Jacqueline Mary du Pré

 by Desiree Ho  May 25th, 2012

Jacqueline Mary du Pré (1945-1987) is arguably one of the most gifted cellists of our time. She is particularly remembered for her legendary debut performance of Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor (one of the favourite cello concertos of all time), which she performed with the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall in 1962 under Rudolf Schwarz.

Jacqueline du Pré’s performance of Elgar’s Cello Concerto was regarded so highly that she returned three years in succession to perform this favourite work, and further recorded it for EMI in 1965 (album title “Jacqueline Du Pré – Favourite Cello Concertos”). Considered the finest interpreter of Elgar’s Cello Concerto, her work instantly became known as the benchmark reference which made her an international star. On 14 May 1965, she performed at Carnegie Hall for her United States debut.

Sadly, what began as a promising international career was cut short by a nervous system disease called multiple sclerosis, and she died in 1987 at the age of 42.

Du Pré’s Childhood

Du Pré was born in Oxford into a middle-class family. At the young age of four, she heard the sound of the cello on the radio for the first time and asked her mother for “one of those”. Her mother immediately noticed Du Pré’s fascination with the instrument and gave her her first music lessons, and by five she was enrolled into the London Violoncello School.

In 1956, Du Pré became the youngest recipient of the Suggia Gift Award, a scholarship established by the renowned Portuguese cellist Guilhermina Suggia. At just age 11, she continues to hold the title as the youngest recipient till this day. The award enabled her to further her studies at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London. She also began winning many music competitions that further confirmed her talent and ability in the instrument.

As a Suggia awardee, Du Pré was required to practice the cello at least four hours a day, an obligation that cut her off from normal school activities and relationships. However, this allowed her to study under renowned cellist William Pleeth, a child prodigy himself.

Pleeth’s influence in Du Pré’s life was unquestionable. She called him “my Cello Daddy”, while Pleeth explained that teaching her was “like hitting a ball against a wall. The harder you hit it, the harder it would return. I could see the potential quite strongly on the first day. As the next few lessons went on, it just sort of unfolded itself like a flower, so that you knew that everything was possible.“

Studying with Casals and Tortelier

After becoming the youngest performer to ever win the Queen’s prize, Du Pré continued her studies under world-famous cellists Pablo Casals in Switzerland, Paul Tortelier in Paris and Mstislav Rostropovich in Russia. An anonymous benefactor bought her the beautiful 1673 Stradivarius cello in preparation for her professional debut. Rostropovich, who was so impressed with the young cellist, declared her “the only cellist of the younger generation that could equal and overtake his own“.

In 1966, Du Pré was invited to perform the Brahms F major Sonata with Israeli conductor and pianist Daniel Barenboim. The two quickly fell in love and married in May the next year. TIME magazine wrote, “Thus began one of the most remarkable relationships, personal as well as professional, that music has known since the days of Clara and Robert Schumann.” Their marriage thrilled listeners around the world, and marked a triumphant period for both. Together they toured throughout North America and Europe, and recorded what became part of Du Pré’s legacy of recordings.

During the two years after the Elgar performance, she sometimes noticed numbness in her fingers. She could not pinpoint the exact time when it started, but she did take a break from the exhaustion of touring and performing in spring 1971 to move in with her sister Hilary in Ashmansworth, Hampshire.

Jacqueline Du Pré – Favourite Cello Concertos album © Discogs

When she resumed concert appearances in 1972, the numbness in her hands grew steadily worse. Her doctors could not explain the condition, but told her it was caused by stress. At a rehearsal for the Brahms Double Concerto in 1973 she needed help to open her cello case and said that she could not feel the strings with her fingers. She had to rely on her eyes to tell where her fingers were placed on the instrument.

Du Pré told Leonard Bernstein that she was unable to play. “Don’t be such a goose“, he told her. “You’re just nervous.” Although she managed three of the concerts, the third ended up as a disaster. That marked her last appearance as a cellist.

As a result, Bernstein took her to a doctor in New York, but neither could he find anything wrong with her. Du Pré began to wonder if she was going mad. Only after several tests in London two years later was she finally diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. The music world was stunned by the news that she might never play again.

