Petit Palais de Chaillot - Rebecca Chaillot - Schubert & Liszt - 08/15/26

Franz Schubert: Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960 

Franz Liszt: Piano Sonata in B Minor, S. 178 

Rebecca Chaillot: Piano 

After a few days off to regroup after the previous weekend’s wide-ranging and very satisfying concert marathon, last Saturday my mom and I were back on the road to Colonzelle with our music-loving neighbor and friend Anne-Marie for another concert by the star of the area code and beyond, pianist Rebecca Chaillot, in her beautifully renovated and art-filled petit palais de Chaillot. 

The short but unbeatable program consisted of one major work by each of the two most famous Franz of classical music, who both happened to be ground-breaking composers of the Romantic era, namely the Austrian leader master Franz Schubert and the Hungarian piano virtuoso Franz Liszt. 

That well-timed concert was also a wonderful opportunity to beat the unavoidable malaise that never fails to permeate French national holidays and their weird combination of forced fun, frustrating closures and general apathy. Not to mention that there is something fundamentally unorthodox about celebrating the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in an officially secular country. But whatever. 

We made it to Colonzelle not too early, so we did not have to wait outside the gates, and not too late, so we were able to grab good seats in the packed-to-the-rafters upstairs room. The fact that the concert was dedicated to Étienne Miribel, an early and staunch supporter of the petit palais de Chaillot, may have brought in a few additional people but, in all likelihood, the prospect of hearing the wonderful Rebecca Chaillot was certainly motivation enough to attend. 

Completed only weeks before Schubert’s death at the age of 31 in November 1828, his sprawling Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960, which consists of two slow movements followed by two fast movements clocking in generally at about 40 minutes, is often considered his testament not only due to its timing, but also to its serene quality. Even in the more playful parts, of which they are plenty, one can sense an astonishing human and artistic maturity in the impeccable structures and nuanced emotions. 

Rebecca Chaillot is clearly not a woman prone to freak out or back down when facing a daunting challenge, and she entered Schubert’s ultimate journey with commendable awareness and confidence. She knew when to let the music speak for itself during the sublime introspective moments and when to perk up for the delightful stretches of light-heartedness. 

Completed 25 years after Franz Schubert’s work, Franz Liszt’s thrillingly flamboyant Piano Sonata in B Minor, S. 178 is another masterpiece of the 19th-century Romantic piano repertoire. This continuous, bigger-than-life movement of roughly 30 minutes tells the Faust legend featuring Faust, Gretchen and Mephistopheles themes, which Chaillot explained during her introduction, and a solid dose of highly dramatic music in the best Lisztian tradition. 

Effortlessly switching from Schubert’s meditative statement to Liszt’s dazzling theatrics, Chaillot happily let her hair down and clearly relished sinking her teeth into Liszt’s oh so exciting piece, full of technical challenges, vivid contrasts and brilliant inventions, darkness and light, starkness and sophistication, and gloriously brought it to the surprisingly subdued, almost whispery, ending. She then held that magical silence for an unusually long time, and so did we. 

Once the thundering ovation finally ended, she played a brief but deeply heart-felt improvisation that she dedicated “to Etienne”. And then we were done. Or were we? After having contributed logistically (putting away our chairs) and financially (dropping a donation in the basket) to that enchanted evening, we headed down to the crowded courtyard where a casual and inviting apéritif was being held. The return to reality was therefore progressive and pleasant, and we could not have asked for anything more.

Pradel Association - Schubert, Contet & Cavanna - 08/09/26

Franz Schubert (arranged by Bernard Cavanna): Im Frühling/Frühlingssehnsucht 

Franz Schubert (arranged by Bernard Cavanna): Das Wirtshaus 

Franz Schubert (arranged by Bernard Cavanna): Die Taubenpost 

Franz Schubert (arranged by Bernard Cavanna): Gretchen am Spinnrade 

Franz Schubert (arranged by Bernard Cavanna): Erlkönig 

Pascal Contet: Over the Mountains 

Bernard Cavanna: Trio avec accordéon n°1 (4th movement) 

Julie Cherrier-Hoffmann: Soprano 

Pascal Contet: Accordion 

Saskia Lethiec: Violon 

David Louwerse: Cello 

After exciting but late-ending back-to-back concerts in Le Poët-Laval and Bonlieu-sur-Roubion, last Sunday my mom and I were looking forward to attending a concert also starting at 8:30 PM, but in Dieulefit. Sometimes, there is indeed no place like home, especially when the concert venue is the extremely cool art studio of local painter Jean Soubeyran. Extra bonus: It also happens to have awesome acoustics (To think it used to be a textile mill!) 

Although the Fête du Picodon, the annual festival revolving around the area’s famous goat cheese, and its related markets and festivities had been taking over the town, I had prudently checked those out in the morning while conducting an increasingly frantic and ultimately successful search for solar eclipse glasses, which were in even higher demand than fans back then, and then we patiently waited for the hour to get late and the temperature to go down. 

And then we headed down the road for the concert organized by the Pradel Association, which, according to its advertised program, would treat us to lieder by Franz Schubert and a work by Bernard Cavanna performed by the association’s beloved regulars that are cellist David Louwerse, violinist Saskia Lethiec, accordionist Pascal Contet and soprano Julie Cherrier-Hoffmann. 

Finally, there we were, among a not-so-small audience that eventually pretty much filled up the unusual venue. In fact, the event was so informal that no programs were provided. But even then, it quickly became clear that the program would focus mainly on Schubert’s songs that had been arranged by contemporary accordionist and composer—and, maybe not so coincidentally, huge Schubert fan—Bernard Cavanna, and that was more than fine with us. 

Despite my lack of subject matter expertise, I was able to grasp some content of some of the songs with a little help from soprano and host Julie Cherrier-Hoffmann, and that would include the lovely opener, an exquisitely meditative ode to spring, which was probably “Im Frühling” or “Frühlingssehnsucht”. Delicately evoking the gentle beauty of nature, the composition got a soulful interpretation by Cherrier-Hoffmann, who, after having proven she could proficiently handle French repertoire on Friday night, sounded even better when handling German repertoire on Sunday night. Go figure. 

Another noteworthy miniature, but in a totally different register, was “Das Wirtshaus”, which vividly described a 17th-century “tavern” by way of energizing folk music and just the right amount of darkness. Let’s face it, there’s nothing like a little bit of accordion to give a gathering place a hospitable vibe, even when said place turns out to be a graveyard. Oops! 

Composed by Schubert a few weeks before his death to a poem by Johann Gabriel Seidl, “Die Taubenpost” is widely considered the composer’s inconspicuous swan song, in which an originally low-spirited “carrier pigeon”—or messenger of love— eventually puts on a positive-thinking hat and rather cheerfully confesses an irrepressible lust for life. I mean, it is probably not a coincidence that in the end we learn that the bird’s name is Sehnsucht (Longing). 

And then we moved on to the masterpieces, with first the ferociously dramatic and stunningly accomplished “Gretchen am Spinnrade”, which Schubert amazingly enough wrote when he was 17 years old. Famously mirroring Gretchen's relentless spinning wheel and relentless psychological turmoil, he created no less than one of the first German classical songs of the Romantic era, which sounded exceptionally good last Sunday. On a more personal note, it also reminded of the stunning piano version that Yuja Wang performed at Carnegie Hall once as part of her numerous encores. Ah! Those were the days. 

One year later, the still teenage composer came up with another highly intense tour de force inspired by Goethe’s poem’s “Erlkönig”. All the typical ingredients of a good horror story were there: Late night, dark woods, a galloping horse, a father and his son riding together, the “fairy king” and his alluring daughters, who are all only visible to the young boy whom they try to entice to join them, and the son eventually dying in his father’s arms. Besides the fact that the seducer-turned-abuser theme is unfortunately still as current as ever, the music’s dark overtones and brilliant descriptions came out deliciously spooky in the ensemble’s highly capable hands. 

But Schubert was not the only composer on the program, and we also got a chance to hear “Over the Mountains”, a recent work written and performed by our accordionist for the evening Pascal Contet. That compelling solo piece musically took us on what felt like a refreshing and meditative hike over snow-covered mountains just as we were in fact surrounded by some of Soubeyran’s paintings of snow-covered mountains. Sometimes things just fall into place and all feels right in the world.

The accordion also starred, along with the violin and the cello, in the extended fourth movement of Cavanna’s Trio avec accordéon n° 1, which unfolded smoothly over a unhurried ostinato that gradually expanded around two chords played unchangeably on the accordion. It was as intriguing as it was captivating.

In the end, we wrapped up our Schubert feast with his ever-popular “Ständchen”. Based on a poem by Ludwig Rellstab, this “Serenade” has secured a spot in the lieder repertoire as a prime example of the unabashedly lyrical (and slightly schmaltzy, if you ask me) German Romantic love song genre that Schubert helped instigate and promote. That said, it was a very pleasant end to a very pleasant evening, schmaltz and all.

Académie Provençale des Amis de Stuttgart - Vivaldi, Clarke, Leonarda & Brahms - 08/08/26

Antonio Vivaldi: Concerto for 4 Violins in B Minor, Op. 3 No. 10, RV 580 

Rebecca Clarke: “Poem” for String Quartet 

Isabella Leonarda: Trio Sonata, Opus 16 

Johannes Brahms: String Sextet No. 1 in B-Flat Major, Op. 18 

I would go far and wide for my beloved Johannes Brahms, and last Saturday evening, my mom and I went all the way to the very small and very quiet town of Bonlieu-sur-Roubion, whose main attraction, the beautiful complex of its medieval Basilique Sainte-Anne, was going to host a concert featuring—You’ve guessed it—Brahms. Even better, it would be performed by the young members of the Académie Provençale des Amis de Stuttgart (Provençal Academy of the Friends of Stuttgart) whose talent and dedication had already impressed us in previous years. 

Although it had not been decided if this year’s event would take place outside in the carefully maintained cloisters or inside the superbly restored barn since so much depends on the weather these days, once we had arrived there at a ridiculously early time, which is the price to pay if I go with my mom, we and the numerous other attendees were happy to hear that the performance would take place al fresco, even if fresh air is kind of hard to find these days. 

 We also realized that the intriguing program intentionally consisted of a wide range of works that had been composed by women, with women, for women or about women, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the birth of a favorite local luminary, the illustrious madame de Sévigné. Therefore, joyeux anniversaire, madame la Marquise ! 

