Author: Malcom Tafadzwa Dzimiri

Introduction: Princeton in Leipzig

“Seminars by Princeton’s Prof. Wendy Heller explore the music performed at the festival. Dr. Ruth Ochs, conductor of the Princeton Sinfonia, provides coaching on students’ performance of relevant repertoire, culminating in a public recital. Language classes at each student’s level are provided by interDaF, supplemented by weekly one-on-one tutorials with Dr. Jamie Rankin of the German Department. And all of this takes place in Leipzig, considered by many to be one of the most exciting cities in Germany.”

The 81 words in this passage don’t lie. I applied and proceeded to enroll in this course for several reasons; let’s name them:

Firstly, my primary motivation for participating in the Princeton in Leipzig program was to enhance my singing skills through intensive performance coaching while immersing myself in the rich musical traditions of Leipzig. Having only played the recorder at Grade 1-2 music level in high school, this program offered me an unparalleled opportunity to build my confidence as a performer in a historically rich environment.

This is the third time I’ve mentioned this in my life, but the reason I was interested (and still am) in improving my singing skills is that I believe I’ve a talent. In short, while going about any mundane or thrilling activity, I come up with songs. I don’t necessarily have to sing the song or brainstorm deeply on it. Still, it just starts playing in my head with a complete set of main lyrics – the chorus, hook, perhaps another stanza – lyrics for the background singers, and the most intriguing part is that there’s a perfect accompanying beat. It’s always amazed me, especially since I’ve never understood what notes, instruments, or singing ranges (aside from saying ‘low’ and ‘high’) my brain simulates as being performed.

An almost complete song begins, and it ends. In the past, when I was really into music, I’ve noted down the lyrics and sung them out. To this day, I still remember the song about me and my best friend in primary school entitled “You’re The Star and I’m The Linker”, the one about my and an acquaintance on the school bus’ bags called “Royalex”, and the rather self-centered one called “I Am A Legend.” At random times, they can play in my head and take me back to the exact moment or at least how I felt in 2015, 2016, or 2017. It’s how I’ve been able to remember certain people who’ve only been around for a few days in my life, or those that I haven’t encountered in almost a decade. There are several of them; there could be 3-7 albums depending on how one decides to group them.

Thus, I want to use my voice and this talent to reflect on the past, to embrace the present, dream about the future, and, as a Christian, praise the God I believe in. In 2017, my peers regarded me as a good singer. However, the lack of exposure to choir or vocal music in high school meant I lost the ability to articulate my singing voice, except for the one time I sang the entirety of “How Great Thou Art” during the pandemic. In the past two years, I’ve tried to sing, but without much success in harnessing the full potential of my vocal cords. I was interested in taking singing lessons during the past Spring, but my schedule didn’t allow it. Having decided that I would have to wait till the Fall, I saw Princeton in Leipzig as the door that could open a world of possibilities for me in this universe of my life: music and singing.

Now, with that said, I was slightly concerned when one of the program page brochures said there would be “no coaching.” In hindsight, perhaps that was a misread. One of my professors can correct me on this, as I found it difficult to find this detail in the GPS brochure at the time of writing.

Not only did I view myself as being able to appreciate the works and legacy of the famous German composer Johann Sebastian Bach, whose works I’d never listened to, but I also thought it’d allow me to deepen my understanding of how music transcends linguistic and cultural barriers.

Next, I was excited to learn about a new language. However, to me, Deutsch is not just any language. Having spent a significant amount of time learning about Germany’s history over the past 8 years and following current events, such as the 2021 and 2025 federal elections, my interest in learning German was at an all-time high.

During my spring semester, I took a freshman seminar on intercultural communication. It introduced me to the intricacies of pragmalinguistics, politeness, and cross-cultural exchange — how language reflects and shapes social practices. Hence, I also saw actively participating in a public recital in Leipzig while simultaneously studying German as an opportunity to apply what I’d learned.

Last but not least, as much as this was going to make a once-thirteen-year-old’s dreams come true, Leipzig was personally significant to me as the home of RasenBallsport Leipzig, one of my favorite soccer teams; it still is for this reason. The city’s blend of history, culture, and contemporary life makes it a fascinating place to experience the intersections between music, language, and community.

