‘Maestro’: First look at Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein in Netflix biopic

Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

By Sophia Alexandra Hall

@sophiassocials

 

Bradley Cooper and British actress, Carey Mulligan, star in the new Netflix biopic about the legendary American conductor and composer, Leonard Bernstein. 

Directed by and starring Bradley Cooper as the maestro himself, the film is set to hit Netflix in 2023. Alongside Cooper is Carey Mulligan who plays the conductor’s wife, stage and TV actor Felicia Montealegre Cohn Bernstein.

Fans of the streaming service have had an exclusive first look at Cooper and Mulligan in their biopic roles with images released on Netflix’s social media pages yesterday afternoon.

Here are the first stills of Cooper and Mulligan from the upcoming Netflix production portraying the ‘American classical music wonder boy’ and his star actress wife....

Carey Mulligan as Felicia Cohn Montealegre and Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

Born on 28 August 1918, Leonard Bernstein married Chilean-American TV and stage actor, Felicia Cohn Montealegre, in 1951.

Though a somewhat unsettled marriage due to Bernstein’s well-documented homosexuality, there was a strong love between the two artists, making their connection much more than a relationship of convenience, despite their individual sexual preferences.

The couple had three children together; Jamie, Alexander and Nina.

Carey Mulligan as Felicia Cohn Montealegre and Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

In an interview with Classic FM, Jamie Bernstein was quick to correct the description of the new netflix film saying, “It’s not a biopic, strictly speaking, it doesn’t tell the story of Leonard Bernstein from birth to death – it’s not that kind of a film at all.

“In fact, it’s a portrait of our parents’ marriage. It’s about something very specific and very personal for [my siblings and I].

“We’re really struck by the fact that this was the aspect of the story that Bradley decided to focus in on and we’re very excited about Carey Mulligan as our mother Felicia; I promise you she is going to send it to the moon in a rocket.”

Carey Mulligan as Felicia Cohn Montealegre and Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

Montealegre was aware of Bernstein’s sexuality, and in a letter shortly after their marriage in 1951 she wrote, “If I seemed sad as you drove away today it was not because I felt in any way deserted but because I was left alone to face myself and this whole bloody mess which is our ‘connubial’ life.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking and have decided that it’s not such a mess after all. First: we are not committed to a life sentence – nothing is really irrevocable, not even marriage (though I used to think so). Second: you are a homosexual and may never change – you don’t admit to the possibility of a double life, but if your peace of mind, your health, your whole nervous system depends on a certain sexual pattern what can you do? Third: I am willing to accept you as you are, without being a martyr or sacrificing myself on the L.B. altar. (I happen to love you very much—this may be a disease and if it is what better cure?) Let’s try and see what happens if you are free to do as you like, but without guilt and confession, please!

“The feelings you have for me will be clearer and easier to express—our marriage is not based on passion but on tenderness and mutual respect.”

Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

The film follows Bernstein across multiple decades, and fans are already excited to see Cooper’s visual similarity in the photographs of the actor’s portrayal of the conductor at an older age.

“If this is Bradley Cooper, the makeup artist should get an Oscar,” one Facebook commenter noted.

Another said, “It’s more than the makeup, it’s the posture, the gesture, the way he holds his cigarette.”

Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein. Picture: Netflix

We’re just as excited as the Facebook comments section to see what Cooper will bring to this role of the beloved American artist.

With a due date yet to be announced, but the film expected next year, we’re sure that something’s coming... something good.

5-year-old Italian piano prodigy plays astonishing Mozart for competition audience

Alberto Cartuccia Cingolani, aged 5, is an Italian piano prodigy. Picture: Simone Cartuccia

By Sophia Alexandra Hall

@sophiassocials

 

Alberto Cartuccia Cingolani, a five-year-old Italian pianist, has gone viral for his prodigious performance of Mozart at a music competition in Italy, earlier this month.

Having only started learning the instrument in 2020, the five-year-old is already a multi-award winning musician. Cingolani has taken part in seven competitions so far in his early, but unquestionably promising, career, and placed first in each of them.

Two weeks ago, Cingolani entered his eighth competition; the 10th International Musical Competition in the Italian town of Penne.

The young star opened the competition with a captivating performance of the first movement of Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 16 in C major impressing the in-person audience, and online viewers alike. Watch his mesmerising musical delivery below.