It was consequently not surprising that the first piece, Antonio Vivaldi’s Concerto for 4 Violins in B Minor, Op. 3, had been written for the female orphans of the Ospedale della Pietà in 14th-century Venice. Those abandoned girls would often become prodigiously skilled musicians and perform all over Europe in wildly popular, highly unusual all-female concerts. As performed on Saturday in Bonlieu-sur-Roubion by a mix of prodigiously skilled young men and women, including the four violinists Covandonga Alonso, Carola Eva-Richter, Noé Inui and Kai Ono, the lively piece quickly filled up the elegantly rustic setting with an infectious joie de vivre and plenty of virtuosic sparkles. 

Then the energy level went down a notch (or two) with Rebecca Clarke’s short “Poem” for String Quartet, whose muted string sounds created a quiet, serene, maybe a tad melancholic, mood. Its delicate impressionistic touches brought to mind Ravel and Debussy, which we had heard the previous evening, and contributed to cooling off the hearts and minds as the temperatures were thankfully getting into the bearable warm zone. 

A contemporary of madame de Sévigné, 17th-century Bolognese composer Isabella Leonarda could brag about having made history by writing the first set of instrumental sonatas ever published by a woman. Listening to her lovely Trio Sonata, Opus 16, we could see why she had been bestowed this significant honor. It was not just pretty and engaging, but it was also as well-crafted as any score produced by male composers of early Italian Baroque church music. 

That said, at the end of the day, we had come for Johannes Brahms’ String Sextet No. 1 in B-Flat Major, Op. 18, which, in all likelihood, he concocted in tight collaboration of his fellow composer and dear friend Clara Schumann. It is hard to believe that Brahms was just 26 years old when he wrote this highly ambitious, boldly unusual, remarkably accomplished and perennially popular masterpiece. And it was hard to believe that the young musicians on the stage, who mostly had to be in their twenties too, could be so proficient and poised as to effortlessly negotiate the numerous challenges of the thorny composition. But they did, and we were all very grateful for it. 

Our evening had started with the incomparable Vivaldi, and it would close with him too, as the encore turned out to be the highly dramatic and unfailingly exciting Presto movement of the summer from The Four Seasons, which was led by Noé Inui, a clearly fearless violinist and bona fide citizen of the world, who was born in Brussels to a Greek mother and a Japanese father (You just can’t make that up). 

Although we could definitely have used an actual thunderstorm on that still unusually warm evening, we were more than happy to content ourselves with the fast and furious musical version of fierce lightning, ominous thunder, turbulent winds and raging hail. In fact, the performance was so vividly evocative that we almost felt refreshed for a few minutes! Two down, one more to go.

Pradel Association - Fauré, Debussy, Chausson, Massenet, Poulenc, Ravel & Bachelet - 08/07/26

Gabriel Fauré: Élégie, Opus 24 

Gabriel Fauré: Nell 

Gabriel Fauré: Clair de lune 

Gabriel Fauré: Mandoline 

Gabriel Fauré (adapted by Frédéric Chaslin): Après un rêve, avec violoncelle

Claude Debussy: Nuit d’étoiles 

Claude Debussy: Beau soir 

Claude Debussy: Romance 

Ernest Chausson: Le colibri 

Jules Massenet (adapted by Frédéric Chaslin): Élégie, avec violoncelle 

Francis Poulenc: Les chemins de l’amour 

Maurice Ravel: Piano Trio for Piano, Violin and Cello 

Maurice Ravel: Asie from Shéhérazade 

Alfred Bachelet: Chère nuit 

Julie Cherrier-Hoffmann: Soprano 

Frédéric Chaslin: Piano 

Saskia Lethiec: Violon 

David Louwerse: Cello 

After an almost week-long break in La France Profonde—In my case, the insanely bucolic Puy de Dôme region—during which I did not do much more than indulge in eating, drinking, family bonding and sleeping, all in delightfully cooler temperatures, I was back in Dieulefit last Monday, at which point my mom made sure to remind of the flea market, the arts and crafts festival, and the three concerts that were lined up for the rest of the week. 

The first concert, which was organized by the relentless Pradel association, would take place on Friday evening in Le Poët-Laval’s Centre Yvon Morin, a wonderful local art gallery that includes a cool performance space. Getting there is not for the faint of heart or the mobility challenged, but the intimate size, the tasteful décor, the friendly atmosphere and the decent acoustics more than make up for the trouble of walking down (and later, up) the treacherous stone steps of the famously beautiful hilltop village. 

So, that’s where my mom and I were on Friday evening, for a promising program dedicated to a wide range of French music, from a boldly complex instrumental trio to some of the most irresistible classical French songs. The musicians included familiar faces and confirmed virtuosos such as violinist Saskia Lethiec and cellist David Louwerse, as well as new names such as soprano Julie Cherrier-Hoffman and pianist (and conductor, composer and, in this case, host) Frédéric Chaslin. We were in all likelihood in good hands. 

After an excessively early arrival (My mom being constantly paranoid about parking and open seating), a subsequent long wait, and a late opening of the center, the relatively small—but, as Pradel Association’s president Pascaline Dallemagne herself pointed out, high-quality—crowd was ready. 

First of all though, the right atmosphere had to be set. Enter Frédéric Chaslin and David Louwerse, who masterfully kicked off the concert with Gabriel Fauré’s exquisitely melancholic “Élégie” (Elegy), Opus 24. The rest of the first half of the carefully curated program was filled with songs by not only Gabriel Fauré, but also Claude Debussy, Ernest Chausson, Jules Massenet and Francis Poulenc, a sterling group of 19th- and 20th-century French composers indeed. French soprano Julie Cherrier-Hoffmann proved to a thoroughly engaging singer, who cleverly leveraged her highly nuanced voice and her rock-solid technique to vivaciously express the agonizing pains, and occasionally the invigorating joys, of love. 

Unsurprisingly, the biggest hits were two compositions that had been recently adapted by Chaslin so that they would include the cello (When you are lucky enough to have David Louwerse around, it is hard to refrain from putting him to work). Therefore, we had the privilege to attend the ultra-exclusive world premières of these new versions of Fauré’s “Après un rêve” (After a Dream) and Massenet’s “Élégie” (Elegy), in which the gorgeous darkness of the cello brilliantly accompanied the emotionally charged singing while the steady piano was reliably keeping everything under control. There is no doubt that the composers would have been pleased. 

After the intermission, Dieulefit-Le Poët-Laval regular Saskia Lethiec finally joined the party for Maurice Ravel’s superb Piano Trio for Piano, Violin and Cello, the one he wrote in a mad rush before enlisting to go fight in World War I (Never mind that due to his short stature, he reluctantly ended up making himself useful as a volunteer truck driver instead of going to the front). The three instrumentalists delivered a perfectly balanced, deeply committed performance of the richly textured, vividly colorful piece. Even the restless toddler and frisky dog that were sporadically running around could not break the magic spell we were all under. 

After such virtuosic fireworks, we had to briefly regroup in order to be able to reconnect with the more ephemeral pleasure of the last two numbers on the program: Maurice Ravel’s exotic “Asie” (Asia) from his Shéhérazade song cycle, whose increasing intensity was powerfully mesmerizing, and Alfred Bachelet’s opulent “Chère nuit” (Dear Night) whose lush melody leisurely unfolded in a dreamy haze. 

 It was getting late, but we were not done yet. As a party favor, the four musicians got together for a totally improvised and highly entertaining version of Erik Satie’s sensual waltz “Je te veux” (I Want You), which concluded our evening in Le Poët-Laval on a totally uplifting note. One down. Two more to go.

Appoggiature - UN Stabat Mater, DES compositeurs - 07/26/26

Zoltan Kodaly: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Urmas Sisask: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Zoltan Kodaly: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Francis Poulenc: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Joseph Haydn: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Gyorgy Orban: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Antonin Dvorak: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Francis Poulenc: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Karl Jenkins: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Roland de Lassus: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Karl Jenkins: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Antonin Dvorak: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Roland de Lassus: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Joseph Haydn: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Zoltan Kodaly: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Zoltan Kodaly: Excerpt from Stabat Mater 

Conductor: Eliette Roche 

Piano: Marielle Covell 

There is no rest of the music-loving brave in Dieulefit in summer, and that’s why my mom and I found ourselves in the town's Protestant temple last Sunday afternoon for a concert by the short-term choir appropriately called “chœur éphèmère” of the Appoggiature association, a 22-year-old organization we had frankly never heard of until last week, when I noticed inconspicuous flyers advertising the event on local message boards. Better late than never. 

The concept is ingenious: Advanced voice students get together for three days in May and one week in July under the baton of choral director Eliette Roche to practice, practice, practice. They may not make it to Carnegie Hall, but they nevertheless get to perform twice in July, including in Dieulefit, and twice in October, so the pressure remains on. 

Even better, this year, the intrepid maestra decided to embark choir and audience on a cool little adventure by putting together excerpts from a few Stabat Mater by various composers and create “a bright and colorful stained-glass window”, as she put it. And why not? The 13th-century Christian hymn to the agonizing Virgin Mary during the crucifixion of her son Jesus Christ has been a constant source of inspiration throughout the centuries, and we were curious to hear what would come out of this intriguing experience. 

Well, it turned out that a very satisfying performance came out of it, and we were able to enjoy it even more than expected since we had been handed concert programs that contained the various stanzas in Latin and French, the names and nationalities of their composers, and their dates of publication. Much appreciated bonus: The different versions of some of those stanzas would be sung consecutively, which would allow for fascinating comparative studies. 

The concert started and finished with 20th-century Hungarian composer Zoltan Kodaly, who was paired with 20th-century Estonian composer Urmas Sisask for the “Stabat mater dolorosa” stanza at the beginning and with 18th-century Italian composer Giovanni Battista Pergolesi for the “Quando corpus morietur” stanza at the end. They were all attractive compositions sung by attractive voices, but if there had to be a winner, the Baroque maestro Pergolesi would probably be it. 

