Blog from the European Tour

05.03. Amsterdam, Concertgebouw

For a long 23 years, the Czech Philharmonic hadn’t played at the Concertgebouw—until now. And it shows. In Vienna or London, Czech musicians know exactly where to find their instrument cases in the backstage maze, which hallway leads to the right dressing room, and where to grab the nearest coffee. But this time, they’re a bit lost. Not on stage, though—there, everything is just as it should be. Shostakovich feels at home everywhere.

Here, however, it would be written as Sjostakovitsj, just like on the posters outside. Unlike the Haydns, Dvořáks, Bachs, and Mendelssohns, though, you won’t find his name engraved on the walls around the Grote Zaal. That’s because in 1888, when the first concert was played here, he hadn’t been born yet. The most eye-catching names are those of Röntgen, Dopper, Zweers, Wagenaar, Pijpee, Schuijt and so on, of which even native Dutchmen know little. It's like finding a bust of Jozef Richard Rozkošný in the Prague’s National Theatre. Only Deipenbrock was lucky enough to be friends with Mahler...

The acoustics of the magnificent Dutch hall are legendary. A quick Google search will turn up rapturous praise from famous conductors, architectural studies, popular science articles, and heated debates among audiophiles. They say that the Concertgebouworkest developed its signature velvety string sound precisely by rehearsing in this inspiring space—just as insiders claim that the refinement of the Czech Philharmonic’s woodwinds is shaped by the sound of the Rudolfinum.

And yet, during rehearsal, something hits you right in the ears. There’s just too much sound—every forte rolls over you like a wave. A local marketing manager explains that the empty hall has a reverberation time of 2.8 seconds. That’s why the Concertgebouworkest rehearses with a massive velvet curtain across the middle of the auditorium—though for a half-hour acoustic rehearsal, it’s not put up. No need to worry, he assures us. Once the audience arrives, the reverberation will drop to 2.2 seconds, and our ears will be at peace.

And he’s right. When two thousand people settle into a space the size of two Rudolfinums, the sound transforms completely—leaving the ears in shock once again. It’s like putting on glasses for the first time. A breathtaking experience that every classical music lover should have at least once. Even the applause sounds spectacular—especially the standing ovation from an audience that, by Czech standards, is strikingly young. Heel erg bedankt!

05.03. Amsterdam

"In the past, international promoters almost exclusively wanted us to play Czech music—they were reluctant to entrust us with anything else. But we thought it would be great if we remained the most authentic interpreters of Czech repertoire while also earning trust as a top-tier orchestra for international works. And I think we're succeeding quite well in that regard, which is what sets our current tours apart from previous ones," explains Robert Hanč, the General Manager and Artistic Director of the orchestra, who is responsible for the Czech Philharmonic's dramaturgy.

Under Bychkov, the orchestra has already made its mark with Tchaikovsky and continues to establish itself with Mahler. Recently, Thierry Escaich was performed alongside Bartók and Stravinsky in Budapest and Zagreb, while Bryce Dessner featured in Vienna and Bucharest. Now, it is time for a composer born in St. Petersburg, whose passing will mark 50 years this August. And according to Austrian critics, we’re doing quite well with Shostakovich.

“Bychkov managed to blend a touch of subtle bitterness into the beautiful sound.”

“The second movement, with its ironic exaggerations and seemingly playful spirit masking defiance and pain, came across as sophisticated in the Czech Philharmonic’s interpretation.”

“The orchestral sound can be delicate and refined, yet when needed, it transforms into the sharp, unmistakably Shostakovich-like expression, where bitter undertones resonate through forceful motifs.”

“In the Largo, Bychkov carefully shaped a sense of tragedy—shy, yet inevitably reaching outward—with great attention to detail.”

04.03. Vienna, Grinzinger Friedhof

In his book Verdi: A Novel of the Opera, Franz Werfel created a fascinating secondary character—the opera-loving Marquis Gritti. A centenarian, he attends the theater every evening without exception, carefully preserving programs, singer portraits, and rare artifacts as testaments to his passion. Convinced that strict discipline will allow him to live forever, his peculiar vitality inspires both awe and unease in those around him.

Though Prague-born Werfel set his novel in Venice, we’d wager he drew inspiration from Vienna as well, where he lived from the end of World War I and where he met his future wife, Alma Mahler. After all, the walls of the Musikverein and the State Opera still echo with the same musical fervor that once consumed Gritti.

Anyone sitting in the Golden Hall, settling into a small, creaky old seat, and looking toward the stage—where music has been performed at the highest artistic level for over 200 years—can’t help but feel this deep-rooted tradition.

Not only has little changed here, but even the smallest rituals endure: concertgoers walk past the same churches, on the same day, at the same hour; tickets are bought at the same box offices; people still jostle for standing-room spots and scramble toward ushers when unsold seats in the stalls become available. When Franz sat beside Alma, dreaming up his novel, he experienced much the same as we do today.

And he listened to the same music. Tonight, the Czech Philharmonic performed Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. It is now a staple of the symphonic repertoire, but when Gustav died, it was far from certain that his work would stand the test of time. It was thanks in no small part to Alma—both Gustav’s and Franz’s—that his legacy was tirelessly championed until her last days. That’s why we visited their graves in Vienna. Franz, sadly, rests elsewhere—there wasn’t time for him this trip. Next time.

Even the core message of Werfel’s novel remains strikingly relevant. Marquis Gritti adored only the “golden age of opera”—the old Neapolitan masters, Cimarosa, Zingarelli, and Gazzaniga, perhaps Bellini at most. But reformers like Wagner and Verdi? Enemies! He found their plots incomprehensible and dismissed their music as “confused noise.” To Gritti, opera was an art form meant to remain perfect, untouched by experiments that only composers and a handful of academics could appreciate.

Sound familiar?

03.03. Musikverin

Every good band has a hit, a smash, or at least an evegreen. Banger, Knaller, przebój, succès, sucesso, éxito, 名曲, 热门歌曲 či लोकप्रिय गीत. Something that everyone subconsciously knows, with a strong and memorable melody that pulls you in and makes you want to sing it over and over again. For example, the Czech Philharmonic has Mahler's Fifth Symphony.

Semyon Bychkov first conducted it for Prague’s subscription audience in 2021, and the response was so enthusiastic that we had to bring it back this season for subscribers in another series to enjoy as well.

Of course, a recording was made. Leading global critic Norman Lebrecht gave it a full rating, calling it proof that the orchestra, under its current Chief Conductor, is “setting the pace for Mahler recordings this decade.”

And so now we’re taking Mahler’s Fifth around the world. After New York and Toronto it’s coming with us to London and Paris. And just moments ago, it resounded in Vienna. You can probably guess how it was received. After all, it’s our hit!