This is a Chinese language programme without subtitles.

On a winter evening in Zhejiang province, I found myself in Yanguan, a historic town in Haining, attending a concert that did not behave like a concert at all.

Normally, the rules of classical music are clear. Audiences sit below the stage, listen in silence, applaud at the appropriate moment, watch the performers take their bows, and then disperse. Participation is limited, and any deviation, a shout before the final chord has settled, an ill-timed comment, is usually treated as a breach of etiquette. Yet even such disruptions reveal something else: a desire to be involved.

I have long been interested in how classical music might offer audiences a stronger sense of engagement without damaging the listening experience. On 10 January, the Tide Philharmonic Orchestra, under the baton of Yu Lu, offered an unexpected answer at the Tides and Music Resort Arts Centre.

This was a “Workout Symphony Concert”. On stage were not only the orchestra but also three professional fitness coaches including Taiwanese star coach and entertainer Will Liu. In the hall were more than 2,500 audience members, many of whom did not remain seated for long. As the workout playlist of live music by Rossini, Offenbach, Chuck Rio, John Williams, Wang Xiling and Jay Chou unfolded, they stood up, raised their arms, worked their legs and followed the instructors through a carefully paced workout. This was not dance, but exercise: burning calories, engaging muscles, and moving in time with a live symphonic performance.

What struck me was not the novelty itself, but the degree to which participation was taken seriously. The audience was not invited to clap along or sing a refrain; they were asked to commit physically. Their involvement was total. In that sense, the concert pushed the idea of audience engagement to its logical extreme.

I have always spoken of my frustration with the fixed roles that define most classical concerts. Listeners may “vote with their tickets”, but they have little influence over what is played or how it is presented. In Yanguan, that imbalance was deliberately challenged. During the encore, Yu encouraged the audience to take photos and videos, and to share them freely on social media, a gesture that runs counter to the strict no-recording policies of most concert halls.

He went further, describing the Tide Philharmonic Orchestra as the first to openly invite audiences to record performances as mementos. The goal, he said, was simple: to bring more people into the concert hall, and at the same time to connect music with health and everyday life.

The idea is not without precedent. I was reminded of a multimedia concert by the China National Traditional Orchestra at the Shanghai Grand Theatre, where the ensemble’s then director Xi Qiang actively encouraged filming and online sharing as a way of extending the reach of traditional music. In Yanguan, the same logic applied, but with a physical dimension added. Participation was not just visual or digital; it was embodied.

By the end of the evening, it became clear that this was not merely a crossover event or a clever marketing concept. It was an attempt to rethink who a concert is for, and what it asks of its audience. Instead of passive listeners, the crowd became active participants, shaping the atmosphere of the performance with their movement and energy.

Classical music often speaks of transformation, innovation and vitality. In Yanguan, at least for one night, those ideas were taken quite literally. The audience did not just listen to the music. They moved with it, sweated with it, and, in a sense, claimed it as their own.

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The Wuxi Symphony Orchestra presented its third annual New Year’s Concert on 1 January 2026, conducted by its artistic director Lin Daye. He was joined by violinist Maxim Vengerov, pianist Kong Xiangdong, baritone Liao Changyong and suona player Liu Wenwen.

This year’s concert marked a significant milestone. It inaugurated the Wuxi Symphony Hall, the orchestra’s first permanent home. According to local reports, the city completed construction in just 33 months, finalised all legal approvals within four days, and sold out tickets for the opening concert in five minutes.

The new hall reflects Wuxi’s sustained investment in cultural infrastructure. Founded in 2023, the Wuxi Symphony Orchestra has developed at striking speed, with the Symphony Hall conceived early on as an integral part of the orchestra’s long-term vision. In 2025, Wuxi was designated a UNESCO City of Music as part of the Creative Cities Network. The orchestra’s 2026–27 season will open in September, its first full season in the new venue.