Like Mozart, Cingolani is from a musical family; both of his parents are music conservatoire graduates, but his mother has been quick to clear up any rumours about pushing their son into classical music.

Alessia Cingolani told the regional Italian newspaper, Corriere Adriatico, that, “He started playing during the months of the first lockdown. I was always at home, so we started playing with a small keyboard, in order to do something stimulating. From there I realised that Alberto was well suited. [Doing this, my] husband and I noticed that he had perfect pitch.

“For a year and a half now, [Alberto] has been doing remarkable things, both for his age and for the time it took him to learn.

“Even though he still doesn't know how to read [music] notes well, indeed almost not at all, he takes his position on the keyboard and repeats the pieces. He is very instinctive.” [translated from Italian]

The video of Cingolani’s competition performance has been viewed by millions of people across Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.

But the five-year-old isn’t a stranger to being on the end of a phone camera. His father, Simone Cartuccia, often records pieces played by his son, and uploads them to his YouTube channel.

As the young musician performs, it’s clear he is engrossed in the music, and with this along with his technical pianistic skills, we’re sure he’s bound to go far in his musical journey.

Love Stories of Classical Composers (II - Joaquín Rodrigo)

 Joaquín Rodrigo and Victoria Kamhi Arditti

“The Light of my Eyes”

by Georg Predota , Interlude

Joaquín Rodrigo and Victoria Kamhi Arditti

On 14 March 1928 a concert honoring Manuel de Falla’s admittance to the French Légion d’Honneur took place in Paris. Falla insisted that music by some of his young Spanish colleagues should be heard as well, and Joaquin Rodrigo stole the show. A reviewer reports, “At that concert we admired both the spectacular piano performance of Joaquín Rodrigo (who lost his sight due to a grave childhood disease) and the dazzling way in which he composes for the piano.” Rodrigo’s compositions quickly attracted the attention of a number of eminent Spanish pianists, among them José Iturbi, Joaquín Nín and Ricardo Viñes. As it happened, Viñes was teaching Spanish piano repertoire to an exceptionally talented pianist from Istanbul. Victoria Kamhi Arditti was the daughter of Sephardic Jewish parents belonging to the cultural and economic elite of the Turkish high bourgeoisie, and she had started her piano studies at the age of four. Since her mother was Viennese, Victoria first furthered her studies in Vienna before moving on to Paris. She personally met Joaquín Rodrigo in 1929, and fell in love with his music. “First with his music and later with him.”

Joaquin Rodrigo: Cantico de la esposa (Song of the Bride)

Love is one thing, but the economic realities of a young composer with a severe disability struggling to make his way in the world seemed insurmountable. The relationship faced stern objections from parents, friends, and colleagues, and was characterized by periods of deep personal reflection. But in the end, love managed to clear all obstacles. Victoria writes, “on a gray November day I had taken the train to the Spanish border. In Barcelona Joaquín and his older brother, Paco, were waiting to welcome me to Spain. As we followed the highway to Valencia, I was lost in admiration of the picturesque little villages we passed through, and the exuberant vegetation. Everything seemed strange to me, the people, the customs, and the activities. I was surprised to see so much luxury, such abundance, in the house of my future parents-in-law.” They started to prepare for the wedding in the “strictest intimacy,” and the happy event took place on 19 January 1933. But the financial struggle continued. Initially they settled in Valencia, but when Rodrigo composed “Song of the Bride” in 1934, which he considered his best vocal work, it was “a very difficult time of our life when, after just one year of marriage, we had to be separated for economic reasons.” 

Eventually Rodrigo was awarded the “Conde de Cartagena Scholarhip” allowing him to join his wife in Paris. Victoria gave up her career as a pianist to devote all her efforts to the works of her husband, collaborating with him in musical and literary matters. When the scholarship was initially renewed, the couple decided to spend some time in Germany. However, with the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, the scholarship fund was no longer available and they had to find refuge at the Institute for the Blind in Freiburg. Three years of extended hardship finally came to an end in 1939, and Rodrigo completed his most famous composition, the Conceirto de Aranjuez. Victoria writes that shorty after the premiere of the concerto on 9 November 1940, their daughter Cecilia was born. “And what about her eyes?” Victoria asked weakly. “They’re magnificent, blue.”