Everything you’ve read thus far is context. Each bit of it will be relevant in the reflection proper that is to come. The course description, the context I’ve provided, and what I will proceed to reflect on are words – accurate and precise words. However, I will never be able to write that fully captures the essence of the new knowledge, discoveries, realizations, and emotions I gained and experienced on this excellent summer study abroad. Nonetheless, that will not stop me from telling you all about it.

Baroque & Heroes

The first time I recall seeing the word ‘Baroque’ was in the guide on how to play the recorder in 7th grade. The last time I remember hearing that word was in presentations my classmates and I did for our music class about the classical music eras: Medieval, Renaissance, Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Modernist, and Postmodernist. I had completely forgotten about these facts until our first reading began, debating whether Bach marked the end of the Baroque era or the beginning of the Classical one.

Now, almost everybody in the class had a favorite Bach piece. Some of them also loved Mozart, Mendelssohn, and others of a similar ilk. Perhaps it was because I didn’t enjoy my 7th-grade music class at the time, but the idea of truly loving Baroque music was novel to me. My mind couldn’t let go of the passionate and elegant gestures that accompanied the energetic and comprehensive voice with which Prof. Heller discussed Bach, the musical history of Leipzig, and attending conferences in Halle during the pre-departure orientation. Hearing my fellow Zimbabwean Tendekai proclaim J.S. Bach as his favorite composer added to the fuel. I really needed to understand the how and why of how one could come to appreciate Baroque and Bach’s music in such a fervent and adoring manner.

After the first concert, I was thrilled to see how Tendekai and Laura were so jubilant to meet their heroes (plus their instruments), the bassist and another individual whose name I’ve forgotten.

I felt the same way when James held the concert bassoon and spoke with the bassoon players at the St. John Passion concert as well. When they explained to me how and why it meant so much to them, from the details of why they regard them highly to the rarity and special nature of the instruments. James reacted to the bassoonists following him on Instagram in the same manner I probably would if the Scuderia Ferrari Formula 1 team followed my account. In addition, Tendekai and Laura’s excitement, which saw them share moments as precious as Tendekai’s performance on that special bass, being recorded by the bassist herself, would be akin to my getting to play on Roger Federer’s court or something. The beauty of it was that they were right there.

Speaking on behalf of all long-term soccer fans (or fanatics), I could describe soccer as pronounced in my first ever soccer video game: “the game that we love, the game that we live for. This isn’t any game. It’s our game.” In that moment, I truly understood that what the role models and heroes mean to me in the sports and games that I watch and play is the same for them in the realm of music. Notwithstanding, they could accentuate that feeling with a different set of words.

However, as I’ll go on to explain in a later section, this Bach character truly transformed into a new role model of my own, in addition to the ones I already had, as the course drew to a close.

Three Blogs on Music Theory: But What About The Singing?

Going into the course, I found it highly unlikely that I would be singing in this course. However, I must tell you, when you meet a truly joyous and wonderful music professor (Dr. Ochs) – who happens to be a conductor – on the 2nd day that tells you, “I’m going to make a musician out of you,” in the most calm, confident and collected way possible in front of all your classmates, you listen and you hold onto hope. So, I listened and held onto hope.

Until Tuesday, 17th, and Thursday, 19th of 2025, I really hadn’t had a clear-cut chance to sharpen my ability to sing the songs for the recital that the class had been working on. Dr. Ochs’ determination to see me make an attempt never died down, however. The trajectory of the question “will I perform? will I not perform?” completely changed that week.

On the latter day, it became apparent that I might just perform in the suit I had brought all the way from Princeton. With the help of Andy and Prof. Rankin, I finally understood how to change pitch (change note) mid-word and how to hold the same note. Andy was a great explainer of many errors and tricks vocalists come across and utilize, such as figuring out how to maximize one’s singing time before running short of breath or doing a continuous increase in pitch.

With his encouragement and questions, I found the answer to a question that had been bothering me for the past four (4): could I still sing the relatively higher pitches for my now deep voice? It turned out that I could, despite running out of breath, as I had been struggling to do so when I tried to sing the songs I had made in my head. Since then, I’ve never forgotten to breathe down and not bring my shoulders up – thank you, Ruth!