The complex includes a 1,500-seat main concert hall, a 500-seat chamber hall, and additional spaces designed for business and public events. Acoustics were designed by the renowned Japanese acoustician Yasuhisa Toyota, though he was not present at the inauguration. The pipe organ in the main hall was built by Rieger Orgelbau.

With the opening of its own purpose-built concert hall, complete with a concert organ, the Wuxi Symphony Orchestra now occupies a distinctive position within China’s orchestral landscape, joining the small number of elite ensembles nationwide able to call such a venue home.

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The XX Mariinsky International Piano Festival, which concluded On December 29 in St Petersburg, stands as one of Russia’s most prestigious piano events. Founded with the involvement of Valery Gergiev, the festival this year saw a Chinese pianist emerge as a particularly striking presence: Fang Yan, making his debut at the festival.

On the evening of 28 December, Fang gave a recital at the Rachmaninov Hall, part of the Mariinsky Theatre complex. He brought to St Petersburg his self-conceived Resonance recital series, a concert format that combines spoken commentary with performance, still a rarity at the festival. The result was an unusually strong emotional connection with the audience. The programme included Ode to the Yellow River, arranged by Yin Chengzong and others from the Yellow River Piano Concerto.

The following evening, Fang appeared again at the festival’s closing concert, performing Rodion Shchedrin’s Piano Concerto No. 5 with the Mariinsky Symphony Orchestra under Gurgen Petrosyan at the Mariinsky Concert Hall. The performance formed the culmination of the festival’s tribute to Shchedrin, who passed away at the end of August this year, presenting all six of his piano concertos.

After the concerto, Fang returned to the stage for an encore of Ode to the Yellow River. When the Yellow River met the Neva twice in two nights, Chinese music resounded through one of Russia’s most revered musical institutions.

During the interval, Fang spoke with KLASSIKOM.

Q: Congratulations on your Mariinsky International Piano Festival debut. Yesterday’s recital was part of your ongoing Resonance series. Could you introduce this concept, and explain why you chose it for your first solo appearance here?

Fang Yan: The idea behind Resonance is actually very simple, just as the name suggests. I hope that after a full concert, audiences leave having truly felt something, having taken something with them, rather than simply thinking, “I’ve attended a concert.”

I want them to walk away feeling deeply moved, thinking, “This meant something to me. I want to come back and listen again.” That’s why I started developing the Resonance series back in China.

Russian audiences already have a strong concert-going tradition. Even if they feel they don’t fully “understand” a piece, they still come, because concerts and opera are part of everyday life here, like going to the cinema. Opera is relatively easier to grasp, with text and narrative, but instrumental music raises an important question: how do we listen?

I feel performers have a responsibility to guide audiences in listening. In last night’s concert, I began by telling stories, very concrete and intimate ones, gradually leading listeners into the beauty of the music itself. From Beethoven’s Pathétique, we move into pure musical beauty, and then to Chaconne by Bach-Busoni, the Universe. What is the universe? It is everything, it is anything.

Through this process, audiences begin to experience the music on their own terms. When that happens, they want to return, and they start connecting the music with their own lives and emotions. That sense of reflection and resonance is what matters most to me.

Too often, audiences leave saying, “That pianist was amazing,” but also thinking, “What does this have to do with me?” They take a photo, post it online, tick the box of having been to the Mariinsky, and may never return.

I don’t believe classical music is esoteric. It’s like a mirror, reflecting ourselves. It can be anything. That’s why Resonance matters to me, whether in China, Russia, or anywhere else. Even seasoned concertgoers can experience something genuinely new.

Q: Your recital was structured around the theme of love, moving from romantic love to gratitude, love of country, and finally life and the universe. Why did you choose love as the thread?

Fang Yan: Love is the most universal emotion, and the easiest one for people to relate to. For young people, it’s often at its most intense; over a lifetime, it takes many forms.

Everyone’s experience of love is deeply personal. I wanted audiences to bring out their own individual feelings. Only then can real resonance happen. That inner connection is what I value most.