Another exciting passage was the “Virgo virginum Praeclara” stanza, which was handled by the outstanding trio of 20th-century Welsh composer Karl Jenkins for the delightfully hot-blooded version, 19th-century Czech composer Dvorak for the gorgeously lyrical version, and a 16th-century Belgian composer Roland de Lassus for the slightly more subdued version. Other highlights included 20th-century French composer Francis Poulenc making two grand appearances that were both romantic and fiery as well as 18th-century Austrian composer Joseph Haydn making his own rather muscular, deeply emotional contributions.

Throughout the non-stop challenging patchwork composition, the choir members sang their hearts out, accomplished pianist Marielle Covell provided discreet but indispensable instrumental accompaniment, and maestra Roche succeeded in making sure that everything would work out flawlessly. I bet that Mary would have been extremely flattered by all the interest she arose and all the stunning music she inspired. 

Once the performance was over and we were finally allowed to express our gratefulness, we applauded copiously. In return, we were served some more Stabat Mater that gloriously filled up the temple as an encore. But then again, one cannot get too much of a good thing.

Comps Historique - Alter Duo - Saint-Saëns, Eccles, Massenet, Mozart, Ravel & Bottesini - 07/24/26

Camille Saint-Saëns: The Elephant from The Carnival of the Animals 

Camille Saint-Saëns: The Swan from The Carnival of the Animals 

Henry Eccles: Violin Sonata in G Minor 

Jules Massenet: Meditation from Thais 

Alfred Desenclos: Aria et Rondo pour contrebasse et piano 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Medley from The Magic Flute 

Maurice Ravel: Bolero 

Giovanni Bottesini: Bolero 

Julien Mathias: Bass 

Jean-Baptiste Mathulin: Piano 

As all kinds of musical events are popping up in and around Dieulefit, it is becoming difficult to figure out which ones to choose, if we must choose. On the other hand, it is obviously hard to complain about such an embarrassment of richness, especially these days as the excessive heat has subdued and all we have to worry about is how to keep up pace and miss as little as possible. 

Among all the endlessly inventive organizations providing us with superior quality performances on a shoestring budget, the Comps Historique association is always at the top of our list, and not just because a good friend of my mom’s volunteers for them. We love their wide-ranging programming, of course, but truth be told, we love the little hilltop Romanesque church they use for their concerts even more. 

And that’s where my mom and I, and a lot of other eager music lovers, were last Friday evening at the totally civilized time of 6:00 PM for Alter Duo, which consists of Julien Mathias at the bass and Jean-Baptiste Mathulin at the piano (Seriously). Those two buddies have known each other for over two decades and, when they’re not teaching at the music conservatories of Lyon and Geneva respectively, they take the time to have fun together and to share it with the rest of us too. And we are all very thankful for that. 

The concert started with a French Romantic composer that everybody knows and loves, Camille Saint-Saëns, and two excerpts from a work of his that everybody knows and loves, The Carnival of the Animals. “The Elephant” and “The Swan” episodes had not been randomly selected though. They had made it into our program because they could easily be handled by the piano and bass, even if they were not originally written for them. On Sunday evening, the bass-based Elephant stomped around endearingly before the cello-based Swan graciously glided by to the most exquisite melody. We were off to a good start. 

We then jumped back two centuries and across the Channel for English Baroque composer Henry Eccles and his Violin Sonata in G Minor, a wonderful set of four movements that adroitly blended French elegance and Italian liveliness. Getting to hear such an uncommon arrangement of such formal work was both entertaining and educational. 

This summer is slowly but surely turning into the summer of Thais for us. We have heard “Meditation” performed first on the violin by Baptiste Chaillot, then on the cello by David Louwerse, and last Friday on the bass by Julien Mathias. I will not even try to pick a favorite, but I have to say that the bass version was certainly the most outside-the-box. It preserved the stunning lyricism of the original while wrapping it in a sexily dark sheath. Fun Fact: Massenet was from Saint-Étienne, just like the members of Alter Duo. 

And then, as if to keep things interesting, Mathulin informed us that they were making a few changes to the program, starting with the addition of modern French composer Alfred Desenclos and his Aria et Rondo pour contrebasse et piano. The Aria turned out to be a deeply Romantic love song and the Rondo a thrillingly jazzy tour de force. That unexpected treat ended up rocking the little church to a rare degree. 

Just as unexpected, but definitely more familiar, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart showed up next with a medley from The Magic Flute, never mind that it is probably one of my least favorite operas (All that perkiness!). That said, if you have never heard “The Queen of the Night”, which is one the highest arias in the standard opera repertoire, played on the bass, which is one of the lowest instruments in the standard orchestra repertoire, you don’t know what you’re missing. It was truly amazing. 

I suspected that Maurice Ravel’s hypnotic Bolero would stay on the program for the simple reason that Mathulin was dutifully practicing it when we walked into the church earlier than planned. And sure enough, there he was, expertly churning out its inexorable rhythm and sinuous theme all by himself. 

Why stop at one bolero though? No reason. Therefore, it did not take long for us to be served the uplifting Bolero by Italian Romantic composer, conductor, and double bass virtuoso (He was after all called “The Paganini of the double bass”) Giovanni Battesini. That one put the merciless spotlight on Mathias, who handled it with plenty of his own virtuosity. 

And that was not all. After those two charming and talented young men were effusively thanked with a thunderous ovation, they came back with two encores: “Kicho”, a musical tribute from Astor Piazzolla (It seems that this summer is turning into the summer of Piazzolla too) to Enrique “Kicho” Diaz, the legendary double bass player who was also his bandmate and his friend, as well as two different versions—one slow, one fast— of the bass theme found in The Trout Quintet by Franz Schubert. Just because.

Journées Musicales de Dieulefit - Kodaly, Piazzolla, Constantini & Schwarz - 07/18/26

Zoltan Kodaly: Duo for Violin and Cello, Opus 7 

Astor Piazzolla: Milonga sin palabras 

Claudio Constantini: Suite latinoamericana 

Alejandro Schwarz: Calles lejanas 

Astor Piazzolla: 3 minutos con la realidad 

Astor Piazzolla: Ausencias 

Alejandro Schwarz: La despareja 

Astor Piazzolla: Muerte del ángel 

Sabrina Condello: Violin 

François Daudet: Piano 

David Louwerse: Cello 

Victor Hugo Villena: Bandoneon 

Another summer night in Dieulefit, another concert organized by the Chemins de Pierre association as part of its annual “Journées Musicales de Dieulefit” (Musical Days of Dieulefit). For last Saturday night, we had been promised an exciting-sounding tango evening featuring highly popular festival regulars that are pianist François Daudet, who is also its artistic director, and cellist David Louwerse, along with newcomers Sabrina Condello, a wildly eclectic French violinist, and Victor Hugo Villena, a world-renowned Argentinian bandoneonist, in the small Église Saint-Pierre. 

The new phone-only ticketing system that had created serious confusion the previous evening did not fare much better on Saturday (My mom had the seat she had reserved, but I did not have any seat at all because, while my reservation had been recorded, the seat I had requested next to her somehow had been assigned to somebody else, so I ended up in the back of the church. Le sigh). But the atmosphere was festive, the line-up promising, and while my spot was less than desirable, it also happened to be located right behind our friends Jacques and Jacqueline, which gave us the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

The concert started with two pieces that Daudet called “amuse-bouches” in his opening speech. Due to my far away location, and despite the superior acoustics, I was not able to hear most of the introduction by Sabrina Condello, but the frustration associated to that lack of intel disappeared quickly once she and Villena started to play what to my untrained ear would qualify as “deconstructed tango”. The style was boldly modern, the performance effortlessly virtuosic, and the two mystery pieces set the tone for a truly entertaining evening full of discoveries and adventures. 

We finally kicked off the official program with Zoltan Kodaly’s Duo for Violin and Cello, Opus 7, the less tango-flavored piece of them all, which had Condello and Louwerse pair up for an intriguing little experience combining Hungarian folk music’s lively rhythms and classical music’s more formal structures. I am pleased to report that it worked like a charm. 

A tango-centric concert obviously must include Astor Piazzolla, the composer whose influence on tango simply cannot be overstated, and there he was next in line. Written for his wife, “Milonga sin palabras” (Milonga without words) was a discreet entrance, but its gentle lyricism and understated melancholy clearly came through and moved all of us. 

Peru-born and Spain-residing pianist, bandoneonist and composer Claudio Constantini released his crossover work Suite latinoamericana that blends Western European classical music, Argentinean tango, and other Latin American popular genres back in 2013, but as played by Daudet and Villega last Saturday, it sounded as fresh and inventive as if it had been created yesterday. 

After having performed in various configurations, the four musicians got together for “Calles lejanas” by Alejandro Schwarz and never left the stage again for the rest of the evening. Fully powered up by this quadruple force, those “distant streets” decisively took us on a short but engaging journey. 

We went back to Piazzolla for what turned out my favorite part of the concert with the double feature of “3 minutos con la realidad”, which were three exciting minutes in the chaotic reality of big cities like Buenos Aires or New York City, and “Ausencias”, a quintessential nuevo tango song that which beautifully evoked the unavoidable nostalgia brought by the “absences” of the ones we love and miss. 

More tango was served with Alejandro Schwarz’s “La despareja”, whose “unmatched” nature was still attractive despite its quirky kinks.

And the official program wrapped up with a dynamite take on Piazzolla’s “La muerte del ángel”, one of his most dazzling masterpieces that includes a brilliant structure, relentless energy, nonstop drama, a touch of jazz, and a unique mix of classical and new. There was no stopping the musicians who dove into it head-first with infectious jubilation and took it all the way to the finish line. 

Speaking of Piazzolla’s masterpieces, the loudly requested encore was a soaringly beautiful version of—What else?—“Oblivion”, which has to be the only tango tune that I, and apparently countless other tango neophytes in the audience, would instantly recognize and swoon to. And we did.

Journées Musicales de Dieulefit - Beethoven & Brahms - 07/17/26

Ludwig van Beethoven: Piano Trio No. 7 in B-Flat Major, Opus 97 (Archduke Trio) 

Johannes Brahms: Piano Trio No. 2 in C Major, Opus 87 

François Daudet: Piano 

Florimond dal Zotto: Cello 

Rachel Koblyakov: Violin 

As time goes by, I have happily become reacquainted with one of my favorite summer musical treats in Dieulefit, namely the “Journées Musicales de Dieulefit” (Musical Days of Dieulefit), which the Chemins de Pierre association has been dutifully organizing for over two decades already. According to tradition, around Bastille Day, the festival’s tireless musical director and eminent pianist François Daudet invites some of his closest musician friends to take over the small Église Saint-Pierre for a couple of days of appealingly eclectic programming. 

