Patricia Kopatchinskaja: 2025/26 LSO Artist Portrait

‘I grew up with folk music. My parents played folk music all their lives. That’s the blood in my veins, but the air I breathe is contemporary music, so I have no problem at all with conveying the musical language of today.

It wasn’t necessarily my plan to become a violinist. I wanted to compose. But I guess the violin is my bread and composition the marmalade! Since I’ve had a bit more time between concerts, I’ve been writing again. That’s actually what I enjoy most, but it also drives me to despair much more often. It is extremely difficult to write a really good piece.’

The Concertos

‘Some of the most important violin concertos of the 20th century were written in the 1930s in a period of great instability and unrest – of growing fascism, nationalism and injustice. Many artists had to leave their homelands and found their inspiration and courage in that catastrophe. Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Berg, Schoenberg, Bartók, Hartmann … all were scattered around the world by the maelstrom of political events and were obviously drawn to the violin.

Berg’s Violin Concerto tells the story of the tragic death of Manon Gropius, daughter of Alma Mahler and Walter Gropius, but also of Berg’s personal tragedy – his own daughter Albine. A Carinthian song quoted in the concerto says, ‘A bird woke me up in the plum tree in Maria’s bed’. Maria was the name of the maid who often accompanied the family in summer in Carinthia, and she was the mother of Berg’s illegitimate daughter. It was kept secret for the rest of his life – but I can imagine the emotional pain of never seeing his child grow up.

In Bartók’s Second Violin Concerto you can hear the sound of the composer’s origins, his tremendous dedication to and love of folk music. The fairy-tale atmosphere of the second movement is one of the most touching moments. I think of my childhood and the voice of my grandmother. I hear in the harp the Hungarian cymbalom, my father’s instrument. At the beginning of the concerto, I hear the seductive, proud Hungarian dance, the verbunkos.

Márton Illés thinks in a fascinating and extraordinarily imaginative way. Playing and listening to his music is a real pleasure. It amuses and amazes and surprises again and again. The playing techniques he devises expand the instrumental palette and open up new horizons.

In terms of bringing the audiences with me on these more unfamiliar journeys, if something seems particularly complex, I try to untangle it like a knot and imagine that children are listening to me. But for me, music is not always just sound and structure. It is also staging, dramaturgy, stage sets, costumes, figures and characters. You have to evoke all the senses.

I see music like an ocean: it’s full of mysteries we will never understand. The only thing we can do is swim in it and love it. Whether it’s old or new music, it doesn’t matter to me. I am here and now, as are my musical partners and – most important – the listeners.’

Interview by Lucy Walker