Q: You performed Ode to the Yellow River again. Why bring this piece to Russia?

Fang Yan: I first played it at the Mariinsky back in March, and since then I’ve included it in almost all my international programmes. It has become something of a personal signature.

I’m Chinese, and I want to share our cultural treasures with international audiences. Through Ode to the Yellow River, listeners may grow curious about Chinese music and composers. Once that interest begins, it can lead to performance and promotion, creating a positive cycle.

I don’t think my contribution is huge, but small steps add up. Lang Lang has done this for years by programming Chinese works abroad, and that matters enormously. I hope more Chinese pianists will continue to bring our music onto international stages.

Q: At the closing concert you performed Shchedrin’s Piano Concerto No. 5. How do you like this piece?

Fang Yan: It unfolds very naturally. The first movement feels like entering an unfamiliar, slightly mysterious world. The second is introspective, almost like speaking to oneself. By the third movement, everything bursts open.

Taken as a whole, it feels deeply human. The concerto is sometimes called the “pianist’s concerto” because it reflects Shchedrin’s own identity as a pianist. Technically it’s demanding, especially the wild cadenza in the final movement, yet the writing is refined and detailed.

The work was premiered by the Los Angeles Philharmonic under Esa-Pekka Salonen, and dedicated to Olli Mustonen. It’s a substantial, distinctive concerto, and I believe it deserves far more attention.

Q: You were the only Chinese pianist at this festival, and the only one among those performing Shchedrin’s complete piano concertos. How does that feel?

Fang Yan: I genuinely love performing here. The audiences are deeply passionate about music, and you feel that immediately. The questions they ask afterwards are thoughtful and stimulating, which is very encouraging.

St Petersburg is a city with extraordinary cultural depth. Performing here is always special.

As a Chinese musician, of course I feel honoured. At the same time, China has so many outstanding pianists and musicians. I’m certain that more and more of them will appear on major international stages. I’m simply one of the lucky ones, and I truly cherish the opportunity to be here.

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The Mariinsky Theatre in St Petersburg isn’t just a theatre.

It’s an entire complex made up of three separate buildings: the historic Mariinsky Theatre, the Second Stage, and the Concert Hall. Together they house as many as nine performing spaces.

On 27 December, I put myself through a bit of a self-imposed marathon.

At two in the afternoon, I started at the Concert Hall with a piano festival concert. Xenia Bashmet, daughter of Yuri, was at the piano, with Fyodor Khandrikov conducting the Mariinsky Orchestra in the music by Bach, Haydn, Britten, Tchaikovsky and Joaquín Turina whose Rapsodia sinfónica was such a joy to discover.

After that, I headed over to the Second Stage for Siegfried, conducted by Valery Gergiev, third night of the Ring cycle. The re-imagined production was premiered at the Shanghai Grand Theatre in October 2023. This was the first time it was staged at Mariinsky in consecutive nights. Fyodor Khandrikov, who conducted the matinee, was on the timpani. Mikhail Vekua sang the invincible title role quite formidably.

By the time it all wrapped up, it was nearly 11:30 at night.

Honestly, it felt less like a day out and more like a full-on musical pilgrimage.

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On 1 January 2025, we were combing the shoreline of Fangchenggang, Guangxi, searching for shells at low tide. For KLASSIKOM, that quiet moment by the sea marked the beginning of a year that was destined to be anything but ordinary.

Over the following twelve months, we took nearly 60 flights, crossed half the globe in longitude and latitude, and travelled to close to ten countries and regions. Our total time in the air approached 200 hours, the equivalent of circling the Earth at the equator two and a half times. All of it was driven by a single purpose: to bring our readers an ocean of music.

This was a year of relentless movement. With a travel rhythm that averaged one and a half flights a week, we witnessed the emergence of new artists, listened to the birth of new works, and saw two brand-new orchestras take shape before our eyes. We attended the launch of inaugural seasons, returned to enduring classics with fresh ears, and spent time with musicians who were willing to treat KLASSIKOM as a friend rather than a bystander. From the front of the stage to the unseen spaces behind it, we filmed stories that carried warmth, struggle and humanity.

