As with all performances, this concert, too, had its antecedents—ones that reach back at least half a century.
In the early 1970s, during the era led by János Rolla, one of the greatest instrumentalists of all time appeared in the life of the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra: the French trumpet virtuoso Maurice André. Over the years, he and the orchestra gave many joint performances both in Hungary and abroad. Their collaboration continued until 2003. Those who recall the appearances of this former miner turned brass phenomenon in Budapest will also remember the harmony and warmth he radiated. His trumpet knew no limits: he tackled impossibly difficult works with a lightness that made them seem effortless—pieces others wouldn’t even dare to learn. Maurice André was one of those rare artists who, even unintentionally, made audiences believe that dazzling instrumental brilliance was easy. Yet his artistry was never merely about virtuosity: he played with taste, joy, and a communicative spirit, feeling equally at home in all styles.

Lucienne Renaudin Vary is twenty-six years old, and while she is not Maurice André—an artist who was truly one of a kind—she nonetheless embodies that same ease, naturalness, brightness, and playfulness that makes the trumpet truly worth playing.
In Wagner’s Parsifal, the wise monk Gurnemanz tells the not-yet-enlightened title character in Act I, upon leading him into the sacred Hall of the Grail: “My son, here time becomes space.” In a similar sense, a trumpet melody is a sound become light. That, perhaps, is the answer to the opening question: why do we love the trumpet? Because all living beings are drawn to light. And when the trumpet sounds, it is as if the sun comes out: the instrument’s notes are golden rays of sunshine. These radiated from Lucienne Renaudin Vary’s trumpet during both the opening and closing works of the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra’s concert at the Academy of Music: from Alessandro Marcello’s Concerto in C minor (originally written in D minor for oboe) and Joseph Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto in E-flat major.

In both concertos, the artist played with a rich, colorful tone that remained beautifully even across all registers.
Her performance was marked throughout by fluidity and expressiveness. She brought lively character, dynamic shading, and rhythmic flexibility to the music. In the Marcello concerto, the brisk tempo of the opening movement and the finale’s dazzling virtuosity enhanced the work’s appeal. In Haydn’s concerto, a similar effect was achieved through the playful character of the first movement and the wit of the rondo finale. In both slow movements, she shaped the melodic lines with a singing quality, delicately outlining them with elegant flourishes. Her compact cadenzas made their mark, and alongside her technical brilliance and full-bodied tone, it was the naturalness of her music-making that left a lasting impression.
In recent years, the young trumpeter has expanded her reputation not only by performing pieces from the classical repertoire but also by demonstrating her versatility in jazz and popular music. Her first encore reflected this: she offered an elegant, unaccompanied paraphrase of Harold Arlen’s evergreen Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz. For her second encore, she returned to Haydn, reprising the finale of the Trumpet Concerto with the orchestra.

Some believe that a concert program is best when unified in tone, while others champion the impact of bold contrasts. On this evening, contrast prevailed.
The two buoyant trumpet concertos framed orchestral works of weight, seriousness, and intellectual depth. Under the firm and energetic leadership of concertmaster Péter Tfirst, the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra performed Haydn’s Symphony No. 49 in F minor (La Passione) in the first half. Their performance—dense in texture, full of momentum and passion—left no doubt that we had entered Haydn’s Sturm und Drang period, as reflected in the bold accents and dramatic contrasts of musical character.

If Haydn’s symphony came across as compelling—indeed, excellent—the same can be said of the work that opened the second half: Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge.
The chamber orchestra’s rendition brought to mind Stravinsky’s famous remark that the Grosse Fuge is “contemporary music that will remain contemporary forever.” Péter Tfirst and his colleagues conveyed the work’s relentless drive, its passionate intellectualism—or perhaps, intellectual passion—laying bare the monumental creative force behind it. They revealed Beethoven’s obstinate will to carry through the logic of his musical process, prioritizing structural rigor over conventional beauty.