This year, the new ticketing system was still hopelessly old-fashioned (Only phone calls please) and not always efficient (My mom and I got inexplicably moved two rows up from our requested and confirmed seats), the chairs are as tightly packed as ever and there is of course no AC, but then again, the quality level is consistently high and the atmosphere always pleasantly informal, not to mention that we always end up bumping into friends, so it all works out at the end. And let’s face it, it is wonderful to be able to attend exciting cultural events right in town too, even when they start at the ungodly hour of 9:00 PM. 

Last Friday evening, the Trio Arborescence, which includes François Daudet at the piano, Rachel Koblyakov at the violin and Florimond dal Zotto at the cello, started their unimpeachable classical music program with Ludwig van Beethoven’s Piano Trio No. 7 in B-Flat Major, Opus 97, AKA the "Archduke Trio", which the man dedicated to Archduke Rudolph of Austria, the youngest of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II’s twelve children, who was a passionate pianist as well as a patron, a friend, and a composition student of Beethoven’s. Incidentally, during his relatively short life (He died at 43), he would be Beethoven’s dedicatee no fewer than 14 times, including for major works such as Missa Solemnis, the Hammerklavier and the Grosse Fugue. 

The "Archduke Trio" stands out without a doubt as one of the many peaks of the composer’s extensive career. Displaying both good-natured humor and a solid dose of sweeping grandeur, it also enchants with its unabashed lyricism and challenges with its ambitious complexity, all while remaining readily accessible. When it is performed by a virtuosic ensemble such as the Trio Arborescence in such an acoustically blessed space as the Église Sant-Pierre, the result is simply extraordinary. And it certainly was last Friday. 

After the original short pause that turned into an unscheduled longer intermission was over (In the end, the people who had rushed outside to get a breath of fresh air quickly realized that there was none to be found and got back in just as quickly), we all turned our undivided attention to Johannes Brahms’ sprawling, occasionally Hungarian-flavored Piano Trio No. 2 in C Major, Opus 87, in which, among other fun happenstances, the mischievous violin and cello repeatedly gang up while the cast-out piano carries on unperturbed. 

Finding the perfect balance between formal structure and Romantic élan, the composition keeps all three instruments busy with technical and emotional feats in an ever-growing web of invention. So many themes, so little time! Clara Schumann was a fan, and even Brahms himself was uncharacteristically pleased with this piece, so it has been validated times and times over, including by the captivated audience last Friday night, after the three musicians had flawlessly delivered a thrilling performance of it. 

After the trio had received a well-deserved ecstatic ovation, they came back with a very special gift in the achingly beautiful slow movement of the Piano Trio No. 2 by… Felix Mendelssohn, of all people. As I was listening to the delicate lullaby, I could not stop thinking that German composers will never cease to amaze me, and neither will French players.

Pradel Association - Barroco-Tango - 07/15/26

Marin Marais: La folia 

Carlo Gardel: Por una cabeza 

Antonio Vivaldi: Cello Sonata in A minor, RV 43 (Largo and Allegro) 

Astor Piazzolla: Tango Remembrances 

Astor Piazzolla: Ave Maria 

Gerardo Matos Rodriguez: La cumparsita 

Astor Piazzolla: Café 1930 

Astor Piazzolla: Le grand tango 

Guillaume Hodeau: Bandoneon 

David Louwerse: Cello 

Things have been seriously heating up on all fronts in Drôme Provençale lately, so, when a series of big bad storms started to hit Dieulefit last Wednesday afternoon for the first time in a couple of months, they were understandably greeted with much relief at first. However, as time went on and they showed no sign of abating, my heart started to sink. The Pradel Association had organized an outdoor cello and bandoneon concert intriguingly entitled “Barroco-Tango” in the beautiful little amphitheater in Le Poët-Laval, and that exciting endeavor was slowly but surely becoming, quite literally, a washout. 

But not to worry. Resolutely undeterred and endlessly resourceful, Pradel Association’s leader Pascaline Dallemagne quickly invited everybody over to her nearby large stone house, where a wide range of masterclasses and concerts occasionally take place. And that’s how my mom, a few other hardy souls and I braved the elements and showed up wet, but hopeful, to hear the heavenly duo constituted by cellist David Louwerse, a long-time regular, and bandoneonist Guillaume Hodeau, a less frequent but most welcome guest, in what eventually felt like an ultra-exclusive soirée in a rustic Parisian salon. 

The concert program, which was essentially a live version of the CD the two musicians have just released, started with “La Folia”, a deliciously spicy adaptation of a work by Marin Marais, a not so well-known French Baroque composer and viol player who got his 15 minutes of fame in 1991 thanks to the magnificent French film Tous les Matins du Monde (All the Mornings of the World). And while the bandoneon may not sound like an obvious choice to express this type of old-fashioned refinement, Hodeau rightfully pointed out that the instrument first appeared in churches, among other places. So there. 

The engaging opener was followed by an uplifting take of the earworm that is “Por una cabeza” by early 20th-century French-born Argentine singer, composer, actor, and tango superstar Carlo Gardel. Although I know next to nothing about tango, the melody rang a bell to me, which can only mean one thing: This song had achieved some kind of fame at some point. 

Back to the Baroque era, we were transported to Italy this time, where we became acquainted with delightfully vivacious versions of the Largo and the Allegro from the Cello Sonata in A Minor, RV 43 by prodigious composer, impresario, and virtuoso violinist Antonio Vivaldi. His adapted music was as thrilling as he could have hoped for. 

And then we finally moved on to a mini-festival of the boldly ground-breaking and immensely popular 20th-century Argentine tango composer and bandoneon virtuoso Astor Piazolla, with first an interesting experience by famously eclectic cellist Yo-Yo Ma, who in 1997 decided to record himself in duo with Piazolla’s old tracks. And so was born the vibrant “Tango Remembrances”, which Louwerse and Hodeau blazed through with devilish glee. 

Another wonderful surprise was Astor Piazolla’s “Ave Maria”, which was a winning combination of tenderness and spirituality for a simple and yet truly inspired ode to the Virgin Mary. 

“La cumparsita” by Uruguayan musician Gerardo Matos Rodriguez was first introduced to us by the two musicians as a huge hit that everybody knew and that therefore did not need any introduction. Once their performance was over and upon seeing our puzzled faces, the musicians charitably let us know what this sad but catchy little song was, which was much needed and much appreciated. 

Back to Piazzolla, “Café 1930” proved to be more complex in composition and more romantic in mood than traditional tango fare. In fact, this new brand of tango is astonishingly enough meant to be listened to instead of danced to. But in the end, its power of attraction was just as formidable as its more conventional form. 

The official program closed with Piazzolla’s “Le grand tango”, which Louwerse deemed “more serious” and “more cerebral”, to which Hodeau laconically replied that it was “longer”. Composed in 1982 for prominent Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, the three continuous movements adroitly mix traditional tango rhythms and jazz-flavored syncopation in one swell swoop. 

Last, but not least, the encore was a cool tribute to French singer-songwriter and poet as well as hard-core jazz afficionado Claude Nougaro and French accordionist, bandoneonist, and composer Richard Galliano, who became his friend, his accordionist, and eventually his band leader. And that’s how our musical evening came to an end, right before the sky finally cleared up and everybody shared improvised drinks to celebrate a masterfully accomplished mission.

Petit Palais de Chaillot - Boris Borgolotto & Clara Saussac - Westhoff, Handel, Brahms, Pergolesi, Schubert, Rachmaninoff & Bartok - 07/09/26

Johann Paul von Westhoff: Imitazione delle campane from Sonata No. 3 in D Minor 

George Friedrich Handel: Prayer from Dettinger Te Deum in D Major HWV 283 (arranged by Carl Flesch) 

Johannes Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 108 

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi: Sicilienne in E Minor 

Franz Schubert: Sonatina in D Major, Opus 137, No. 1 

Sergei Rachmaninoff: Vocalise 

Bela Bartok: Romanian Folk Dances, Sz. 56

Boris Borgolotto: Violin 

Clara Saussac: Piano 

Concert season has finally started in earnest in and around Dieulefit, and while I have been pickier than my mom, who does not hesitate to drive way out of town three nights in a row to get her cultural fix while the cat and I dutifully hold the fort, there was no way I was going to miss another enchanted musical evening in Rebecca Chaillot’s “petit palais de Chaillot” in Colonzelle, even on a school night. 

Indeed, that’s where, last Thursday evening, the young globe-trotting violinist Boris Borgolotto would join his former study buddy and regular recital partner, local pianist Clara Saussac, for another ambitious and engaging program that included a healthy mix of composers, from the unknown to me Johann Paul von Westhoff to my beloved Johannes Brahms, and that would thankfully start at the totally civilized time of 7:00 PM. 

Even better, once we had arrived in the courtyard of the “little palace of Chaillot”, we realized that the performance was going to take place in the large room upstairs, so I finally had the opportunity to check it out. Knowing the impeccable taste of the lady of the house, I was not surprised to find myself in a welcoming art-filled space anchored by a majestic piano impassibly waiting for some action under a high vaulted ceiling with wooden beams. Even the absence of AC had been addressed with the semi-controversial presence of a fan, which would eventually be turned off as it started getting loud but, hey, that’s the thought that counts, and strategically opened doors. 

Once everybody had settled down and the bells from the church next door had let us know that it was 7:00 PM, the musicians kicked off the concert with Imitazione delle campane from Sonata No. 3 in D Minor by German Baroque composer, and noted violin virtuoso, Johann Paul von Westhoff. A short but rewarding—and particularity timely too—opener, that “imitation of church bells” spontaneously reminded of Arvo Pärt’s “Fratres”, of all things, due to its thrilling inventiveness and irresistible hypnotic power, which needless to say is a mighty compliment. 

It was followed by the Carl Flesch’s equally short and equally rewarding arrangement of George Friedrich Handel’s soulful Prayer from Dettinger Te Deum in D Major HWV 283, which pianist and violinist handled beautifully. 