At times, the greatest difficulty lay not in the journey itself, but in the destination. In late August, during our assignment in Matsumoto, Japan, we worked under pressures far beyond what most people might imagine, yet still completed our critical coverage. Because of the sensitivity involved, the specifics of those challenges cannot yet be made public. What can be said is that the experience tested the limits of endurance, judgement and responsibility.

Even so, curiosity continued to drive us forward. We kept moving across continents because first-hand, original, exclusive stories, those that no one else has told, remain the standard we refuse to compromise. Every story we share, every video we release, every line we write revolves around music and the people who make it. Some stories inevitably fade from view, but most remain archived across all domestic and international KLASSIKOM platforms, quietly waiting to be rediscovered.

Over time, KLASSIKOM in English has become a window through which the world glimpses the living, breathing landscape of Chinese music today. Our reports are frequently cited by overseas media and by visiting musicians from abroad, who share them across their own social networks. In many cases, a simple Google search in English for a Chinese composer, a young pianist, an opera title or a traditional instrumentalist will return pages where KLASSIKOM accounts for a striking share of the results.

Just as we felt the year drawing to a close, ready to lower the curtain and prepare for the new one ahead, fate intervened. From a land marked by conflict, a call to assemble arrived without warning. By the time you read this, one of our special correspondents will already be on another long journey, travelling thousands of miles once again.

This, then, is KLASSIKOM’s 2025.

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On 21 December at the Henan Performing Arts Centre, the cantata Sister Jiang returned to the stage under the baton of Niu Chuang, with the Henan Symphony Orchestra. The title role was shared by soprano Jin Man, who first sang Sister Jiang in the original opera in 1984, and the younger soprano Song Lu. Tenors Dai Yuqiang and Mou Tianxiang alternated as Fu Zhigao, Jiang’s husband whose betrayal seals her fate.

The performance, produced by Jin Man Studio, marked a major milestone: 2025 is the 25th anniversary of Sister Jiang in its cantata form.

For Jin Man, the evening was not merely a commemorative revival but a reaffirmation of artistic principles she has defended for decades. Central among them is her insistence on Chinese bel canto singing without electronic amplification, a stance that sets her apart in a performance culture where microphones are often taken for granted.

“The human voice,” she has repeatedly argued, “must project through technique, not technology.” In Sister Jiang, this belief is inseparable from the work’s moral core. The heroine’s dignity, resolve and inner strength, Jin Man maintains, can only be fully conveyed through an unamplified voice that carries natural resonance, breath and colour across the hall.

Jin Man’s advocacy of bel canto is rooted in her own artistic formation. When she first sang Sister Jiang in 1984, the role demanded not only vocal power but also long, arching lines shaped by breath control and emotional restraint. These qualities, she believes, are diluted when amplification smooths out natural contrasts and reduces the singer’s responsibility for projection.

In the cantata version, performed in concert form without elaborate staging, the voice becomes even more exposed, making vocal technique and musical integrity paramount.

The decision to transform Sister Jiang from a fully staged opera into a cantata in 2020 was, in Jin Man’s words, both practical and aesthetic. The cantata strips away scenery, costumes and theatrical movement, shifting the focus to music and text. This change, she explains, allows the audience to engage more directly with the emotional and ideological substance of the work.

While the opera unfolds as a continuous drama with clearly defined scenes and interactions, the cantata emphasises reflection and narration, giving greater weight to choral writing and orchestral commentary. For Jin Man, this format also aligns naturally with her belief in the primacy of the voice and the score.

