemporary, Richard Wagner, who ended up marrying his daughter, Cosima. Liszt wrote transcriptions of Wagner’s works.

Liszt’s transcription of Wagner’s Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde  

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)

In the Cambridge Companion to Mozart, there’s a passage about Johannes Brahms’s relationship with Mozart’s music.

[Brahms’s] documented remarks on Mozart include stereotypical references to the perfection of Figaro and the beauty of the string quartets, but they also speak to a broader appreciation of Mozart’s stylistic range.

In conversation late in his life with the critic and composer Richard Heuberger, Brahms mentioned in passing that Mozart was more daring in his handling of form than Beethoven, and added: “It’s a good thing most people don’t know that.”

Pyotr Tchaikovsky (1840-1893)

Tchaikovsky and Brahms didn’t care for each other, but they both loved Mozart.

In his 1889 autobiography, Tchaikovsky wrote about hearing Don Giovanni as a teenager:

It was a pure revelation to me. It is impossible for me to describe the enthusiasm, the delight and intoxication which I was seized by.

During several weeks, I did nothing but play this opera through from the piano score; even as I fell asleep, I could not part with this divine music, which pursued me long into my happy dreams…

Amongst the great masters, Mozart is the one to whom I feel most attracted; it has been so ever since that day, and it will always be like that.

He wrote to his patroness Nadezhda von Meck in 1878:

I not only love Mozart – I worship him…

It is to Mozart that I am obliged for the fact that I have dedicated my life to music. He gave the first impulse to my musical powers and made me love music more than anything else in the world.

He later went on to write his fourth orchestral suite (nicknamed Mozartiana) to celebrate the centenary of Don Giovanni.   

Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)

Gustav Mahler adored Beethoven so much that he took it upon himself to reorchestrate some of his symphonies.  

Not surprisingly, the project was controversial!

But Mahler’s favourite composer may have been Richard Wagner. He spent much of his musical career as an opera conductor and spent years poring over and advocating for Wagner’s operas.

As a young composer, he famously said, “When Wagner has spoken, let others hold their tongues.”

Conclusion

It seems pretty clear that in the classical music world, Mozart and Beethoven would claim the crown of your favourite composers’ favourite composer! But the runners-up definitely include Wagner and members of the Bach family.

10 Pieces of Classical Music About Childhood

by Emily E. Hogstad  

Classical music sometimes has a reputation of being solely for elderly people. If that’s true (spoiler alert: it’s not), it’s certainly strange how many pieces of classical music are about childhood and youth.

Today we’re looking at classical music inspired by childhood.

© soundgirls.org

Robert Schumann: Kinderszenen (1838) 

Robert Schumann’s Kinderszenen (“Songs from Childhood”) is a set of thirteen pieces for solo piano about childhood.

Robert was twenty-eight at the time he wrote these pieces, and he was dating the nineteen-year-old piano superstar Clara Wieck.

For a variety of reasons, Clara had always been mature for her age, and at one point she observed that Robert was “like a child.” Robert, amused, decided to embrace his childlike nature, took her idea, and ran with it.

The pieces in this collection include Blind Man’s Buff, Knight of the Hobbyhorse, and, most famously, Dreaming (better-known by its German title, Träumerei). 

Teresa Carreño: Mi Teresita (ca 1885) 

Teresa Carreño was one of the most famous women composers of her generation, and Mi Teresita (“My Little Teresa”) is one of her most famous works.

It’s a waltz that was written for her third child, Teresita, who had been born in 1882. (As a bit of trivia, Carreño had six children in all: one by French violinist Émile Sauret, three by Italian baritone Giovanni Tagliapietra, and two more by German pianist Eugen d’Albert.)

Teresita would become a concert pianist like her mother.

Amy Beach: Children’s Carnival (1894) 

In 1894, twenty-seven-year-old American composer Amy Beach wrote six charming piano pieces for young players. She called the works Children’s Carnival.

The Carnival portrayed different stock characters often found in commedia dell’arte or pantomime, such as the meddling merchant Pantalon, the street-smart and gossipy maid Columbina, and her nimble, quick-thinking love interest, Harlequin.