Tributes soon poured in, including an Order of the British Empire (OBE) amongst other honorary degrees. Confined to a wheelchair now, Du Pré continued to contribute to the music world by conducting master classes at the Guildhall School and even conducted several of them on television. However, her health continued to decline. She died in 1987, at the age of forty-two.

In the words of her friend Christopher Nupen, “The loss is still touching the hearts of people all over the world, because this great cellist had ways of reaching the heart that are given to very, very few.“

Multiple Sclerosis

Multiple Sclerosis is a nervous system disease that affects communication between the brain and the spinal cord. The inflammatory disease causes the body’s own defense system to attack the myelin sheath, the material that protects the nerve cells around the axons of the brain and spinal cord.

When myelin is lost, the axons can no longer effectively conduct signals. Consequently, the nerve impulses are distorted and interrupted, causing the patient to suffer almost any neurological symptoms including numbness, muscle weakness, difficulty in moving, coordination problems, amongst others.

Multiple Sclerosis usually occurs in young adults and is more common in women than men. Despite the advances in medical science and our knowledge about the disease process, little is known about the cause of the disease. The disease is usually mild but some people may lose the ability to write, speak or walk.

Despite her early departure, Du Pré left us a wonderful legacy of recordings, though her admirers may complain they were not enough. Nevertheless, Du Pré will be remembered for the elegance and ferocity that transcends in her music.

“There is plenty of strength to her playing, and a good measure of romanticism without the romantic string mannerisms of portamento (sliding from note to note) and a fast wide vibrato. She can produce a mellow sound of unusual size and clearly was born to play the cello,” wrote Harold C. Schonberg in The New York Times after her 1967 concert.  

Elgar – his music Cello Concerto. (n.d.). Retrieved August 22, 2011, from Jacqueline du Pré — The concerto’s consummate interpreter?: http://www.elgar.org/3cello-b.htm

Muelle, M. (n.d.). Jacqueline Du Pré. Retrieved August 22, 2011, from Jacqueline Du Pré: http://www.jacquelinedupre.net/jdupre/whoisjdp.htm

New York Times. (1987, October 20). Jacqueline du Pre, Noted Cellist, Is Dead at 42. Retrieved August 22, 2011, from New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/1987/10/20/obituaries/jacqueline-du-pre-noted-cellist-is-dead-at-42.html

Zukerman, E. (1999, April 25). Heartstrings. Retrieved August 23, 2011, from Multi-sclerosis: http://www.mult-sclerosis.org/news/May1999/BookReviewsduPre.html

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Johann Strauss II

 by Georg Predota  October 11th, 2025

Bicentennial Celebration: Waltzing Through Time

On 25 October 1825, in the bustling heart of Vienna, a child was born who would etch his name into the annals of musical history as the undisputed “Waltz King.” Johann Strauss II, son of the original Strauss patriarch, Johann Strauss I, emerged not just as a composer but as a cultural phenomenon, transforming the Viennese waltz from a simple ballroom diversion into a global symbol of elegance, romance, and unbridled joy.

Johann Strauss II

Johann Strauss II: “Viennese Blood”  

Strauss Junior captured the spirit of 19th-century Europe, his music a whirlwind of imperial grandeur, social upheaval, and hedonistic escape. As we celebrate the 200th anniversary of his birth, the city of Vienna has declared a bicentennial extravaganza that reaffirms his legacy as a bridge between classical sophistication and populist delight.

The Johann Strauss 2025 Viennese celebrations run under the motto “King of Waltz, Queen of Music,” and encompass over 65 performances, three major exhibitions, and events spanning 71 locations across all 23 districts of the city. As musicologist Michele Calella of the University of Vienna notes, Strauss’ work remains “quintessentially Viennese, shaping the city’s identity as a cultural beacon even today.”   

Against the Grain

The young Johann Strauss II

Johann Strauss Junior’s story begins in defiance. Born into a musical dynasty dominated by his father, young Johann was forbidden from pursuing composition. The elder Strauss envisioned a bourgeois future for his son: first law school, then a banking career, stability, anything but the itinerant life of a bandleader.

Defying paternal expectations, Strauss Junior secretly studied violin and compositions, debuting at age 19 at Dommayer’s Casino in Vienna. The selection of music he presented included works by Meyerbeer, Auber, Suppé and also by his father.