Victoria Kamhi Arditti and Cecilia

Victoria Kamhi de Rodrigo played a crucial role in her husband’s later success as a composer. She wrote the scripts for his ballets “Pavana Real” and “Juana y los Caldereros,” and adapted the texts from the Dead Sea Scrolls. Kamhi was fluent in five languages, and she authored German and French versions of her husband’s vocal music.
She also penned her memoirs in 1986 published under the title “Hand in Hand with Joaquin Rodrigo. My life at the Maestro’s side.” Kamhi helped Rodrigo to develop an individual and distinct musical style, and she was his constant companion and inspiration. She took over a wide range of musical responsibilities, including managing his career. Rodrigo tenderly wrote, “My wife Victoria, my faithful companion and collaborator, has been my inspiration and my drive, she has given me confidence in myself and unending love, and she has dedicated her life to me and has been the light of my eyes.” Kamhi died in 1997, two years before her husband; they are both buried in Aranjuez.

Love Stories of Classical Composers (I - Jacques Offenbach)

 “The only love affair I have ever had was with music.”

Maurice Ravel

The history of classical music, however, is full of fabulously gifted individuals with slightly more earthy ambitions. Love stories of classical composers are frequently retold within a romanticized narrative of sugarcoated fairy tales. To be sure, happily-ever-after stories do on rare occasions take place, but it is much more likely that classical romances lead to some rather unhappy endings. Johannes Brahms had an overriding fear of commitment, Claude Debussy drove his wife into an attempt at suicide, Francis Poulenc severely struggled with his sexual identity, and Percy Grainger was heavily into whips and bondage. And that’s only the beginning! The love life of classical composers will sometimes make you weep, or alternately shout out with joy or anguish. You might even cringe with embarrassment as we try to go beyond the usual headlines and niceties to discover the psychological makeup and the societal and cultural pressures driving these relationships. Classical composer’s love stories are not for the faint hearted; they are heightened reflections of humanity at its best and worst. Accompanying these stories of love and lust with the compositions they inspired, we are able to see composers and their relationships in a completely new light.

Let's start with Jacques Offenbach.

“Hérminie was right again”
Jacques Offenbach and Hérminie d’Alcain

by Georg Predota, Interlude

Offenbach’s family

  

After Jacques Offenbach abruptly discontinued his studies at the Paris Conservatoire he gradually built a reputation composing for and performing in the fashionable salons of Paris. And at one of these cultured gatherings, his eyes fell upon a young Spanish woman by the name of Marie Manuela Hérminie d’Alcain. She was the daughter of the Carlist General José Maria Xavier d’Alcain Garro, who had been forced into French exile. The General died in 1828, and his wife Jeanne-Marie Céleste d’Alcain remarried Michael George Mitchell in 1835. Hérminie was barely 15 years of age but Jacques was determined to marry her. He dedicated a waltz to her in 1841, and a Romanze in 1843 as well. However, her family was not convinced that the young cellist was in any financial position to proposed marriage. As such, Michael George Mitchell arranged for a tour to England.

Offenbach’s leading ladies – Marie Garnier, Zulma Bouffar, Lea Silly, Rose Deschamps

Offenbach later reports to his librettist Emile Chevalet, “As you can imagine, music was played after dinner. I played my Musette, and the audience hammered on the table for at least five minutes and screamed “da capo,” so I was forced to repeat the piece.” A critic wrote, “Offenbach’s execution and taste excited both wonder and pleasure, the genius he exhibited amounting to absolute inspiration.” The highlight of the England tour was undoubtedly an invitation from Queen Victoria to perform at Windsor on 6 June 1844. The Illustrated London News reported, “Herr Jacques Offenbach, the astonishing violoncellist, performed on Thursday evening at Windsor before the Emperor of Russia, the King of Saxony, Queen Victoria, and Prince Albert with great success.” Offenbach’s tour of England was a rousing professional and financial success. He returned to Paris full of confidence and in anticipation of his marriage to Hérminie, but there was a further obstacle. Her family demanded that Jacques convert to Roman Catholicism.