Beach portrays each character with sweet and satisfying innocence.

Claude Debussy: Children’s Corner (1906-08) 

In January 1905, Claude Debussy’s married mistress Emma Bardac became pregnant. That spring, both Debussy and Bardac divorced from their respective spouses.

In October 1905, their little daughter Claude-Emma, whom they nicknamed Chouchou, was born. Debussy found Chouchou to be delightful beyond words.

Debussy with his daughter Chou-Chou

To celebrate his love for her, he wrote a six-movement suite of piano pieces called Children’s Corner. The work’s translated dedication reads, “To my dear little Chouchou, with tender apologies from her father for what follows.”

Children’s Corner portrays various scenes from childhood, including a serenade for a doll, a lullaby for an elephant, and a portrait of dancing snow.

John Alden Carpenter: Adventures in a Perambulator (1914)  

John Alden Carpenter was a composer born in Illinois in 1876. He studied music as a young man but chose not to make his living in music, instead joining the family shipping business as vice-president.

In 1914, he composed an orchestral portrait of his baby daughter Ginny’s day, perhaps taking inspiration from Richard Strauss, who, in 1903, had immortalized his own wife and baby in a tone poem called Symphonia Domestica.

Baby in Perambulator

Carpenter provided an incredibly detailed description of Ginny’s day from her perspective:

Every morning – after my second breakfast – if the wind and the sun are favorable, I go out. I should like to go alone, but my will is overborne…

Almost satiated with adventure, my Nurse firmly pushes me on, and almost before I recover my balance I am face to face with new sensation. The land comes to an end, and there at my feet is The Lake…

We pass on. Probably there is nothing more in the World. If there is, it is superfluous. There IS. It is Dogs!

Read more about Adventures in a Perambulator.

Florence Price: “To My Little Son” (ca 1915) 

Sometime around 1915, composer Florence Price set a melancholy poem by Julia Johnson Davis to music.

In your face I sometimes see
shadowings of the man to be
And eager dream of what my son shall be
in twenty years and one…

This was an especially poignant song for Price to set, as she lost a baby boy in infancy.

Edward Elgar: Nursery Suite (1931) 

Nursery Suite is one of the last pieces of music that Elgar ever wrote. In 1930, a 73-year-old Elgar told a friend that he’d recently found a box of music in manuscript dating from his youth.

His friend suggested that he work them up into something to celebrate the recent birth of Princess Margaret. He agreed, and by the following year he produced a sweet little orchestral suite with movement titles like “The Sad Doll” and “The Merry Doll.”

Elgar expanded the dedication: the final work was dedicated to Princess Margaret, Princess Elizabeth (the future Elizabeth II), and their mother, the Duchess of York.

Sergei Prokofiev: Peter and the Wolf (1936) 

Peter and the Wolf was commissioned by the director of the Central Children’s Theatre in Moscow. She wanted Prokofiev to write a special symphony for children.

Peter, the work’s protagonist, plays in a meadow, listening to a whole menagerie of animals symbolised by various instruments.

Peter’s grandfather warns him of a gray wolf who might come to attack him. On cue, the wolf makes an appearance. Luckily, with the help of his animal friends, Peter is able to catch it.

Hunters come out of the forest, ready to kill the wolf, but Peter convinces them to put the wolf in a cage and bring it to a zoo instead. They do so in triumphant formation. At the last minute, a quacking comes from the wolf’s stomach: he has eaten the duck whole!

The work has proven to be incredibly popular and enduring, and it is often used even today as an introduction to the orchestra and orchestral instruments.

Benjamin Britten: The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra (1945) 

In the mid-1940s, composer Benjamin Britten was commissioned to score an educational documentary called Instruments of the Orchestra.

The main theme comes from another famous British composer: Henry Purcell‘s incidental music to Aphra Behn’s Abdelazer.

Each section shows off a different part of the orchestra, helping young listeners (of all ages!) to appreciate the uniqueness of each one.

Interestingly, there is a version with narration and another one without.