He also gave the premières of four of his own compositions, and the press was unanimous in its praise for the young Strauss and his music. This act of rebellion ignited a lifelong rivalry with his father, yet his early waltzes, like “Sinngedichte” and “Gunstwerber” captivated audiences with their lyrical charm.

The Sound of a New Era

Waltzing in the 19th century

Strauss’ early career was a whirlwind of polkas, marches, and waltzes that mirrored the era’s ferment. The 1848 revolutions rocked Vienna, yet Strauss, ever the entertainer, composed pieces like the “Revolutions-Walzer,” blending revolutionary fervour with danceable levity.

He quickly eclipsed his father’s fame, and upon Johann I’s death in 1849, Strauss Junior merged the ensembles to form a “super-virtuoso outfit” that toured Europe with unprecedented success.

The orchestra, under his baton, was renowned for its precision and ability to convey the lilting, almost dance-like quality of his music. The orchestra became Vienna’s musical heartbeat, delivering performances that balanced technical finesse with a sense of spontaneity. Strauss’ genius lay in elevating dance music to an art form, infusing it with sophistication while keeping it accessible and joyous.  

The Mozart of the Waltz

Strauss was also a master of orchestration, using the ensemble’s strings, woodwinds, and brass to create a lush, sparkling sound that felt both grand and intimate. His ability to tailor music for specific occasions, whether imperial balls or public concerts, meant the orchestra could shift seamlessly between grandeur and playfulness.

Let’s not forget, however, that Strauss Junior staunchly championed the music of Liszt and Wagner. Johann and Josef Strauss were the first musicians in Vienna to feature extracts from Wagner’s operas in concert. Similarly, arrangements of Verdi’s music frequently figured in the programmes of the Strauss Orchestra.

This unprecedented versatility made the Strauss Orchestra a cultural institution, exporting Viennese charm across Europe and beyond. Strauss embarked on tours to Russia, England, and America, where in 1872 he conducted 23 concerts in Boston, earning the moniker “the Mozart of the waltz.”   

The First Pop Star

Johann Strauss II in concert

Music historian H. E. Piggott describes Johann II as “the first pop star,” a composer whose “sheer consistency of invention” outshone all contemporaries. Strauss’ innate skill at instrumentation as well as his lifelong genius for melodic invention drew the praise of a number of composers.

Verdi said, “I honour him as one of my most gifted colleagues,: and even the usually grumpy Johannes Brahms once quipped, “sadly, the Blue Danube is not by me.” Brahms’ envy highlights Strauss’s effortless genius, as Strauss himself reflected. “Music is the most beautiful of all arts, for it is no more than feeling itself,” a sentiment that captures his intuitive blend of technical prowess and emotional immediacy.

Strauss’ operettas further cemented his fame, as he ventured into the theatrical realm with Die Fledermaus (1874) and Der Zigeunerbaron (1885). These sparkling confections, which premiered at the Theatre an der Wien, fused waltz rhythms with satirical plots, poking fun at Viennese high society while offering escapist fantasies.   

A Life of Contrasts

Yet, Strauss’ personal life was far less buoyant. Three marriages marked by scandal, including his 1886 citizenship change to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha for his third wife, left him isolated, dying childless in 1899 from pneumonia. “Happy is he who can forget what cannot be changed anymore,” he once wrote and set to music.

Through it all, the music of Strauss II embodied resilience. The theatre scholar Anke Charton argued in the University of Vienna lecture series “Strauss Topographies” that his oeuvre reflects Vienna’s socio-cultural pulse, “ranging from Biedermeier domesticity to fin-de-siècle decadence.”

Even Ralph Vaughan Williams, no fan of “salonesque miniatures,” conceded that “a waltz of Johann Strauss is good music in its proper place.” And that proper place was the ballroom, the concert hall, and the silver screen, all ensuring Strauss’ immortality.   

A Golden Milestone

Johann Strauss II

In 1894, Johann Strauss celebrated his golden jubilee year as a composer and conductor, and responding to an official toast, said, “The distinctions which you bestow upon me today I owe to my predecessors, my father and Joseph Lanner. They indicated to me the means by which progress is possible, through the broadening of the forms, and that is my single small contribution.”

