More than 30 years ago, when I was studying at the European University Institute in Florence, I used to come often to concerts at Teatro della Pergola. Mostly because tickets were made available to EUI students — but also because the place itself seemed to insist that you stayed a little longer in the world of music than you perhaps intended. The other day I returned. This time with Jeanne and Vilhelm, and with a programme that felt almost too carefully composed to be accidental: Arvo Pärt’s Für Alina, Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie, Mozart’s Sonata K.404, another Pärt piece (Mozart-Adagio), Gija Kancheli’s Middelheim, and, after the break, Beethoven’s “Archduke” Trio. Performed by Gidon Kremer (violin), Giedrė Dirvanauskaitė (cello), and Georgijs Osokins (piano). It is a strange experience to return to a place where your younger self once sat, convinced that you were “taking it in,” only to realise how much of it you probably didn’t understand. I know this may be close to sacrilege — and forgive me, I plead my own lack of musicality — but I couldn’t help feeling that Gidon Kremer sounded a little… worn. Not in a dismissive sense, but almost as if the music had passed through him so many times that something had shifted. Less precision, perhaps. Or something else entirely. And yet, maybe that is the point. Because the evening was not really about technical perfection. It was about continuity. About sitting in the same theatre, decades apart, listening to the same repertoire, and realising that what changes is not the music, but the listener. Or perhaps both.

04/21/2026 10:52:15