At the heart of both versions lies the story of Sister Jiang, a revolutionary figure whose courage has made her an enduring symbol in modern Chinese music theatre. Set against the backdrop of political repression, the opera traces her arrest, imprisonment and ultimate sacrifice. Betrayed by her husband Fu Zhigao, she refuses to renounce her ideals, even in the face of torture and death. Her arias, marked by lyrical nobility rather than overt heroics, articulate a quiet but unbreakable resolve. In the cantata, these moments are reframed as musical meditations, allowing the audience to contemplate her inner world as much as her actions.

Sharing the role with Song Lu, Jin Man sees continuity rather than contrast. Passing the torch to a younger soprano is, for her, part of ensuring that Sister Jiang remains a living work rather than a historical monument. Yet she is clear that this continuity must be grounded in vocal discipline and respect for the score.

As the Henan performance demonstrated, Jin Man’s vision of Chinese bel canto is not a rejection of tradition or innovation, but an insistence that both meet on the foundation of the human voice, unassisted and fully heard.

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This is a Chinese language programme without subtitles.

On the evening of December 14, the Qingdao Concert Hall witnessed a milestone in the young career of percussionist Zhang Fang: his 30th solo concert. For Zhang, winner of the 2020 BBC Young Musician competition, the event was not simply another performance, but a personal summation of five years of artistic growth, self-reflection and commitment to a still under-recognised musical discipline.

Zhang’s journey as a solo performer began in 2021, shortly before he travelled to the UK for the BBC Young Musician finals. Because of the pandemic, he had already returned to China, and his first two concerts took place in Laixi, a county-level city near Qingdao. What began as a tentative step has since become a sustained artistic practice: from 2021 to 2025, Zhang has presented 30 solo concerts across China.

Looking back, Zhang says the most striking change over these performances has been psychological rather than technical. In the beginning, he admits, he felt resistant to the idea of solo concerts, held back by self-doubt and fear of not measuring up. Over time, however, repeated appearances on stage reshaped his understanding of music and of himself. “The process itself,” he reflects, “has been the most important thing.”

That early resistance can be traced back to his childhood training. Zhang first encountered percussion through drum kit playing, purely as a hobby. It was only after meeting his teacher, Chen, and later studying classical percussion systematically in Shanghai that he came face to face with the demands of professional musicianship. Those years were intense and austere: living in a small rented room with his father, practising relentlessly with few breaks, and rarely enjoying the freedoms of adolescence. For a time, percussion felt more like an obligation than a calling.

Perspective came with time and experience, particularly after his return to China following his BBC Young Musician victory. Gradually, Zhang found himself genuinely drawn to percussion, to the point where long periods away from practice felt physically unsettling. On stage, he discovered a distinctive energy that performance alone could generate, reinforcing a sense of professional identity rooted in live music-making.

Choosing to return to China after his international success was not without uncertainty. Zhang acknowledges that staying in the UK might have led to a different path, but he prefers not to dwell on hypotheticals. Instead, he immersed himself in China’s musical life, working with the Shanghai Percussion Association, where his roles now extend beyond performance to include teaching and administrative responsibilities. This shift, he says, has accelerated his personal and artistic maturity.

The Qingdao concert itself was ambitious in scale and concept. Lasting nearly four hours, it featured 22 works, symbolically matching Zhang’s age of 22, organised into three sections to balance the often avant-garde character of contemporary percussion repertoire. The programme showcased a vast array of instruments, from marimba and vibraphone to Chinese traditional percussion and drums from Africa and Latin America. The physical demands were considerable, involving constant instrument changes and prolonged concentration, yet Zhang recalls finishing the concert feeling he could still continue playing.

For Zhang Fang, the significance of this 30th concert lies not in numbers but in purpose. He hopes his performances will help audiences see percussion not as a background force, but as a medium rich in artistic and cultural expression. Looking ahead, he is drawn to expanding percussion’s boundaries through body percussion, theatrical formats and rhythm-based performance.

His future path remains open, but one conviction is clear: as long as he can play, he wants to live on stage.