The composer openly acknowledged that the fundamental structure of the Viennese waltz had been developed, expanded, and formalised by the elder Strauss and Lanner. Strauss II did, however, extend the form and provided greater coherence to each composition.

As scholars write, Strauss II developed the introduction to provide almost symphonic music, and “the waltz themes themselves were expanded melodically and harmonically to produce a seemingly homogenous entity.” In addition, the coda was lengthened to give balance to the whole. His masterly orchestration prompted Brahms to remark that “there is now no one who is as sure as he is in such matters.” 

Vienna’s Heartbeat

Johann Strauss Junior’s legacy is woven into the cultural fabric of Vienna and the world, his music embodying the spirit of an era while transcending time. Elevating the waltz from a simple dance to a symphonic art form, his compositions are not mere tunes but sonic portraits of 19th-century Vienna.

Strauss’ genius lay in his ability to distil complex emotions into accessible, unforgettable melodies, performed with his orchestra’s signature blend of precision and spirited warmth. His music became the heartbeat of Viennese society, played in glittering ballrooms and public gardens, uniting aristocrats and commoners in shared delight.

Strauss’ legacy also endures in the institutions and traditions he inspired, which continue to thrive in 2025. The Vienna Philharmonic, closely tied to the Strauss family, remains a custodian of his music, with its New Year’s Concert a global phenomenon. 

Music Uniting Generations

Monument of Johann Strauss II

Museums like the House of Strauss at Casino Zögernitz and the Johann Strauss Museum in Vienna preserve his manuscripts, instruments, and personal artefacts, offering glimpses into his creative process and the vibrant world he inhabited.

These spaces, alongside initiatives like the Vienna Institute for Strauss Research, underscore his role as a cultural titan whose music reflected and shaped Vienna’s identity as a musical capital. To be sure, his compositions have permeated popular culture, spawning modern reinterpretations in concerts and digital media.

Strauss’s ability to evoke joy and nostalgia ensures his music remains a living legacy. His bicentennial transcends nostalgia, as it interrogates his relevance. In a fragmented world, his waltzes foster communal joy, much as they did amid 19th-century upheavals.

Eight of the Saddest Piano Concerto Slow Movements

by Emily E. Hogstad 

If you’re a classical music fan drawn to sad, slow movements in piano concertos, this is the list you’ve been looking for.

Whether it’s Chopin’s gentle melancholy, Ravel’s elegant wistfulness, or Rachmaninoff’s romantic despair, each of these slow movements paints a picture of a particular kind of sadness.

© chopinacademy.com

Although every ranking having to do with classical music is subjective, we numbered our picks anyway, from least sad to saddest. Find out which concerto we’ve dubbed the saddest at the end.

8. Chopin: Piano Concerto No. 1, Mov. 2  

Chopin wrote this concerto in 1830 when he was just twenty years old.

The inspiration behind this piece is unclear…but we know there was one.

Frédéric Chopin in 1849

In a letter, Chopin wrote a cryptic observation to his best friend (and potential crush or even lover) Tytus Woyciechowski:

“Here you doubtless observe my tendency to do wrong against my will. As something has involuntarily crept into my head through my eyes, I love to indulge it, even though it may be all wrong.”

It’s a mysterious confession. Some believe he’s referring to his other crush, singer Konstancja Gładkowska. Others wonder if he’s referring to Woyciechowski, with whom he exchanged a number of romantic letters as a young man.

Chopin wrote to Woyciechowski about the slow movement in particular:

“It is not meant to create a powerful effect; it is rather a Romance, calm and melancholy, giving the impression of someone looking gently towards a spot that calls to mind a thousand happy memories. It is a kind of reverie in the moonlight on a beautiful spring evening.”

The specific sadness of this music is a gentle, possibly flirtatious melancholy.

7. Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2, Mov. 3   

Brahms’s second piano concerto covers similar emotional territory to the Chopin Romance. Save for a brief stormy interlude in the centre of the movement, this is not overtly tragic music: it’s more brooding, repressed melancholy.

Johannes Brahms, ca 1875

The movement begins with a soulful cello solo (an idea that Brahms may have lifted from his dear friend Clara Wieck Schumann, who had included similar instrumentation in the piano concerto she’d written as a teenager decades earlier).

The final portion of the movement, where the cello returns again and moves with the piano through a number of keys together, is the absolute epitome of bittersweet regret.