Predictably enough, the highlight of the evening for me was the duo’s commanding performance of Johannes Brahms’ perfectly structured, endlessly complex and emotionally intense Violin Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 108, one of his most accomplished works in a career that contains plenty. Everything I love about that piece, including the gorgeous lyricism, the vivid contrast between playfulness and darkness, the sheer compositional brilliance, was brilliantly conveyed and fully enjoyed. 

After such a memorable experience, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi’s intimate Sicilienne in E Minor and its soothing melodies was exactly what we needed to calm down while remaining fully involved in the moment. 

Another significant tour de force was Franz Schubert’s Sonatina in D Major, Opus 137, No. 1, during which Saussac and Borgolotto displayed total mastery of their craft and the composition. Immediately accessible and yet plenty intricate when you really look into it, the work never ceased to surprise and seduce. 

Next, the unstoppable duo gracefully unfolded the delicate melancholy and meditative mood of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s ever-popular song Vocalise. 

Things perked up again quickly though, with a dynamite version of Bela Bartok’s zesty Romanian Folk Dances, Sz. 56, which was already played during our last visit to the petit palais de Chaillot, but then again, who can get enough of it? Not us, and we were delighted to have a chance to hear it again. 

Once the last note had faded away, we readily expressed our gratitude for such a wonderful hour with a resounding ovation, and that earned us a lovely instrumental version of “Les berceaux” by Gabriel Fauré. The half lullaby half barcarolle turned the energy level down again to the gentle rhythms of the rocking waves it invoked and subtly prepared us for a Zen rest of the evening.

Petit Palais de Chaillot - Rebecca & Baptiste Chaillot - Dvorak, Bartok, Schubert, Massenet & Vivaldi - 06/28/26

Antonin Dvorak: Sonatina 

Bela Bartok: Romanian Folk Dances, Sz. 56 

Franz Schubert: Violin Sonata No.1 in D Major, D. 384 

Jules Massenet: Meditation from Thais 

Antonio Vivaldi: Rain from Winter (The Four Seasons) 

Antonin Dvorak: Sonatina 

Rebecca Chaillot: Piano 

Baptiste Chaillot: Violin 

Another summer weekend in Drôme Provençale, another promising concert lined up, even if my mom and I had to regretfully turn down the invitation to another concert happening at the same time and valiantly go all the way to Colonzelle to attend our preferred option. But then again, where wouldn’t we go for a chance to hear local girl and pianist extraordinaire Rebecca Chaillot, who this time would be accompanied by her Geneva-based violinist brother Baptiste Chaillot as a bonus, in her “petit palais de Chaillot”? 

For sure, we had been there before and were happy to make the trek again, especially since we knew for a fact that her “little palace of Chaillot” had been an old rundown house that she has meticulously and gorgeously restored, and in fine turned into an exciting art center where several pianos are strategically scattered and art lovers from all walks of life gratefully converge for concerts, open rehearsals, masterclasses, recordings, exhibits, and more. 

During the last couple of summers, we loved attending early evening concerts in the spacious courtyard where her music-making often had to playfully compete with the singing of persistent birds. This year, however, the headlines-making heatwave that had mercilessly lingered over most of France was a game-changer, and we were kindly informed that the concert would take place in the downstairs smaller room, which turned out to be cooler in every possible way (The ideal room temperature! The amazing stone vaulted ceiling! The wonderfully intimate atmosphere!) than the bigger room upstairs or the courtyard outside. 

The mood in the reduced space was decidedly informal, but that did not keep the musicians from taking full advantage of the top-notch acoustics and delivering a first-rate recital. No program had been provided, so we relied on our hostess’ descriptions and let the magic of the music do the rest. We started with a Romantic sonatina from Antonin Dvorak, a gentle opening number that made us feel welcome to this relaxed family reunion, where the siblings would brilliantly perform under the watchful eye of their mom. 

If the Dvorak’s sonatina had been a nice introduction, Bela Bartok’s fierce Romanian Folk Dances were the perfect opportunity to let countless virtuosic sparks fly all over the place. Overflowing with various musical ingredients from the composer’s native Hungary such as irregular rhythms and infectious melodies, this set of six dances was a divine breath of fresh air on that hot Sunday. 

The Bartok tour de force had dazzled us, but it was Schubert’s Violin Sonata No.1 in D Major, D.384 and its subtly evocative clarity that slowly imposed itself as the pièce de resistance of the evening. Cleverly leveraging the kind of synchronicity that can only happen between siblings, Rebecca and Baptiste Chaillot flawlessly brought out the bubbliness and the daintiness, but also the youthful boldness, of this relatively short piece. 

A lot of people who are not familiar with Jules Massenet’s opera Thais have heard and fallen in love with his famously show-stopping aria for solo violin “Meditation” anyway. It is therefore not surprising that it is one of the most often performed encores by violinists, and who could blame them? Certainly not the insatiable audience. And sure enough, we all swooned in remarkable unison on Sunday evening in the petit palais de Chaillot. 

Next was a wink at the climate challenge we had been facing with the Largo from the winter of The Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi. Even if it did not bring us the relief we were all fervently hoping for, that pared-down version and its countless raindrops steadily falling in pizzicato under the solo violin’s catchy melody was a fun little treat. 

After having come full circle with another mystery Romantic sonatina by Dvorak, this delightful hour of uplifting music ended in the best possible way, with an informal get-together around cool refreshments, local amuse-bouches and friendly conversation.

Comps Historique and Pradel Association – Fête de l'alto – 4 altos, 4 générations – 06/21/26

Lodovico Beretta: Canzon a quattro 

Sheng Song: Canzon’s Adventure 

Frédéric Chopin: Valse brillante in A-flat Major, Opus 34, No. 2 

Max von Weinzierl: Nachtstuck für 4 Violen, Opus 34 

Ludwig von Beethoven: Trio in C Major, Opus 87 — Adagio 

Jean-Pierre Peuvion: From the diary of a fly for three violas (Bela Bartok) 

Hendrik Waelput: Andante cantabile for 4 violas 

York Bowen: Fantasia for 4 violas in E Minor, Opus 41, No. 1 

Joseph Jongen: Deux pièces pour 4 altos: Légende et Danses 

Noémie Alriau-Gauguier: Viola 

Camille Coelo: Viola 

Ruixin Niu: Viola 

Pierre-Henri Xuereb: Viola 

In France, June 21 has been known not only as the date of the summer solstice, but also as the date of the Fête de la musique since 1982 owing to the initiative of Jack Lang, the indefatigable minister of Culture back then, and Maurice Fleuret, his equally ambitious director of music, whose simple but bold idea was to have all kinds of music played in all kinds of places on the longest day and the shortest night of the year. Other countries soon followed suit, and before long, many cities in many countries celebrated World Music Day. 

In Dieulefit, while reviewing the various options, I immediately noticed an all-viola concert involving no less than four violists spanning four generations. Moreover, it was organized by the two mighty local forces that are Comps Historique and Pradel Association, which is always a good sign, and would take place in the stunning little Romanesque church in nearby Comps at the totally civilized time of 7:00 PM. What more could we ask for? Well, slightly lower temperatures would have been nice, but we were not going to let heat wave hysteria spoil our fun anyway. 

When D-Day came around, it started very early for me as an impertinent bird insisted on serenading me outside my window starting at about 4:00 AM, maybe to make sure I would make the most of that special day. And I did. After a busy morning helping my mom with her never-ending move (Two years and counting) and a relaxed afternoon prudently spent indoors, we resolutely made our way to the wind-swept hill on which the church still proudly stood to join some friends and other music lovers for the sold-out performance. 

We started our foray into the interestingly esoteric program in Venice, Italy, of all places, with “Canzon a quattro”, a short but lovely Baroque composition by Lodovico Beretta, before jumping forward a few centuries and becoming fast acquainted with the definitely more modern vibes of “Canzon’s Adventure” by contemporary Chinese composer Sheng Song. Contrasts seemed to be the name of the game, and we were totally into it. 

Next, we entered much more familiar territory with a viola version of Frédéric Chopin’s Valse brillante in A-flat Major, which gave us an opportunity to happily bask in 19th-century French Romanticism. Same period, same genre, but different locale, Austrian Max von Weinzierl’s Nachtstuck für 4 Violen, Opus 34, stood out for its length and complexity, engaging lyricism and genuine warmth. In fact, a bird apparently nesting in the church’s dome (Or was it my morning suitor that was stalking me?) was not even able to refrain from loudly expressing his whole-hearted approval. 

A small detour to Germany one century earlier brought us to Ludwig von Beethoven, who obviously needed no introduction. The viola version of the Adagio from his Trio in C Major, Opus 87, originally written for two oboes and an English horn, proved again the timeless appeal of masterworks, even with the smaller ensemble of three violas. 

In the 20th century, Hungarian composer Bela Bartok came up with Mikrokosmos, a vast collection of exercises for piano that increase in difficulty as the student progresses. On Sunday, we heard Jean-Pierre Peuvion’s version of “From the diary of a fly”, which was eerily evocative of the restless movements and non-stop energy of a fly. The unfazed musicians overcame the challenge deftly, which was no small feat considering that they had to put up with heat and… flies. 

We went back to the 19th century for a quick but very pleasant Andante Cantabile for 4 violas by Flemish composer, conductor and educator Hendrik Waelput, before moving to early 20th-century English composer, pianist and viola lover York Bowen and his Fantasia for 4 violas in E Minor, Opus 41, No. 1. Written specifically for four violas, it turned out to be delightfully eclectic, highly interactive, and all-around very exciting, and was rightfully a big hit. 

The performance wrapped up with a resounding bang thanks to not one but two pieces by Joseph Jongen, a 20th-century Belgian organist, pianist, composer, conductor, educator and, last but not least, César Franck’s student, a student who, according to Pierre-Henri Xuereb, eventually surpassed the master in talent, but, unfairly enough, not fame. It would have been hard for us to argue as we listened to his two pieces for 4 violas, “Legend” and “Dances”, which the four violists played with blazing virtuosity and infectious enthusiasm. 

So much so, in fact, that for the loudly requested encore, the fired-up ensemble treated us to the last bars of the joyful “Dances” number again, which instantaneously lifted our spirits up again. Even better, as we were stepping outside, a slightly refreshing breeze was welcoming us back to summertime reality.

