Frans Brüggen

Biography

Frans Brüggen is considered amongst the foremost experts in the performance of eighteenth and early nineteenth century music.  He was born in Amsterdam and studied musicology at the university there.  At 21, he was appointed professor at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague and later held the position of Erasmus Professor at Harvard University.  Yet, as Luciano Berio wrote, he is ‘a musician who is not an archaeologist but a great artist’.

In 1981 he founded the Orchestra of the Eighteenth Century, which consists of some sixty members from nineteen countries.  Three times a year the orchestra assembles to go on tour.  The musicians, who are all specialists in eighteenth and early nineteenth century music, play on period instruments or on contemporary copies.  The wide-ranging repertoire this orchestra has recorded for Philips Classics includes works by Purcell, Bach, Rameau, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert and Mendelssohn. Many of their recordings have received international awards.

Frans Brüggen's conducting activities in recent seasons have included collaborations with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Northern Sinfonia, Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Rotterdam Philharmonic, Tonhalle Orchester Zürich, Munich Philharmonic, Beethoven Orchester Bonn, Orchestre de Paris, Ensemble Orchestral de Paris, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia (Rome), New Japan Philharmonic, Chicago Philharmonic and the San Francisco Symphony.

The 2011-12 season sees Frans Brüggen’s continuing relationship with the Radio Kamer Filharmonie, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Tonhalle Orchester Zürich and the Northern Sinfonia.  He will also continue regular touring activity with the Orchestra of the Eighteenth Century; together they recently completed their 104th tour.

In recognition of the services to music, Frans Brüggen was awarded the Gold Medal for Arts & Sciences in the private order of the House of Orange by the Dutch Royal House in September 2010.

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Press

Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment

Queen Elizabeth Hall (London), November 2011

**** Forget Enlightenment; this was an evening of wild and unpredictable emotions. And comic pratfalls. And risky, seat-of-the-pants virtuosity.
They came from Haydn, the great joker of classical music, and Carl Maria von Weber, an early romantic composer who uses surprise to tug at our emotions rather than our funny-bone. Presiding over the mayhem was the mild, white-haired figure of conductor Frans Bruggen, one of the founding fathers of the “period performance” movement. These days he seems frail but there’s still a twinkle in his eye, and he clearly relished the bizarre stops and starts in Haydn’s 60th Symphony, which launched the evening.
In this piece Haydn pulls every surprise out of the hat, interrupting one tempo with another, making the horns blow raspberries, imitating a drunken village band by having the violins mis-tune their strings. The OAE were a touch over-decorous with the gags, but that may be because Bruggen wanted them to reveal the gentle pathos underlying the fun--which they certainly did, especially in the beautiful Adagio.
Then came Weber’s Concertino for Horn and Orchestra, in which soloist Roger Montgomery made his old-fashioned natural (i.e. valveless) horn leap and dance with the agility of a violin. It was astounding to see him coax a vertiginous high note from his recalcitrant coil of brass tubing, eyes raised upwards with just a hint of panic, like a mountaineer hoping his crampon will hold.
Later Montgomery even played mysterious dusky chords, humming one note while playing another. The really astonishing thing was that he made all this athleticism seemed genuinely musical.
This concerto was basically a serenade with romantic shadows.
There were more of those in the slow movement of Weber’s Symphony no 2, beautifully touched in by violist Tom Dunn and horn players Gavin Edwards and Martin Lawrence. Elsewhere there were all kinds of surprises, not least the total contrast between the sunny Trio (Anthony Robson’s pastoral oboe to the fore) and the odd, abrupt and shadowy Minuet that surrounded it.
The engaging thing about all this was the way musical and emotional delicacy peeped out from among the rude surprises and virtuoso pyrotechnics. It was a nice touch to end with a piece where simple expressivity, and the violins’ ability to mould a long melodic line, could finally take centre-stage. This was Schubert’s Fifth Symphony, which emerged under Bruggen’s wise hands with limpid grace. Ivan Hewitt, The Telegraph, 2 November 2011