6. Bartók: Piano Concerto No. 3, Mov. 2   

Béla Bartók composed his third piano concerto in 1945 when he was 64 years old. He was terminally ill with leukaemia at the time.

That October, his wife, pianist Ditta Pásztory-Bartók, was set to celebrate her 42nd birthday. He began working on a third piano concerto for her as a birthday present. He was hopeful that after his death, whenever it occurred, she could tour with it and make money.

Béla Bartók in the 1920s

Tragically, he died in late September, a month before her birthday. Fortunately, the piano concerto, save for the final seventeen measures, was completed.

The slow movement of this concerto feels like a hushed, tender, intimate goodbye. Regret and wistfulness are mixed in with profound gratitude.

5. Ravel: Piano Concerto, Mov. 2   

Ravel wrote of his piano concerto:

“My only wish…was to write a genuine concerto, that is, a brilliant work, clearly highlighting the soloist’s virtuosity, without seeking to show profundity. As a model, I took two musicians who, in my opinion, best illustrated this type of composition: Mozart and Saint-Saëns…”

Maurice Ravel

In particular, he looked to Mozart’s clarinet quintet for inspiration. That melody is an unusual twenty measures long. In his concerto, Ravel’s melody is an astonishing thirty-four.

“That flowing phrase!” he wrote later. “How I worked over it bar by bar! It nearly killed me!”

This long melody calls to mind a long, wistful train of thought from the middle of the night, when nothing in the darkness interrupts the thought.

This music is sad in a restrained way. A listener can feel a great depth of sorrow hiding just beneath the surface.

4. Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2, Mov. 2   

Shostakovich wrote his second piano concerto for his pianist son Maxim’s nineteenth birthday in 1957. Maxim premiered it at his graduation concert at the Moscow Conservatory that May.

Over the past few years, father and son had suffered a great deal together. In 1954, Maxim’s physicist mother, Nina, had died suddenly. Maxim was just sixteen. Shostakovich was forced to become a single father overnight: a role he was completely unprepared to play.

Dmitri Shostakovich

The slow movement of this concerto evokes emotions that a father and son might feel upon seeing a son graduate after the death of a beloved wife and mother: pride, yearning, and a sadness that is simultaneously quiet and deeply intimate.

3. Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 23, Mov. 2   

Mozart wrote his 23rd piano concerto in early 1786, two months before the premiere of one of his best-loved operas, The Marriage of Figaro.

A listener can immediately hear the influence of opera here. It’s especially dramatic because the piano is alone when it enters with its atmospheric, aria-like, minor-key melody.

Croce: Mozart Family Portait (detail), 1781

Starting the movement with a solo part creates a kind of sudden, intense intimacy between the soloist, composer, and audience.

2. Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 4, Mov. 2   

The orchestral introduction to this slow movement is loud and brutally unforgiving. The piano answers with a sense of quiet despair.

That conflict and dialogue create the narrative that drives the entire movement.

Beethoven in 1803

Three movements into their unnerving conversation, the piano takes over for a solo turn. We discover that the piano still has fight in it, with a series of loud ringing trills, before sinking back down into a whisper again.

When the orchestra returns, it is also quiet, witnessing the piano’s unraveling.

1. Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2, Mov. 2   

Here it is: the saddest slow movement of a piano concerto: the Adagio sostenuto from Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto.

This movement begins with slow, hushed chords in the strings, followed by a mournful chain of arpeggios in the piano.

The winds contribute hushed fragments of a heartbreaking theme to the steady accompaniment of the piano.

When the soloist and the orchestra players begin interacting with one another, it feels like a confessional conversation. The music conveys all kinds of sadness: grief, regret, yearning, and more, appearing in all different types of musical colours and textures.

Kubey-Rembrandt Studios: Sergei Rachmaninoff, 1921

Rachmaninoff wrote his second piano concerto while coming out of a severe period of depression. For a while, he was seeing a therapist daily. It seems that writing this concerto helped him to process what he needed to.

His composing career continued for decades afterwards, and this work became one of the most beloved piano concertos ever written. It’s sad music…but it had a happy ending.