Offenbach and his son Auguste

And so it came to pass that Jacques Offenbach was baptized on 8 August 1844 in the church of Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Nouvelle. Comtesse Madeleine-Sophie Bertin de Vaux and Edme Ernest Foucher acted as sponsors, and only a couple of days later the couple wed at Saint-Roch on 14 August 1844. The blushing bride was 17 years old, and the bridegroom was 25. The newlywed couple quickly establish themselves in the social and artistic scene, and Hérminie becomes the catalyst for Jacques’ success. A friend reports, “Jacques was highly confident in musical matters, but he always listened to his wife’s advice. Not a single page of music was delivered which he had not played to her first. And although he defended himself in the rare cases that she declared something unworthy of him, the next day a new version was composed and presented to Madame Offenbach for inspection.”

Hortense Schneider

The union produced four daughters and a son Charles Ignace Auguste, who followed in his father’s compositional footsteps. Sadly, Auguste died of tuberculosis at the age of 21. The Offenbach household quickly becomes an important musical and intellectual center in Paris, and their “Friday Evenings” attract the composers Georges Bizet and Léo Delibes, the painters Edouard Detaille and Gustave Doré, the librettists Hector Crémieux and Ludovic Halévy and the journalist Hippolyte de Villemessant. During summer holiday, the Offenbach salon annually moves to the “Villa Orphée” on the Normandy Coast. Throughout his life, Jacques continued his busy professional traveling schedule, and his favorite female interpreters often accompany him. It is claimed that he never had an affair with his favorite singer Hortense Schneider, but we do know that he had a dalliance with the 20-year old Zulma Bouffar, a relationship that produced 2 children. Nevertheless, his 36-year marriage to Hérminie was essentially happy, and after his death a friend reported that Hérminie “gave him courage, shared his ordeals and comforted him always with tenderness and devotion.”

Frederick Delius - Song of Summer

Frederick Delius, in full Frederick Theodore Albert Delius, (born January 29, 1862, Bradford, Yorkshire, England—died June 10, 1934, Grez-sur-Loing, France), composer, one of the most distinctive figures in the revival of English music at the end of the 19th century.

The son of a German manufacturer who had become a naturalized British subject in 1860, Delius was educated at Bradford Grammar School and the International College, Isleworth, London. After working as a traveler for his father’s firm, he went in 1884 to Florida, U.S., as an orange planter and devoted his spare time to musical study. In 1886 he left Florida for Leipzig and there underwent a more or less regular musical training and became a friend of the Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg. Two years later he went to live in Paris, and from 1897 he made his home at Grez-sur-Loing (Seine-et-Marne), near Paris, with the painter Jelka Rosen, whom he married in 1903. Some songs, an orchestral suite (Florida), and an opera (Irmelin) were all written before he had a work published, that being Legend for violin and orchestra (1893). These were followed by more ambitious works that aroused considerable interest, especially in Germany, during the first decade of the 20th century. Three of his six operas (Koanga, 1895–97; A Village Romeo and Juliet, 1900–01; and Fennimore and Gerda, 1908–10) and several of his larger choral and orchestral works (Appalachia, 1902; Sea Drift, 1903; Paris: the Song of a Great City, 1899) were first heard in Germany. Later his reputation spread to England, mainly through the persuasive advocacy of Sir Thomas Beecham, who was his finest interpreter.

Night and Day and Delius

by Maureen Buja , Interlude

Frederick Delius: Summer Night on the River and A Song Before Sunrise

Frederick Delius (1907)

Two works written in close proximity give us two different times of day. Frederick Delius (1862-1934) was a quiet master of the tone poem. Summer Night on the River (1912) is part 2 of his Two Pieces for Small Orchestra (part 1 is On Hearing the First Cuckoo in Spring) and conveys us to a quiet night scene. The river flows by, with occasional leaves or flowers, on the sound of woodwinds. In its quietness and need for dynamic shading, it’s regarded as one of the most difficult of Delius’ scores to perform.

His tone painting is done at a whisper, with small colours appearing in the shadows to the side and just catching your ear as they disappear. It takes all the colours of the day and begins to dilute them.

The matching piece, A Song Before Sunrise, was written in 1918. From the beginning, with his marking of “Freshly” instead of a more traditional tempo marking, Delius has given us the clue to the potential of the day. The rhythm carries us forward and releases us into our new dawn.