Samuel Barber: Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (1947) 

Samuel Barber’s Knoxville: Summer of 1915 is for orchestra and soprano soloist. It is a nostalgic portrait of the narrator’s childhood.

The lyrics are from a 1938 prose poem by James Agee, describing the summer before his father died in a car accident:

On the rough, wet grass of the back yard, my father and mother have spread quilts. We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there….They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet, of nothing in particular, of nothing at all. The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they seem very near…

Barber’s music beautifully captures the uneasy poignancy of Agee’s words.

Conclusion

So there you have it: ten pieces of classical music about childhood and youth.

Did you have a favorite piece of classical music as a child? Is it still a favorite now? Let us know!

How Conductors Explain Conducting

by Janet Horvath, Interlude

When audiences are transported by a concert, they imagine that a kind of magic happens onstage attributed to the conductor. Sometimes that is true. But many other attendees wonder: what does a conductor actually do?

We’re in luck. Several conductors have shared their theories about how to conduct. Richard Strauss for example, who was not only a wonderful composer but also an exacting conductor, published these instructive Ten Golden Rules for the Album of a Young Conductor in 1927. We published them in 2015 but many of them bear repeating here:

• Remember that you are making music not to amuse yourself, but to delight your audience.

• You should not perspire when conducting. Only the audience should get warm.

(My teacher Janos Starker used to say, “Don’t be so moved. Move your audiences.”)

• Never look encouragingly at the brass except with a brief glance to give an important cue.

(Richard Wagner quipped, “Never look at the trombones…It only encourages them.” This quote is also attributed to Strauss!)

• But never let the horns and woodwinds out of your sight. If you can hear them at all, they are still too strong.

• It is not enough that you yourself should hear every word the soloist sings. You should know it by heart anyway. The audience must be able to follow without effort. If they do not understand the words, they will go to sleep.

• When you think you have reached the limits of prestissimo, double the pace.

Some conductors do accelerate to unplayable tempos. I’ve experienced it! Strauss later, in 1948, changed his mind: Today I should like to amend this. Take the tempo half as fast.

Conductor and legendary pianist Daniel Barenboim seconds that notion:

“The tempo is the suitcase. If the suitcase is too small, everything is completely wrinkled. If the tempo is too fast, everything becomes so scrambled you can’t understand it.”

Herbert von Karajan, the famed conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic added, “Quick music sounds dull unless every note is articulated.”

Renowned composer and conductor Gustav Mahler agreed, “If you think you’re boring your audience go slower not faster.”

Gustav Mahler

There are a lot of opinions on how to interpret music and there are often differences in timing and tempo. Take Beethoven’s famous opening to his Symphony No. 5. I think you’ll be surprised by the versions of the first four bars from Carlos Kleiber, Claudio Abbado, Herbert von Karajan, Pierre Boulez, Bruno Walter, and John Eliot Gardiner. Carlos Kleiber with Vienna plays in a refined style, while Pierre Boulez leads a diabolically slow opening to the 5th.

Comparing 5 conductors VERY different openings of Beethoven 5th Symphony (& why they chose that) 

Aside from being a timekeeper, what more does a conductor do? During an interview when asked this question, Sir Simon Rattle responded, “It’s one of the great fake professions…We are nothing without the orchestra…”

Sir Simon Rattle

Simon Rattle | What Does A Conductor Actually Do?

South Korean pianist and conductor Myung Whun Chung recently elaborated,

“A conductor almost by definition is a strange animal; he is the only musician on stage that makes no sound, yet he is responsible for everyone else’s. I often would like to think of myself as just a colleague or collaborator with the other musicians, but ultimately, we must come together to be the truthful messengers of the composer we play – and make their music come alive!”

Like other professions, sometimes there’s a domineering and controlling boss. We orchestral players have been subject to heavy-handed conductors, ones we disagree with, or even incapable ones we must ignore.

We’re surprised that Herbert von Karajan, the maestro with a legendary sound, who was an autocrat, once said, “The art of conducting consists in knowing when to stop conducting to let the orchestra play.”