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Jean-Yves Thibaudet - Ravel - Piano Concerto in G major

Maurice Ravel Piano Concerto in G major 1 Allegramente 2 Adagio assai 3 Presto Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester Philippe Jordan. conductor Live recording. London, Proms 2013

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David Gilmour / Roger Waters / Nick Mason / Richard Wright On 2 July 2005 Pink Floyd performed at the London Live 8 concert with Roger Waters rejoining David Gilmour, Nick Mason and Richard Wright. It was the quartet's first performance together in over 24 years — the band's last show with Waters was at Earls Court in London on 17 June 1981. R.I.P. Richard and Syd "Speak to Me/Breathe/Breathe (Reprise) ", "Money", "Wish You Were Here", "Comfortably Numb"

Smetana: Vltava (The Moldau) - Stunning Performance

Gimnazija Kranj Great Christmas Concert 2015 - Slavic Night. Gimnazija Kranj Symphony Orchestra performed Bedřich Smetana symphonic poem: Moldau from a symphonyic poem set: Má vlast (My homeland). Concert was sold out in record time of two days (1500 seats, Gallus Hall, Cankarjev dom, Slovenia). Our kids played stunningly and set a new standard of playing and performing. This is first real film based best Moldau performance on youtube.  Conductor: maestro Nejc Bečan; concert master: Nejc Avbelj; flutes: Aleksandra Pleterski and Anja Kišek;  sound design: Mitja Krže; head of production: Grega Jeraša; sound mastering: Iztok Zupan (Klopotec production); concert and film director: Primož Zevnik

The Morbid Compulsion of Anton Bruckner

 by Georg Predota 

Having been born, raised and educated in rural Austria ill prepared Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) for the acidic and highly competitive musical environment of imperial Vienna. Retaining his shy and unassuming demeanor throughout his life, Bruckner presented a wide target for music critics, journalists and composers alike, with most famously perhaps, Johannes Brahms referring to him as a “country pumpkin.” Much of this deep-seated resentment focused on Bruckner’s total admiration for Richard Wagner and a highly idiosyncratic and expansive musical style. The reaction to his Symphony No. 6, partially completed in 1881, was predictably swift and severe. The music critic Eduard Hanslick—a close personal friend of Johannes Brahms—perceived “a clever and original work in which inspired moments alternate frequently without recognizable connections; full of barely understandable platitudes, and empty and dull patches that stretch to unsparing lengths.” It’s not surprising that Bruckner was prone to suffer from debilitating insecurities that made him revise his works multiple times.

But Bruckner had other problems as well! For one, he had a compulsion to count things continually. In medical terms, this is called “numeromania” and professionally classified under compulsive disorders. He obsessively counted windows of building, cobblestones on the road, and number of bricks in a wall. Even worse, he continually counted the number of bars in his enormous orchestral scores to make sure their proportions were statistically correct. He once even tipped a conductor with cash for getting through a rehearsal of one of his symphonies. In his diaries, he kept long lists of teenage girls he fancied, and to their surprise, frequently propositioned them. All his life, Bruckner was fascinated with death. For one, when his mother died, Bruckner commissioned a photograph of her corpse, and kept it in his teaching room. He did not have a single image of his mother when she was alive, just the eyes of the dead woman staring at him and his students.

Bruckner eventually developed an obsession with viewing dead bodies. He became a frequent visitor at funeral parlors and in cemeteries, viewing the bodily remains of total strangers. He sought permission to exhume and see the body of his dead cousin, a request that was refused by local authorities. Bruckner even applied to see the corpse of Emperor Maximilian, whose body had been returned to Vienna after his execution in Mexico in 1867. When the remains of Beethoven and Schubert were moved to Vienna’s Central Cemetery in 1888, Bruckner just had to be there. Eyewitness accounts recall that Bruckner “fingered and kissed the skulls of both composers.” Given Bruckner’s obsession with death, it is hardly surprising that he gave very specific instructions on how to deal with his own dead body.