Ensemble Vocal Altaïr & Quatuor Grazioso - Magnificat - 06/13/26

Johann Pachelbel: Canon in D Major 

Francesco Durante: Magnificat 

Domenico Scarlatti: Magnificat 

Antonio Vivaldi: Et exulta vit 

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach: Quia respexit 

John Rutter: Quia fecit 

John Rutter: Et misericordia 

Johann Sebastian Bach: Et misericordia 

Alessandro Scarlatti: Fecit potentiam 

Alessandro Scarlatti: Deposuit 

Antonio Vivaldi: Deposuit 

Antonio Vivaldi: Esurientes 

John Rutter: Esurientes 

Francesco Durante: Gloria and Sicut erat 

Music Director and conductor: Isabelle Fallot 

Until last Saturday evening, it had been an awfully long time since I had listened to any kind—let alone my kind—of live music at all, and while enjoying countless historic, artistic and culinary marvels, as well as the occasional company of dear friends, at various stops between Naples and Aix-en-Provence had kept me happily busy, it had not quite made up for the steadily growing frustration. In fact, I almost felt that the otherwise truly lovely city of Verona was making a point of mercilessly teasing me as I was watching its famous arena getting ready for its equally famous summer opera festival while (admittedly) indulging in la dolce vita at a cafe on its sprawling piazza Bra. 

Fast-forward a couple of weeks ago. As I was perusing the local upcoming events advertised on various boards scattered in Dieulefit, where I am visiting my mom, I excitedly noticed a flyer advertising a concert dedicated to the Magnificat canticle, also known as the “Song of Mary” or “Canticle of Mary”, in the town’s Protestant temple. Granted, it would start at the ungodly time of 9:00 PM, but then again, it was really close by, and beggars cannot be choosers anyway. On top of it, the concert would also be an opportunity for me to check out its interior, which is usually off-limits. 

In the end, I had the chance to take a peek the day before the concert as it was open for the rehearsal. Although it was kind of predictable, I was still taken aback by its resolute bareness, especially after the extravagant glamour I am used to in Italian catholic churches. But I also figured that it would encourage the audience to focus on the music and nothing else, which was a good thing. When one has the good fortune of being in the presence of local favorites Ensemble Vocal Altaïr and Quatuor Grazioso, the least one can do is pay attention to them. 

My mom has been complaining about the cavernous space’s poor acoustics ever since she started attending concerts there, about a quarter of a century ago, and while it did not take me long to realize that she was not wrong, the temple’s convenient location, appropriate size and welcoming atmosphere nevertheless made it a more than acceptable venue for performances. Even better, early birds get to catch not a worm, but a soft cushion that will help them put up with the benches’ hard surface. And that’s just what we did before grabbing prime spots among neighbors and friends. 

 The concert unexpectedly started with an exquisite performance of Johann Pachelbel’s beloved Canon in D Major by Quatuor Grazioso. Although Pachelbel’s biggest hit by far originally appeared half-way in the original written program, the last-minute change quickly proved to be a smart move since it enabled the singers to walk from the back of the temple to the stage down each side aisle to the sound of this classic among classics. All that was missing was a bride walking down an aisle as well! 

Such an otherworldly beautiful introduction was always going to be a tough act to follow, but the Altaïr ensemble led by its intrepid music director Isabelle Fallot went right down to business, after a short introduction by the maestra herself, which was unfortunately hard to decipher due to the microphone and some dreadful resonance. But it did not matter. We were there for the music, and we were about to get a very satisfying dose of it. 

Curated with utmost care and performed with infectious enthusiasm, the intermission-free set of various excerpts from various versions of the Magnificat, all coming to us from different epochs and countries, ended up being not only a real treat to the ears, but a fascinating comparative study as well. To me, the most interesting case was probably the “Et misericordia” aria, whose highly refined Baroque German version by Johann Sebastian Bach proudly stood up to the more muscular modern English take by John Rutter. 

I was also looking forward to hearing Isabelle Fallot who, besides busily fulfilling the job of the choir’s leader, wears many other distinguished hats, including the one of accomplished soprano. And sure enough, her solo in Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s “Quia respexit” and her duo with another talented woman singer for Antonio Vivaldi’s “Esurientes” turned out to be undisputed highlights of an evening that counted many. 

We had been asked to refrain from clapping between the numbers and we had dutifully kept quiet, but once the concert had gone full circle with Francesco Durante, who had opened the singing part of the program with an uplifting “Magnificat” and closed it with a no-holds-barred “Gloria and Sicut erat”, we were not ready to let the artists go just yet and loudly let them know. So, they treated us to a delightful voice version of Pachelbel’s Canon, which did not quite turn into the sing-along Fallot was hoping for, but still wrapped up this enchanted musical evening on a festive note.

Silvia Borghese & Sofia Donato - Mozart, Schubert & Brahms - 04/17/26

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Violin Sonata in G Major, K.301/293a 

Franz Schubert: Violin Sonata No. 4 in A Major, Op. posth. 162, D 574 (Grand Duo) 

Johannes Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 108 

Silvia Borghese: Violin 

Sofia Donato: Piano 

After a reasonably music-filled winter in Rome, I moved to Naples with no specific plan, except enjoying its unique landmarks, famous sunshine and fabulous cuisine, and leaving the rest to chance. And sure enough, a few days after my arrival I noticed an advertisement for classical music concerts while walking by the Teatro Diana, one of the Vomero neighborhood’s most popular live theater venues, which occasionally branches out and offers live music performances. 

The chamber music concert on April 17, in particular, caught my attention with the photo of two lovely young ladies, a predictable but still appealing program featuring Mozart, Schubert and Brahms, and a 5:30 PM starting time (Yes!!!). After all, there’s nothing wrong about going back to the core repertoire once in a while, never mind that I had already lingered there pretty much all winter. So, I got tickets for my friend Vittorio and me, and I started counting down the days. 

And then, on Friday morning, as we were looking forward to the concert later on, all hell broke loose, or at least our plans were slightly derailed, when Vittorio went to the hospital for routine prep tests before his operation the following Wednesday and was told he had to stay there if he did not want to lose his place in line (oh, and the hospital gets a per diem subsidy for each bed occupied too). 

I therefore ended up taking the pleasant walk to the Teatro Diana by myself, a bit frazzled by my unexpectedly hectic day, and happy to take a break between work commitments, trips to the hospital and various errands. Once I had arrived, I discovered that the theater was a nondescript medium-size space boasting a modern design and red color scheme, and that the crowd consisted of long-time regulars of a certain age who made me feel like I belonged to the youngest demographics in the room, which never fails to cheer me up. 

The concert started with Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s light-hearted Violin Sonata in G Major, K.301/293a, a youthful composition that the equally young duo handled with ease. Clocking at barely 15 minutes, it went by so breezily that, at the end, it took the audience a couple of seconds to grasp that it was indeed over. By then, I had also realized that I had unknowingly bought tickets for seats deep under the balcony and that the theater’s acoustics were decent but not particularly flattering. Consequently, I give the musicians a lot of credit for sounding as good as they did from where I sat. 

Next, Franz Schubert’s beautifully lyrical Violin Sonata No. 4 in A Major showed us a promising composer coming into his own while still relentlessly honing his craft. Compared to his previous efforts, this substantial work displayed more complexity and exuded more confidence; it also incidentally confirmed the impressive skills and effortless compatibility of Borghese and Donato. 

And since there’s no stopping the young and talented, the intrepid pair moved on to Johannes Brahms’ Violin Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 108 after a surprisingly short pause. Fact is, I will always have a special place in my heart for grumpy old Brahms, and on Friday evening, it sounded like most of the audience felt the same way according to the rapturous applause that spontaneously erupted after the stunning first movement. And who could possibly argue with that? 

His third and last violin sonata is a highly emotional affair that uncharacteristically aims straight for the heart. Brahms was at the top of his game when he composed it, and by leveraging his acquired experience and his innate perfectionism, he came up with a carefully crafted and intensely dramatic piece, in which the two quieter middle movements are book-ended by unapologetically large-scale ones. The two ladies did not let the challenging nature of the task at hand intimidate them though, and they enthusiastically delivered a riveting performance of it. 

In fact, this last work on the program was such an all-around success that the literally unstoppable duo treated us to the thrillingly kaleidoscopic last movement one more time as an encore, which was the perfect way to wrap up a manic Friday and get ready for a more relaxing weekend.

Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Brahms & Dvorak - 03/14/26

Johannes Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat Major, Opus 83 

Antonin Dvorak: Symphony No. 7 in D Minor, Opus 70 

Conductor: Daniel Harding 

Piano: Daniil Trifonov 

Life has been good for classical music lovers in Rome lately, as one week after Chinese fearless maverick Yuja Wang’s dynamite performance, the unflappable Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia was getting ready for Russian old soul Daniil Trifonov, who was going to tackle no less than Brahms’ epic Piano Concerto No. 2. The occasion would also incidentally be a very exciting wrap-up of my attendance at the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone since my Roman stay is slowly coming to an end. 

But then all hell kind of broke loose earlier in the week, when I had to give up my original plan (and the good seat that was going with it) to attend the Thursday night concert due to a frustrating combination of temporary lower back pain and truly apocalyptic weather. Add to that the exasperating finickiness of TicketOne’s website when I tried to buy another ticket on Friday (the 13th!) for the Saturday evening concert, and it is easy to see why just getting to the packed Sala Santa Cecilia in relatively good shape and in mild weather—and with a hard-earned digital ticket—already felt like a small victory of sorts even before the music began. 

While I confess that I have always been partial to the youthful élan and intense drama of his Piano Concerto No. 1, I will also readily admit that Johannes Brahms’ Piano Concerto Ni. 2, which he completed 22 years after the first one, shows the kind of complexity, breadth and poise that can only come with experience. On Saturday evening, Trifonov handled the sprawling piece with utmost knowledge and commitment, knowing exactly when to let blazing virtuosic sparks fly off and when to exercise an eloquent restraint, and delivered an awe-inspiring performance. 

While the entire journey was magnificent, I must single out the stunning Andante, whose gorgeous theme by the cello first discreetly loomed in exquisite simplicity before slowly leisurely coming into full bloom with a little help from the piano and its splendid ornamental flourishes. This was the undisputed highlight of the evening, the kind of extraordinary moment that feels suspended in time and leaves one at a loss for words once back to reality, not only for me but also for many others considering the eventual thunderous round of applause dedicated to solo cellist Luigi Piovano. 