Delius was master of the miniature tone poem. These two works, just 7 and 5 minutes long, capture in their sound times of the day that are so elusive. A summer night can be one of a perfect temperature, and when sitting by the river and watching the light so gradually fail, it can be a magical time, as captured by Delius. Before sunrise, on the other hand, is all about potential and what the day can become.

Dream a bit with Delius – his aesthetics are of the most delicate colours and feelings.

From Children’s Tales to Scenes from Childhood

by Maureen Buja  , Interlude

Robert Schumann, lithograph by Josef Kriehuber, 1839

Written about children, but not written for children, the collection of short piano pieces entitled Kinderszenen (Scenes from Childhood) by Robert Schumann was a gift to Clara Wieck in 1838, two years before they were finally married. The final 13 pieces were chosen from a set of 30 pieces, the remaining 18 published later in Op. 99 and Op. 124.

Originally, Kinderszenen, Op. 15 was to be published together with the 8 Noveletten, Op. 21, as a work called Kindergeschichten (Children’s Tales) but Schmann changed his mind and separated them. In a 1838 letter to Clara when he sent her the pieces, Robert wrote that they were an answer to her comment ‘that sometimes I seemed to you like a child….’ He told her to laugh at the titles but to take their performance seriously: ‘They will amuse you, but you will have to forget yourself as a virtuoso.’

Clara Wieck at the paino

The titles take us to the land of children:

No. 1. Von fremden Landern und Menschen (Of Foreign Lands and People)
No. 2. Curiose Geschichte (A Strange Story)
No. 3. Hasche-Mann (Catch-as-catch-can)
No. 4. Bittendes Kind (Pleading Child)
No. 5. Glückes genug (Happy Enough)
No. 6. Wichtige Begebenheit (An Important Event)
No. 7. Träumerei (Dreaming)
No. 8. Am Camin (By the Fire-side)
No. 9. Ritter vom Steckenpferd (Knight of the Hobby-horse)
No. 10. Fast zu ernst (Almost Too Serious)
No. 11. Furchtenmachen (Frightening)
No. 12. Kind im Einschlummern (Child Falling Asleep)
No. 13. Der Dichter spricht (The Poet Speaks)

But this is a land as observed by an adult and observed from a distance. The opening piece, Of Foreign Lands and People, serves as the key to the work, with its opening theme appearing in various guises throughout the other pieces.


If we listen to the same piece in other hands, we can hear how much interpretation can change the work.


Brendel’s vision seems much more dutiful than the world of the imagination summoned by Argerich.

The best known of the 13 pieces is the middle one: No. 7, Traumerei (Dreaming). Every child who learns to play it thinks he’s gotten a vision into the world of Schumann, but in the hands of a virtuoso, the role of rubato (a slight speeding up and slowing down of the tempo) gives us a much more dreamlike quality to the work.


Overally, the pieces are not technically demanding, but it is the quality of expression and the sensitivity of the performer to that expression that is key. It is important to remember that the titles are not the story, but only an indication meant to guide the performer. When we look at the final piece, No. 13, The Poet Speaks, we can finally see that these Scenes from Childhood are not scenes as seen by a child, but scenes as remembered by ‘The Poet,’ and therein lies the difference.

Best Songs in D Minor

by Hermione Lai , Interlude

Bach’s Toccata in D minor 18th century copy by Johannes Ringk

Sometimes, I really don’t understand the descriptions assigned to particular keys. When it comes to D minor, we can read that it represents “dejected womanhood which broods on notions and illusions.” I guess it’s a pretty fancy and period description of a scorned woman in love? Others have said that D minor “expresses a subdued feeling of melancholy, grief, anxiety, and solemnity.” Whatever the case may be, some of the most famous and popular classical pieces ever are written in D minor. And here is my list of personal bests.

Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D minor

I can tell you that it was not a very easy choice because of all the gorgeous compositions in D minor that I have to leave out. However, for me it’s all starting with the Toccata and Fugue in D minor by Johann Sebastian Bach. Today that song is used in a variety of popular media, ranging from film, video games and ringtones. But the association today is not melancholy or a scorned woman in love, but sheer terror. This association with horror and Halloween first appeared in a 1962 film adaptation of “The Phantom of the Opera.” It just goes to show that specific associations are easily formed in connection with visual media, but the D minor Toccata and Fugue is still a most powerful composition, and certainly one of the best songs in D minor. 