On 11 October 1896, Anton Bruckner died at age 72 in Vienna. His body was initially released for viewing at the St. Charles Church in Vienna, and five days later arrived at the St. Florian Monastery in his hometown of Linz. Between the viewing in Vienna and the burial in Linz, a certain Professor Paltauf mummified Bruckner’s body, just as the composer had specified in his will! In 1996, in preparations for the Bruckner centenary celebrations, it was discovered that the Mummy had begun to decay. As such, the Monastery arranged for the Mummy to take a secret restoration trip to Switzerland. Restored in body and clothing, Bruckner returned to Linz and officials pronounced the result “like he died yesterday.” Bruckner’s obsessions and compulsions left traces in his compositions. You just have to listen to the chilling and dehumanized orchestral landscape in the final movement of his 4th symphony, or the emotional desolation of the slow movement of his 7th. And don’t forget the aggressive, apocalyptic and despairing visions of cosmic pain in the third movement of his unfinished 9th symphony!

The Piano Legacy of Dmitri Shostakovich

by Hermione Lai

I’ve been diving into the piano music of Dmitri Shostakovich lately, and it’s like stumbling into a secret room full of contradictions. The music seems gritty, tender, sarcastic, and soulful all at once.

Dmitri Shostakovich

Everything seems full of restless energy with angular melodies interrupted by moments of aching lyricism. Much of it is not just music, but a story that doesn’t quite resolve, and I’m certainly hooked on figuring out what he’s trying to say.    

Irony and Hidden Truths

Much of his music strikes a balance between a wiry and percussive drive and ghostly, introspective passages. It’s like he’s painting a picture of an uncertain world, but at the same time clinging to slivers of hope.

I am no virtuoso, but there’s something about his music that makes me want to lean in closer, to uncover the layers of irony and heart he’s tucked away. It’s not always easy listening, but it’s the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re discovering something true.

As we commemorate the 50th anniversary of his death this year, let us explore the world of Shostakovich’s piano music, where every note pulses with raw emotion and hidden stories waiting to be unravelled.

First Piano Sonata

Dmitri Shostakovich

During his days at the Conservatoire, Shostakovich was ranked as a promising concert pianist, and the instrument remained important throughout his career. He wrote some of his most important works for the piano, and he usually played the piano parts of his chamber works and songs at their premiere.

Shostakovich was just 20 years old when he wrote his first Piano Sonata Op. 12. It’s a wild and youthful burst of energy that shows his early genius and his love for pushing boundaries. When his piano professor first heard the work, he commented, “Is this a piano sonata? No, it’s a sonata for metronome with piano accompaniment!”

This bold, single-movement of jagged rhythms, sharp dissonances and sudden mood shifts is terribly difficult to play. And just listen to the aggressive percussive passages with some fleeting lyrical moments. It’s full of avant-garde spirit and virtuosic flair with hints of Prokofiev and even Stravinsky.  

Aphorisms

Dmitri Shostakovich

The next piano work of Shostakovich goes off in a completely different direction as he composed a cycle of ten miniatures for piano, eventually titled Aphorisms. Written in Leningrad during his early experimental phase, these miniatures are witty and modern.

Each piece is titled evocatively, including Recitative, Serenade, Nocturne, March, and others, and has a distinct character. It’s like a musical sketch capturing a fleeting mood or idea. A scholar tells us that Shostakovich “subverted the traditional expectations implicit in the title into a ruthless and vinegary application.”

The musical world is turned upside down as we find atonal modernity and a number of caricature-like movements. That Nocturne is not hinting at things that go bump in the night but graphically depicts them. Plenty of sly humour and subtle melancholy and much youthful experimentation, if you ask me.   

Dmitry Shostakovich: Aphorisms, Op. 13 (Melvin Chen, piano)

Second Piano Concerto

Dmitri Shostakovich

The piano plays multiple roles in the hands of Shostakovich, and that includes 2 Piano Concertos. Both concertos are relatively short, reflecting his preference for concision and clarity. Above all, they showcase his ability to blend classical forms with modern, often satirical elements.

While the first concerto is a severe, biting, and anguished composition, the Second Piano Concerto, written in 1957, was a birthday present for his son Maxim. As such, it is good-natured, vibrant and sparkles with wit and warmth.

A playful woodwind intro leads to a lively piano melody, and a march-like bugle call shifts to a lyrical theme. The second movement bares raw sadness with a tender piano melody, and the third movement snaps back to a carefree tune. It all ends with a joyful flair, and according to some pianists, “it is one of the most fun concertos to perform in the entire piano repertoire.”    

Concertino for 2 Pianos

Shostakovich seriously considered pursuing a career as a concert pianist. However, after only winning a medal of honour at the Warsaw Chopin Competition in 1927, he decided to follow his calling as a composer.