Amazingly enough, even after this marathon, and with quite a bit of insistence on our part, Trifonov came back with a thoughtfully introspective encore that shall regrettably remain unknown to me. 

After intermission, the originally packed concert hall showed a few empty seats, including the woman to my left, who had clearly come for Trifonov and apparently figured that things could not get any better. In fact, they did not, but then again, how could they? I cannot say that I am a die-hard Dvorak fan, but I am happy I stayed for his Symphony No. 7, which turned out to be a very pleasant tribute to Czech music, not to mention that having a work by Brahms’ number one fan, mentee and friend kind of made sense at this point. The orchestra responded very well to their newish music director—and conductor for the evening—Daniel Harding, and their energized performance of the richly colorful score put a satisfying end to my Roman music season.

Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Debussy, Barber & Prokofiev - 03/07/26

Claude Debussy: La mer 

Samuel Barber: Piano Concerto, Opus 38 

Sergei Prokofiev: Piano Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, Opus 16 

Conductor: Eric Jacobsen 

Piano and conductor: Yuja Wang 

Superstar pianist Yuja Wang is one of those musicians that I simply cannot miss whenever they come around my neck of the woods, so I was understandably thrilled when I noticed that she would be joining the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome’s Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone last week, while I was still living a few-minute walk from it. And although I did not even particularly care what she would be playing, I was ecstatically happy to find out that it would be a composition by Prokofiev and eagerly planned to resuming my early Saturday evening residency with the orchestra. 

And then last week, on the appointed day and time, an unknown gentleman came onto the stage with a mike, which rarely spells good news. And sure enough, he started by telling us that Wang had woken up with a 39-degree fever that morning, which prompted a collective murmur of concern throughout the concert hall, although it was not entirely clear if the audience was more worried about her compromised well-being or her possible absence from the stage. However, before we got to dwell on it, he went on and said that Wang, being the ultimate professional in addition to a genuinely generous person, would be playing after all, and he just wanted to thank her publicly. Whew! 

He also let us know that the order of the program, which had already been changed a few weeks earlier due to the original conductor’s illness and now included a work by Barber, had been shuffled so that she would have more time to prepare, which was fair enough with us as long as we got to hear our girl. 

So our concert started with La Mer by Claude Debussy, who called it “three symphonic sketches” and adamantly refused to describe it as “impressionistic”, a term that he whole-heartedly scorned, but pretty much everybody else agreed on. In any case, the work is a wonderful evocation of the ever-changing nature of the sea by a composer who was deeply in love with it, never mind that he was getting his inspiration mostly from paintings. On Saturday night, the large orchestra delivered a particularly soulful, delicately contrasting interpretation under the precise baton of Eric Jacobsen, a face I recognized from The Knights and Brooklyn Riders back in New York City. Ah, memories… 

But let’s face it, we were all there to see and hear Yuja Wang, and the packed audience went bonkers when she finally appeared, her petite silhouette complete with her signature impeccable bob cut, tight-fitting white mini-dress and vertiginously high Louboutin shoes. She did not let the rock star welcome get to her head though, and while she may have slightly teetered on her way to the piano (Who would not on those heels?), there was no question that she was in complete possession of herself once she had gotten situated in front of the keyboard and down to business. 

I had never heard Samuel Barber’s reputedly thorny Piano Concerto, Op. 38 before, and I obviously could not have dreamed of better company for my first encounter with it. The heroic duel between the fearless solo piano and the powerful large orchestra was a loud, occasionally uneasy, affair, but warmth and lyricism were never far beneath the rough surface. And there was of course plenty of acrobatic virtuosity flying from pianist’s hands, on which I happened to have a direct view. Feverish or not, the irrepressible miss Wang was hot, hot, hot! 

After intermission, Wang came back wearing a tight-fitting red dress as well as the double hat of soloist and conductor since Jacobsen, who had gamely filled in for the ailing Teodor Currentzis until then, was not familiar with the piece, but she serendipitously was. That said, aside from the all-important downbeat and a few fleeting moments, she never got around to conducting that much anyway as she kept incredibly busy dealing with Sergei Prokofiev’s formidable Piano Concerto No. 2, so formidable, in fact, that even Martha Argerich would not dare to give it a try. 

But then again, there are probably very few things that Wang and her well-known penchant for making the impossible possible would not dare to give a try to, and Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 2 is not one of them, which was very fortunate for us. The technically brilliant performance was also an absolute blast, proving one more time that bold modernity and unabashed fun are not mutually exclusive. In Wang’s magical hands, the music came out exceptionally bold and playful, grotesque and romantic, exacting and colorful. And the ovation was thunderous. Again. 

After such an intensely satisfying evening, we would have all been happy to call it a night. But the unstoppable dynamo who once treated the stunned audience to seven encores at Carnegie Hall had another plan for us, poor health be damned. She eventually came back for three encores, including a devilishly irresistible Precipitato from Prokofiev’s Sonata n. 7. In the end, as we were all walking down the stairs on our way out, I could overhear a woman behind me raving non-stop to her friend about Wang’s “bravura” and “virtuosità”, and I could not have agreed more.

Quatuor Ébène - All-Beethoven - 03/04/26

Ludwig van Beethoven: String Quartet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 18, No. 2 

Ludwig van Beethoven: String Quartet No. 16 in F Major, Op. 135 

Ludwig van Beethoven: String Quartet No. 14 in C-sharp Minor, Op. 131 

One of the very few advantages of getting older is to be able to look back and reflect (Moreover, let’s face it, looking forward is kind of depressing these days). And that’s exactly what I was doing last Wednesday night in the medium-sized Sala Sinapoli of the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone as I was eagerly waiting for the all-French Quatuor Ébène to appear. I unfortunately could not attend their January concert due to a mild but ill-timed cold, and the time had finally come for me to make up for the missed opportunity. 

So there I finally was, fondly remembering hearing them for the first time at the Library of Congress, which was pretty much in my backyard back in 2009. Although they had already been generating an impressive buzz closer to home, they were kind of new on the international classical music scene, but not for long. Their splendid performance of quartets by Ravel, Fauré and Debussy, wrapped up with an a cappella version of “Un jour mon prince viendra” (One day my prince will come) from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Yes, Disney’s animated movie) left no doubt. They had arrived, and they would go much further. 

Almost two decades, a couple of personnel changes, and several encounters on both sides of the pond later, I saw two of those same musicians, who are now accompanied by two newer members, come onto the stage and I felt a kind of motherly pride that I did not even know I had in me. I guess it is one of those things you don’t even know you have until you suddenly experience it. 

Even better, last Wednesday night’s concert was one stop of their ambitious “Beethoven 2027” project, through which they will play all of Beethoven’s quartets, and not just any stop either since that one would feature the Opus 131 and the Opus 135, two dazzling masterpieces among the extraordinary six-packs that are his Late Quartets. So who cared of the performance started at the ungodly time of 8:30 PM?

The concert started with Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 2, a youthful piece that the composer wrote when he was barely in his thirties. While it is understandably not of the same caliber as his later works, it was still a very pleasant way to ease ensemble and audience into our Beethovenian evening. This lively homage to his beloved teacher Joseph Haydn overflows with humor and witticism, and the four musicians did an excellent job at conveying its carefree insouciance while warming up for the bigger and better things to come. 

We then fast-forwarded about three decades to his Opus 135, which is the shortest of his Late Quartets as well as the last major composition he completed. It is also, as far as I am concerned, the most stunning of them all, a priceless gift that keeps on relentlessly giving under its deceptively simple package, the countless gifts including an exquisite slow movement and the famous “difficult resolution”. The Quatuor Ébène brought it to life with all the fire and grace it so richly deserved, and just like the group of French attendees I heard comparing notes later on, I thought this was the best performance of the evening. 

After intermission, it was time to move on to the epic tour de force that is the Opus 131, a terrifying challenge that essentially consists in playing its seven movements without an actual pause over the course of about 40 minutes. This means that the musicians need to have not only superior technique and unwavering stamina, but also good reflexes and endless flexibility in case their much put-upon instruments decide to do their own thing. That said, when you have the right ensemble, you can just sit back, relax, and marvel, like the entire audience did on Wednesday night. Schubert and Schumann were allegedly in awe of that ground-breaking quartet, which is as good a stamp of approval as any. On Wednesday night, we all were too.

Teatro di San Carlo - Verdi - 02/28/26

Giuseppe Verdi: Messa da Requiem 

Conductor: Nicola Luisotti 

Choir Master: Fabrizio Cassi 

Pene Pati: Tenor 

Caterina Piva: Mezzo-Soprano 

John Relyea: Bass 

Pretty Yende: Soprano 

Any excuse for a little excursion out of town is a good one, and attending a performance of Verdi’s magnificent Requiem in Naples’ magnificent Teatro di San Carlo is certainly a better one than most. Add to that the presence of South-African soprano Pretty Yende, whose much lauded talent I had never gotten a chance to check out before (not for lack of trying though), and I grabbed some tickets for my Neapolitan friend Vittorio and me as soon as they went on sale last year. 

After an uneventful trip and timely arrival under the Parthenopean City’s famed bright sunshine last Thursday afternoon, things went somewhat downhill with a dreadful combination of overcast skies, low temperatures, and a temporarily out-of-service heater, but things perked up again on Saturday evening with a delicious sfogiatella and a delectable performance in downtown Naples, where we eventually showed up reasonably scrubbed, adequately fed and fully ready at the totally civilized time if 19:00 PM.

Once we had happily settled in the first row of our premium box—Never mind the little space for the knees before us and the invasion of French tourists behind us—we watched the spacious stage gradually fill up with the large orchestra, who were later joined by the equally sizable choir, the four soloists, and the conductor Nicola Luisotti. In the end, the space was unusually crowded, but it also was a real treat to see the faces of the musicians that we by default hear, but not see, when we attend an opera there. 

Fact is, the impressive number of performers felt more than justified when, in due time, the thunderous Dies Irae movement repeatedly took the entire audience by storm with irrepressible force and remarkable focus. Verdi obviously wanted to make sure that this Day of Wrath would not be denied or avoided, and I, for one, can never get enough of it. And sure enough, on Saturday evening, the brilliant Teatro San Carlo’s orchestra and choir unleashed their take-no-prisoners power and announced the upcoming biblical destruction with all the terrified intensity it deserved every single time. 