Mendelssohn: Piano Trio No. 1 in D minor

Portrait of Felix Mendelssohn by Wilhelm Hensel, 1847

Felix Mendelssohn learned a lot from the music of Bach. In fact, he was responsible that the music of Bach found its rightful place on the world’s concert stages. Mendelssohn looked at the styles and compositional techniques of the past and developed a highly personalized music style. Not everybody was enthusiastic for Mendelssohn to go back in time, and Berlioz once said, “Mendelssohn paid too much attention to the music of the dead.” And the always-punchy critic and playwright George Bernard Shaw compared Mendelssohn to a senile academy professor whose exercises in a dead musical language “are as trivial as they are tedious.” Then as now, it’s difficult to please the critics. Mendelssohn complete his piano trio in D minor in 1839, and Robert Schumann wrote in his review that “Mendelssohn is the Mozart of the 19th century, the most illuminating of musicians.” There is a good bit of melancholy yearning in the opening movement, and the slow “Andante” is actually a song without words that turns to passion. The scherzo is light and airy, and it all ends with a passionate rondo. For me personally, this is one of the most powerful and best songs in D minor ever. 

Mozart: Requiem

Mozart’s Requiem

Since the key of D minor is supposed to express grief and solemnity, it’s not surprising to find a good number of Requiems in that category. Composers who have written Requiems include Bruckner, Reger, Fauré, and probably most famously, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The passionate lover of music, Count Franz von Walsegg commissioned the work for his twenty-year old wife Anna, who had sadly passed away.

The Count was a fellow Freemason, but as we all know, Mozart himself died before he could complete the composition. Sorry to disappoint all fans of the movie Amadeus, but Salieri had nothing to do with the Requiem or with Mozart’s death. Mozart’s wife Constanze hired several composers to finish the piece and deliver it to the Count. Constanze did suggest that her husband actually believed that he was writing the requiem for his own funeral. Whatever the case may be, it is one of the most powerful classical compositions I know, and it certainly is one of the best songs in D minor.

Haydn: Symphony No. 80 in D minor

Portrait of Joseph Haydn by Thomas Hardy, 1791

D minor seemed to have been a highly popular key for composing large-scale symphonies. We have symphonies No. 1 by Dohnányi, Ives, Rachmaninoff and Richard Strauss. Prokofiev and Balakirev wrote their 2nd symphonies in D minor, the same key used by Bruckner in his symphonies No. 3 and No. 9. Dvořák composed his symphonies No. 4 and No. 7 in D minor, and there are also symphonies by Schumann, Shostakovich, Sibelius, Vaughan Williams, Glazunov, and of course the monumental symphony No. 9 by Beethoven. Which one is actually my favorite? To tell the truth, I really can’t decide. So I went back to the father of the symphony, Joseph Haydn, and I found a delightful storm and stress symphony in D minor. His 80th symphony probably dates from 1784, and for some reason it does not have a nickname. However, it is a symphonic gem and Haydn showed everybody coming after him what was actually possible in a symphony. And it is for that particular reason that Haydn’s 80th is my representative for symphonies in D minor. 

Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30

Rachmaninoff proofing a manuscript

Some composers are actually rather difficult to read. Sergei Rachmaninoff was clearly one of the last great pianist-composers in a long tradition stretching back to Mozart, Beethoven, Liszt and Brahms. He proudly suggested that “a composer’s music should express the country of his birth, his love affairs, his religion, the books which have influenced him, and the pictures he loves… My music is the product of my temperament…” Rachmaninoff was fiercely egotistic in artistic matters, but also frequently depressed without any specific cause. Very few people ever heard him laugh, and only occasionally did he crack a rare smile. He was often grave in expression and mannerism, and seemed to have been stuck in prolonged periods of philosophical longing and melancholy. Almost sounds like Rachmaninoff could be considered the poster child for D minor. And wouldn’t you know it, he did write a great number of works in that particular key, including the fabulous 3rd piano concerto. It is without doubt one of the all-time best songs in D minor. As you can tell, the key of D minor was really popular with composers, and I have tried to find my favorite songs; what is yours? Next time, I will take a look at the best songs in the cheerful key of B-flat major.