Maxim Shostakovich, the composer’s son, was also a piano prodigy. Shostakovich composed the Concertino for two pianos in 1953 for Maxim as a kind of entrance examination for the Moscow Conservatory.

Maxim Shostakovich, 1967

The single-movement work provides plenty of material for young soloists to excel in front of their audience. It is an impassioned work with heavy dotted rhythms and a characteristic forward drive. There is plenty of room for virtuosity and two very attractive themes. One is emphatically melodic and the other march-like. Maxim premiered the piece alongside fellow student Alla Maloletkova in 1954.     

Concerto for Piano and Trumpet

Let’s feature one more concerto, specifically the “Concerto for piano and trumpet”, also known as the Piano Concerto No. 1 in C minor. Shostakovich unleashed his piece in the spring of 1933, and ever the musical provocateur, he blended the virtuosic flair of the piano with the brassy interjections of a solo trumpet.

This concerto was composed at the height of Shostakovich’s youthful exuberance. It crackles with a theatrical energy that veers from playful mockery to poignant lyricism. The piano drives the narrative with dazzling runs and biting rhythms, while the trumpet punctuates the dialogue like a wry commentator in moments of jazzy bravado.

This work pulses with Shostakovich’s signature irony, weaving quotations from Beethoven and Haydn into a modernist tapestry that both celebrates and subverts classical traditions. The trumpet part was inspired by the composer’s fascination with popular music and theatre, evoking everything from circus antics to heartfelt speeches.   

24 Preludes

In 1932/33, Dmitri Shostakovich poured his restless imagination into the 24 Preludes, Op. 34. It is a cycle of piano miniatures that traverse every major and minor key with a chameleon-like range of emotions.

Each prelude is a fleeting world unto itself. Some sparkle with sardonic wit, others brood with introspective melancholy, while a few erupt in virtuosic bursts of energy. Essentially, Shostakovich weaves a tapestry of contrasts between irony and veiled tragedy.

Shostakovich blends the romantic echoes of Chopin with the sharp edges of modernist dissonance and hints of Russian folk song. These works shimmer with immediacy, delivering emotional punches; the cycle offers a whimsical, haunting, and defiant journey through Shostakovich’s inner landscape  

Second Piano Trio

Father and Son Shostakovich

In this little survey of the piano works by Shostakovich, we should also take a quick look at the piano’s role in his chamber music. The work that stands out to me is the Piano Trio No. 2. It was written in the summer of 1944, during a time of mourning for personal and collective losses amidst the horrors of World War II.

This four-movement trio is a tapestry of anguish and resilience, music infused with a raw and almost unbearable emotional weight. The interplay of instruments creates a dialogue that feels like a requiem for a fractured world. Some commentators call it “the composer’s unspoken rage against the brutality of his time.”

Premiered in November 1944 by Shostakovich and members of the Beethoven Quartet, the trio stunned listeners with its emotional directness and technical demands, cementing its place as one of his most profound chamber works. The piano serves as both a driving rhythmic force and a poignant lyrical voice, alternating between sharp intensity and tender introspection.   

Second Piano Sonata

Shostakovich’s 2nd Piano Sonata was composed in 1943, and it is also a deeply introspective work. This three-movement sonata also reflects a musical shift from youthful exuberance to a more mature, contemplative voice.

Shostakovich, then in his late 30s, pours his personal and political struggles into the music and creates a soundscape that feels both intimate and universal. The heart of the sonata lies in the second movement, a haunting Largo that unfolds like a quiet lament with the piano weaving hesitant melodies that seem to mourn yet cling to hope.

The final movement drives with relentless energy, featuring intricate counterpoint and syncopated rhythms that culminate in a powerful yet bittersweet close. One needs technical precision and emotional maturity as a pianist to convey the layered complexity. This is one more exploration of Shostakovich’s inner works, simultaneously raw, reflective, and profoundly moving.

For Shostakovich, the piano becomes a most versatile and expressive voice. The instrument carries his signature blend of intensity, irony, and introspection across genres. The piano in Shostakovich’s hands, conveying personal struggle, subtle humour, or profound resilience, is one of the most intensely emotional storytellers in music.