The rest of the performance went swimmingly too. The composition’s operatic grandeur and emotional intimacy were beautifully conveyed through gorgeous—Dare I say “divine”?—melodies and dramatically shifting rhythms that were commendably handled by musicians and singers. The choir demonstrated a strikingly unified front, the four soloists fulfilled their substantial parts with admirable technique and commitment, with Miss Yende effortlessly meeting my sky-high expectations, and the orchestra, for which Verdi has to be an old friend, kept everything going with predictable expertise and efficiency. 

 That was a prime example of the kind of dazzling accomplishment impeccably timed teamwork can create (Grazie, maestro Luisotti!), and the memorable experience made dealing with the rowdy Saturday night crowds totally worth it.

Orchestra e Coro dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Fauré & Ravel - 02/14/26

Gabriel Fauré: Pavane in F-sharp Minor, Op. 50 

Gabriel Fauré: Requiem in D Minor, Op. 48 

Maurice Ravel: Shéhérazade, Op. 41 

Maurice Ravel: La valse 

Conductor: Alexander Soddy 

Soprano: Golda Schultz 

Baritone: Mikhail Timoshenko 

After having unexpectedly strayed from my regular schedule the previous week, it was wonderfully comforting to resume my routine with the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia and return to the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone last Saturday evening at 6:00 PM. And not just for any program either as last week’s line-up featured Gabriel Fauré et Maurice Ravel, two remarkable French composers who embody the relatively challenging transition from the 19th century to the 20th century with their own innovative spirits and common sense of refinement. 

So, in the end, that Valentine’s Day, which started with low skies and fierce showers, slowly but surely got better with a fabulous breakfast with friends, the consolidation of exciting travel plans, an engaging visit to the ever-interesting MAXXI museum—Never mind that the free entrance offer had brought hordes of people who stubbornly stuck around even during lunch time—before wrapping up with an early concert celebrating French culture. I could not have asked for much more.

The performance started with one of Fauré’s shortest and most beloved works in Pavane, an amuse-bouche that immediately assured us that orchestra and chorus were in excellent shape. It just as quickly demonstrated that the occupants of the entire section I was sitting in would not be able to see the screen above the stage due to the sizable smorgasbord of lighting, recording and acoustic equipment hanging from the ceiling (sigh). 

At least the frustratingly obstructed view was not an issue for Fauré’s Requiem since it is a well-known piece whose content is predictable anyway. Let’s not forget, however, that Fauré made sure to put his own personal touch to the Latin mass, which essentially consisted in taking out the dark side of death, including the terror usually felt when facing the unknown, and focus on the original meaning of the word “requiem”, which is “rest”, instead. Therefore, his after-life journey is all about eternal hope, peaceful acceptance and sweet comfort, the exquisite music bringing solace and serenity to the inevitable proceedings. 

And I must confess that not having the lyrics to follow made me appreciate the musicians and singers even more. Most particularly, the uniformly superb chorus dealt with its multi-layered parts with savviness and sensitivity, while Juilliard-trained and Berlin-based South African soprano Golda Schultz was simply extraordinary as she deftly unfolded the soaring melody of the “Pie Jesu” aria. As the performance was constantly reaching for new heights, one could easily imagine cherubic angels scattered around the auditorium attentively listening and readily approving.

After intermission, we jumped ahead a few decades and found ourselves in the mysterious world of the Far East of Ravel’s Shéhérazade, his exotic symphonic poem for voice and orchestra, featuring Schultz again. Although her contribution was much more significant in this piece, she had the vivacious orchestra to contend with this time, and consequently the whole experience of hearing her sing, while still supremely enjoyable, was less uplifting. Truth be told, as far as I am concerned, when it comes to Scheherazade, Rimski-Korsakov’s version is the one to beat, and it hasn’t happened yet. 

After leisurely basking in Ravel’s pining for far-away wonderlands, we were jolted back to reality by the overwhelming intensity of his ground-breaking La valse. Originally conceived as a ballet score and described by Ravel himself as a “choreographic poem for orchestra”, the boldly inventive tribute to the traditional waltz exuded the timeless elegance of the Old World while repeatedly getting dangerously close to the edge of the dark abyss that is the Modern World. And that’s how our French soirée ended with the resounding final blast of this thrillingly intoxicating, resolutely forward-looking wild ride.

 

Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Elgar & Tchaikovsky - 02/06/26

Edward Elgar: Cello Concerto in E Minor, Op. 85 

Pyotr Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 5 in E Minor, Op. 64 

Conductor: Lorenzo Viotti 

Cello: Ettore Pagano 

Almost two weeks after going to the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone for a fabulous Rach 3 that still resonates in my ecstatic ears, I was back in the Sala Santa Cecilia last Friday evening at the ungodly hour of 8:00 PM instead of my usual Saturday evening 6:00 PM performance, but then, I had only myself to blame. I had been mindlessly dilly-dallying, never mind the countless advertisements about the concert all over the city and the constant sight of the three beetle-shaped concert halls from my windows, and all the reasonably priced tickets for Saturday were sold out by the time I decided to just go ahead and buy one already. 

In fact, a quick look at the rest of the Parco della Musica’s cultural season showed me that, if some potential audience members had been a bit hesitant about committing to supporting the performing arts in January, which meant that excellent seats were still available at the very last minute, they are now planning to go to whatever will be going on out there with a vengeance and buying tickets in droves accordingly, which is fantastic news for the venues and the artists, slightly less so for the procrastinators. 

As for me, I simply could not resist the perspective of hearing Edward Elgar’s Cello Concerto featuring Ettore Pagano, the inordinately young, gifted and fast-rising Roman cellist who would be boldly filling in for an ailing Sheku Kanneh-Mason, or Pyotr Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5, both conducted by Lorenzo Viotti, the slightly-older-but-still-young Swiss-born maestro who takes eclecticism to another level by also indiscriminately dabbing in funk, jazz and death metal as a percussionist. 

There are few sounds that I find as darkly gorgeous as the ones produced by the cello, but the fact is, the cello repertoire being rather limited, the occasions to hear them outside an orchestra are unfortunately few and far between. So I was particularly grateful for the opportunity to discover a cello-centric piece I had never heard before, and not just any piece since it had been written by the esteemed early 20th-century English composer Edward Elgar, whose world-famous "Nimrod" is routinely heard in concert halls all over the world as well as during all kinds of ceremonies in England. 

And sure enough, his Cello Concerto in E Minor, Op. 85, an established staple of Late Romanticism, grabbed my attention from the very first notes, which turned out to be a poignant recitative from the solo cellist. Even after the other instruments had joined in, they all made sure to preserve intimacy and soberness while Pagano masterfully conveyed the understated yet inescapable bitter-sweetness of watching a familiar world disappear forever before one’s eyes. Clocking in at about half an hour, the concerto was not very long, but its impact was still felt after the music stopped. 

It took a certain amount of convincing, but our young prodigy eventually heeded our persistent applause and came back for a starkly beautiful Sarabande that, to me at least, even surpassed the concerto. Bravissimo! 

And then we all happily switched gears after intermission and plunged head-first into Tchaikovsky’s intensely dramatic Symphony No. 5, shamelessly relishing the privilege of basking in a voluptuous ocean of hard-core schmalz for the second half of the evening. The consistently brilliant orchestra sounded even more revved-up than usual under the particularly involved baton of maestro Viotti, who ended up having quite a breathless work-out on his stand, and delivered a thrilling account of the magnificent score. I hadn’t heard the symphony live in a long time, and that exciting performance, with its sweeping waves of passion and its quiet interludes of introspection, reminded me why I fell in love with Tchaikovsky—and by extension classical music—in the first place, and why our relationship is as burning hot as ever.

Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia - Rachmaninoff & Bartok - 01/24/26

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

Bela Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra, Sz.116, BB 123 

Conductor: Juraj Valcuha 

Piano: Behzod Abduraimov 

Exactly two weeks and one fleeting cold after going to the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone with my visiting friend Vittorio for Tchaikovsky’s fabulous Piano Concerto No. 1, I was back, alone this time, for Rachmaninoff’s equally fabulous Piano Concerto No. 3 last Saturday evening. Unsurprisingly, the Sala Santa Cecilia was just as packed and buzzing with excitement as the previous time. Another irrefutable proof that if you program beloved warhorses, they will come. 

Last Saturday night’s record attendance was all the more remarkable as Slovak conductor Juraj Valčuha and Uzbek pianist Behzod Abduraimov, while well-known and respected in their fields, are not quite established household names yet. On the other hand, the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia has a pristine reputation and a simple mention of the monumental Rach 3 rarely fails to set aflutter the hearts of classical music aficionados, and others too (No offense to Bartok, whose work I was looking forward to discovering as well). So nobody had to twist any concert-goer's arms to show up, even on a cold and wet Saturday evening.

When it comes to their opening notes, Tchaikovsky’s and Rachmaninoff’s works could not be more different: The former is blatantly attention-grabbing while the second is deceptively subdued, almost apprehensive of where it is going. That said, on Saturday night, Abduraimov knew exactly how to proceed, and he took us there with impressive dexterity and confidence. Not only did he readily overcome the score’s countless daunting technical challenges, but he also brilliantly conveyed its lyrical beauty, emotional depth, and pervasive sense of mystery. 

At about 40 minutes, the composition is not overly long, but it is relentlessly demanding. Bringing it to life therefore requires constant concentration and unwavering stamina, both of which Abduraimov obviously has in spades. He almost made his commanding performance look effortless, and he certainly made it sound thrilling for all of us, as the stunned silence filling the concert hall during its entire duration could attest. 

After wrapping up such a flawless tour de force, he would have been forgiven for just basking in the thunderous applause and call it a night. But no, he had more in store for us, and he eventually sat back down at the piano to treat us to an equally virtuosic take on Franz Liszt’s delightful Campanella, the third of his six Grandes études de Paganini, S. 141. 

After intermission, everybody was back in their seats for Bela Bartok’s unquestionably pleasant yet rather conventional by his standards Concerto for Orchestra, but our hearts may not have been into it as much as the perfectly respectable work and admittedly wonderful performance deserved. For a lot of us, our evening had already been made with the mind-blowing experience that had been Rach 3, and there was quite a bit of comment exchanging, body shifting and phone checking in the audience during the second part of the program. But then again, the power of music eventually prevailed, and we all gratefully took it in.