At 77, Giant Violinist, Chung Kyung Wha once again stood at Carnegie Hall. This marked the culmination of her musical career. After a long career, a quiet flame and prayer resonated in the hearts of the enthusiastic audience gathered in the dry Stern Hall. There was no hesitation in the rise of each note, but the quiet determination and resolve that accompanied each note. It wasn't the fiery passion of her youth, but the power to burn like a quiet flame. The violin spoke of strength and kindness that transcend technique. Each time she drew her bow, the silence seemed to breathe, as if decades had passed. And after the sound faded, a prayer lingered. Kevin Kenner let each note speak as if it were a serene melody. Their breathing overlapped, creating a conversation through sound. Kenner added a soft glow to Chung's single note, and Chung responded to Kenner's silence with a prayerful echo—a dialogue that transcended.

Ksenia Sidorova gave her debut recital at Carnegie Hall's Weill Recital Hall on 11.5.2025. Almost the entire program was arranged by Ksenia and friends, overflowing with respect for the works, musicians, and friends. As a result, the pieces were deeply connected, and Sidorova's world transcended time and style, unfolding through the accordion.

The program encompassed a wide range of genres, from American minimalism to Bach and numerous folk pieces, imitating a variety of instruments and voices, including organ, folk instruments, orchestra, and voice. The final piece was Schnittke's polystylism, the opera of satire and humor.

At Carnegie Hall on October 31, 2025, The Philadelphia Orchestra with Emanuel Ax offered a luminous journey through Still, Beethoven, and Brahms—a concert where nature, spirit, and human expression intertwined. William Grant Still’s Wood Notes (1947), inspired by Shelby Steele’s nature poetry, shimmered with dialogue between instruments like rippling water, blending blues, jazz, and Romantic colors into warmth reminiscent of Dvořák and Sibelius. Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 followed—Ax’s 50th anniversary with the orchestra, and Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s birth year—bridging generations. Ax’s playing, breathing between each phrase, revealed Beethoven’s humanity with timeless tenderness, his cadenza rising to a Largo so intimate it brought tears. The finale’s laughter between violinist Kim and Yannick felt like Beethoven smiling from within. Ax’s encore, Schubert’s Serenade, was a whisper of love returned. After intermission, Brahms’s Symphony No. 4 unfolded as a spiritual heir to Bach’s Cantata No. 150, its sound rising and vanishing like mist. Yannick’s refined bass lines and luminous phrasing wove Still’s nature and Beethoven’s soul into Brahms’s deep serenity—a seamless celebration of Ax, Philadelphia, and the living continuum of music itself.

The Philharmonia’s 80th anniversary concert on 10.29.2025 opened with Gabriela Ortiz’s If Oxygen Were Green, a vivid 21st-century exploration of light, water, carbon dioxide, consonance, and dissonance. Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 followed, with Víkingur Ólafsson’s playful, defiant piano weaving through the orchestra, while principal cellist Tim Hugh and the basses created tender, whispering tones that blended woodwinds and strings in intimate dialogue. Under Santtu-Matias Rouvali, the orchestra breathed with distinct shapes, colors, and intentions, alternating freedom and discipline like a modern Beethoven. Sibelius’s Symphony No. 5 unfolded with microtonal patterns, off-beat syncopations, and evolving themes; bass and cello provided a living pulse, while horns, winds, and strings conversed with microscopic detail, merging human emotion and natural sublimity. The Andante mosso recalled Beethoven’s Ninth, the third movement rose like a creature shedding its skin, and the finale’s deep cello-flute resonance and bass drum strokes created a timeless, awe-filled silence. Over two days, the warmth of cello and double bass, especially in the Sibelius waltz encore, revealed the orchestra’s capacity to transform controlled technique into simple, joyful, Karajan-like radiance.