And this is fascinating. Simon Rattle on Karajan:

Simon Rattle on Herbert von Karajan 

Leonard Bernstein, who was the music director of the New York Philharmonic from 1957-1970 and recorded with them until the end of his life, puts it in a nutshell,

“Conducting is like making love to a hundred people at the same time.”

The wonderful thing about music-making is that each orchestra has a personality and will sound different depending on the maestro in front of them. And we can tell from the first upbeat in the music whether the leader is any good. One conductor will inspire a refined, polished sound while another will coax a more robust and aggressive quality, and everything is reflected through the different people onstage.

Conducting gestures vary. The stick or hand technique is essential, but every gesture, facial expression, and overall body language matters.

Here’s an illustration:

Breaking down orchestra conducting gestures to show you what they mean 

Many conductors have an affinity to certain music and a predilection for conducting those works. Our former music director Osmo Vänskä, for example, was terrific with the works of Jean Sibelius but not comfortable with French music. The Minnesota Orchestra’s complete recordings of all the Beethoven Symphonies are considered one of the best, especially of the 4th and 5th symphonies. Other wonderful interpreters include Otto Klemperer, Riccardo Chailly, with Leipzig Gewandhaus orchestra, and Carlos Kleiber. Wilhelm Furtwängler’s Beethoven No. 9 performance at the Bayreuth Festspielhaus live in 1951 is notable, and Karajan of course.

Watch this rare live video of excerpts of Beethoven Symphony No. 9 being rehearsed and performed by Herbert von Karajan and the Berliner Philharmoniker. It’s their New Year’s Eve concert of 1977 and was the first ever to be broadcast live.

Excerpts of Beethoven’s 9 rehearsal and performance by Herbert von Karajan (1977) 

Some composers inspire controversy, and Maher was certainly one of them. Gustav Mahler, the Vienna Philharmonic and Vienna Opera conductor from 1898-1901 and beyond, is quoted as saying, “A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.” Admired Mahler interpreters include Leonard Bernstein, who was critical in reviving Mahler’s music.

Claudio Abbado, Klaus Tennstedt, Rafael Kubelik, and Sir Simon Rattle, who says, “The Mahler virus is incurable,” are also noted Mahler interpreters. But here’s a caveat from von Karajan.

“Mahler’s music is full of dangers and traps, and one of them, which many fall into, is over sensualizing the thing until it becomes sort of …kitsch.” (‘Kitsch’— when art is considered in poor taste due to garishness or sentimentality.)

From Maestro: Encounters With Conductors of Today
Helena Matheopoulos book “Maestro” consisting of interviews with the world’s twenty-three top orchestral conductors.

Conductors tend to disagree on this subject too. One’s tasteless interpretation is another’s deep revelation.

Strauss even said so, “Must one become seventy years old to recognize that one’s greatest strength lies in creating musical kitsch?”

You might ask, can an orchestra play without a conductor? Of course we can.

I recently came across an outstanding orchestra that plays without a conductor. Now don’t get me wrong. There is a long tradition of smaller ensembles, chamber orchestras, that play without a conductor. In fact, we have one here in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul—the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra. Their stellar performances often lead me to say, “they must be psychic!” as they do not only relegate themselves to so-called classical repertoire of Haydn and Mozart, but they play challenging contemporary works such as Bartók Divertimento, with aplomb and brilliance.

The Going Home Project Orchestra based in Korea plays large-scale works without a conductor including, Stravinsky Rite of Spring, an exceedingly complex work with difficult rhythms and tempo changes. Uncanny. I was flabbergasted at their brilliance as well as their impeccable ensemble. The famous bassoon opening is gorgeous, and the playing of the orchestra throughout is virtuosic.

Self-conducted Live Performance of “Le Sacre du Printemps” 

But the maestro can make magic happen onstage and then it’s inexplicable even to us. Whatever the interpretation we agree with von Karajan,

“To be involved professionally in a thing as creative as music is a great privilege and we have a duty to make in such a way that we can help bring pleasure and a sense of fulfillment to those who are not so fortunate {to be able to play music}.” From Osborne’s Conversations.

I hope this explains conducting. But if you’d like to know more, here is a delightful interview with Simon Rattle, who speaks candidly about his art.