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A concert devoted to the rarely heard Chinese double-reed instrument guanzi took place on December 18 at the Opera Hall of the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing, bringing together performance, education, and innovation around one of China’s most marginalised traditional wind instruments.

Titled Home in the Heart, the concert featured renowned guanzi performer and educator Han Lei alongside his students, with the Central Conservatory Chinese Orchestra conducted by Ma Shuai.

The event marked Han Lei’s fourth guanzi-themed concert in China in recent years, following earlier appearances in Shanghai, Hong Kong, and the Peking University. Despite its long history, the guanzi remains a niche instrument even within professional Chinese music circles, with only a handful of conservatories offering dedicated programmes. Han Lei, currently the guanzi professor at the Central Conservatory, has made it a personal mission to expand the instrument’s repertoire, visibility, and technical possibilities.

The programme was divided between chamber and large-scale works. One half focused on guanzi solo and chamber music repertoire, performed by Han Lei and four of his students using soprano, alto, bass, and contrabass instruments to achieve full register coverage. The second half centred on orchestral concerto works, some of which were newly commissioned or newly arranged and received either world or Beijing premieres.

Among the highlights was Home in the Heart by Malaysian composer Kong Su Leong, inspired by Chinese folk melodies and shaped through a blend of Western harmonic thinking and Eastern melodic sensibility. Another work, Bright Moon over the Sea, evoked the emotional world of overseas Chinese communities and was singled out for its narrative depth and expressive scope.

Several musicians and administrators attending the concert commented on both the artistic quality and the broader significance of the event.

Composer Liu Changyuan noted that the guanzi’s distinctive, penetrating timbre makes it one of the most representative wind instruments of northern China, but stressed that its future depends on sustained collaboration between composers and performers. “Only original works can give new meaning to the instrument,” he said, pointing out that innovation inevitably brings new playing techniques and modes of expression.

Others were struck by the calibre of the performers, particularly the younger students. Observers highlighted the appearance of guanzi players ranging from middle-school age to undergraduate level, seeing this as tangible evidence of a new generation emerging despite the instrument’s limited institutional presence.

Wu Xuhai, head of the Beijing Chinese Orchestra, described the concert as both artistically rigorous and socially meaningful, noting that its academic standards were matched by a clear vision for cultural transmission.

They also emphasised Han Lei’s role not only as a performer but as an innovator and educator. His work on instrument modification, expanded tonal capabilities, and flexible transposition systems was cited as crucial in allowing the guanzi to move beyond its traditional association with sombre or plaintive moods.

The concert was widely viewed as a statement of intent: to reposition guanzi within contemporary Chinese music through new repertoire, strong pedagogy, and sustained public exposure. As several members of the audience concluded, only through high-quality works, committed performers, and continued advocacy can this ancient instrument find a secure place in China’s musical future.

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Xia Feiyun is a veteran conductor of Chinese orchestras who turns 90 this year. He is often credited with the founding of conducting techniques required in a Chinese orchestra, and fostering the younger generation of Chinese orchestra conductors.

Some of them travelled to Shanghai from Malaysia and Singapore last night to celebrate the 90th birthday of their mentor: Yan Huichang, Pang Kapang, Liu Jie, Wu Qiang, Quek Ling Kiong and others all conducted the combined forces of SCM Chinese Orchestra and the Yunfei Chinese Orchestra founded by Xia himself.

Xia was escorted to the stage hailed by the audience at the end of the concert.

Filmed on December 16 at the Shanghai Symphony Hall.

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Champion of the 2020 BBC Young Musician, percussionist Zhang Fang returned to China in 2021 and lived in Qingdao, studying quietly with his teacher since seven while refining his already blazing technique.

Now at 22, Zhang is back on the stage. He gave his 30th portrait concert at the Qingdao Concert Hall on December 14th, a marathon that well stretched into its fourth hour.

Twenty two pieces were featured in the concert, corresponding to his age. A milestone in his career, Zhang looks forward to returning to the global stage in 2026.

This is an English programme without subtitles.

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