The Philharmonia Orchestra celebrated its 80th anniversary with a three-week US tour, culminating in its final performance at Carnegie Hall. It was a performance that captured the breath and heart trembling of their past. The lustre of the strings, the warm breath of the woodwinds, and the brilliance of the brass—the gentle light of old recordings—represented the love, death, and salvation of Romeo and Juliet. The loneliness beneath Prokofiev's brightness, particularly the momentary silence in the second movement, seemed to stand still. And then, Kantorow's Wagner/Liszt rendition of Tristan's Death of Love from Isolde, which released this loneliness, projected the light and shadow of the Philharmonia Orchestra's lifelong love and death, forever etched in the hearts of the audience.

Für Lennart in memoriam (2006) honors Lennart Meri, evoking light and sea; L’abbé Agathon (2004) portrays monk Agathon’s kind deeds; Stabat Mater (1985/2008) contrasts anguish and prayer through voices and strings; Magnificat (1989) modernizes polyphony with tintinnabuli; Te Deum (1985–2007) embodies sacred stillness by Estonian.

At Carnegie Hall on October 23, 2025, Paavo Järvi led the Estonian Festival Orchestra and Choir in a luminous celebration of Arvo Pärt’s 90th birthday—a journey through sound, silence, and faith. From the solemn bell of Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten to the turbulent energy of Perpetuum Mobile and the haunting redemption of La Sindone, each work revealed Pärt’s struggle for spiritual truth amid oppression. The choir’s unified cry in Adam’s Lament evoked humanity’s exile and hope, while Tabula Rasa, with Midori and Hans Christian Aavik, blazed with life before dissolving into sacred stillness. An encore of Passacaglia glowed with Brahms-like warmth, followed by the serene timelessness of Fratres and the cathartic faith of Credo. The evening ended in the gentle peace of Estonian Lullaby, affirming Pärt’s profound humanity—his art born not of profession, but of silence and soul.

The third day of the Israel Philharmonic's Carnegie Hall performance. Shani is truly fascinating. First of all, his conducting looks Barenbom. He plays the final, dragging note of Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony. The double bass is muted and plays the final note. The double bass stops. The orchestra's consciousness continues even after the sound has died down. The score specifies the length of the piece, and it ends with a fermata. He doesn't lower his baton. When Jeff, sitting next to me, applauds first, this memory becomes eternal. Shani is a conductor who unleashes everything in the concert. In one section, Shani did not time the Munich Philharmonic's principal cello, Thomas Ruge, and principal violin, Dumitru Pocitari, to enter simultaneously. Since they both enter at their own pace, the individuality of the cello and violin sections, each carrying the main melody, is highlighted. Shani's conducting brings out the artistry of each performer and unlocks unknown possibilities. Even when they are not synchronized, their individual voices eventually become a dialogue, overflowing with a single, powerful energy.

The Israel Philharmonic Orchestra and Lahav Shani’s second Carnegie Hall concert on October 16, 2025, opened with Bernstein’s Halil (1981), a haunting memorial to a young flutist killed in war. Principal flutist Guy Eshed’s faint singing and scraping sounds intensified the music’s atonal and tonal shifts, evoking Hindemith, Berg, and postwar American composers, blending menace, hope, and prayer. A silent tribute followed the final non-vibrato flute note. Ben-Haim’s Symphony No. 1 then burst forth with Wagnerian power in the strings, revealing Mahlerian structure infused with Yemeni prayers, marches, and oriental rhythms. The lyrical second movement recalled Adagietto, while a lively tarantella showcased violist Dmitri Ratush’s dark tone. Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 closed the evening with a heavy, lingering opening and surging brass power, as Shani led the orchestra through intensifying repeated themes, building to a feverish, triumphant finale.

The Israel Philharmonic and Lahav Shani at Carnegie Hall on 10.15.2025. Each one, thoroughly prepared and crafted with exquisite attention to detail, was an absolute joy. This is not only their deep understanding of the music, of the conductor, and of each other, but also the sense that they must exchange ideas, sometimes even clash, and ultimately build something together. I felt that they all spoke the same language, no matter what they were playing. All was playing for the others, and everyone was playing for one.