Leading up to this, I always daydreamed of a moment I would get to sing in front of an almost endless array of grass bordered by trees on a slightly higher altitude that stood behind. I’d always thought I’d have to do it at night by the golf field separating Forbes and the Graduate College. Fortunately, to my surprise, the experience occurred much earlier and in a place I would’ve never expected.

After the Koffee Cantata Fruhstuck concert in the Salle Pologme, I decided to visit the periphery of the Red Bull Arena – home of Rasenballsport Leipzig. My encounter exceeded the expectations you might have for a situation where I’m unable to enter the stadium. Seeing it up close just brought immense joy to me. As I circled around the entire structure, I discovered a new sport that resembles volleyball, but with a significantly larger ball called fistball. A competitive game was being played by what appeared to be local youth teams. As I completed my circular path around the stadium, I began singing. I was just happy to even if it didn’t sound great. In the middle of my song, that’s when I saw it – the almost-endless grass with the trees on the edge of a neighboring incline. I embraced it and sang even more in the backyard of the Red Bull Arena.

Unfortunately, my phone battery was dead by the time I arrived at the stadium. However, this moment was special – it was a dream come true, and I appreciated how singing thousands of miles away from home can bring some of the best joys you’ll ever experience at a fantastic place you’d never thought possible, just a couple of years before.

The road to the recital was rather tricky. On the day of our penultimate rehearsal, random, unfortunate errors sprang up. I got lost. Deciphering how to get to the Reformed Evangelical Church – a brand-new course location – turned out not to be my best work, as I disembarked the tram two stations before the correct one. Therefore, this meant I was now on a 2-3 day (zwei bis drei Tagen) streak of getting lost (verloren).

In the end, I managed to make the last 5 minutes of this particular rehearsal. I was disappointed, as I really felt like I had let the team down. However, on the bright side, I still managed to get in a few lines of practice—which always lifts the soul—and the post-rehearsal chat I had with Ruth was deep, encouraging, and delightfully helpful. I may have had nerves going into the recital, but after that awful day, I knew I just wanted to enjoy it, even if I ran short of breath at an inopportune time.

The Beauty of Passionate Performance

Speaking of enjoying music joyfully, I must mention two of my classmates’ performances at the recital.

During the dress rehearsal, Maurice informed Dr. Ochs that he couldn’t play one of the cello suites. Dr. Ochs announced to the crowd, twice, that one of the performances was unfortunately not going to take place.

However, when Maurice’s initially planned time for his solo was upon us, he showed up. It turned out he was going to perform after all. I could see the confidence, tenacity, and commitment on his face, his eyes, and his hands as he sat down with his cello. In that moment, I knew that something extraordinary was about to happen, and I instinctively reached for my recorder.

When that suite was performed, Maurice utterly demonstrated all the subtle and superb things which you could do with a cello. It was beautiful. It was like watching a racing driver start from last place and go on to steal the whole show with an epic win in a commanding performance that was head and shoulders above the rest, due to skill rather than chance. The applause that we, the audience, gave fed off the intricate way he played the cello.

I have always found the applause culture of orchestras, operas, and ensembles so fascinating in how it emanates respect and appreciation, especially in light of the bowing. This moment was so special; I recalled telling my roommate, Felix (a violin player), about the applause culture. After showing him the video I took of Maurice’s performance, we will have a discussion on whether it is one of the top 5 applause culture moments we’ve ever seen.

Another instrumental performance I really enjoyed was the duet between Charlotte and Noah. During our last lunch with everyone at InterDaF, Charlotte reflected on how she was happy to have practiced such an epic piece in a way she hadn’t recently on campus. I’ve just been left stunned by how this course provided her with a chance not only to practice again with ample space and time to really push herself, but also at such a mesmerizing level.

Bach – Another Role Model of My Own

Speaking of practice, Bach’s VR self had a few words to share with us about the topic in the Bach Archives.

I certainly have my critique about the graphics during the VR experience – Bach’s coat literally cut through the piano bench he sat on. However, I’ll never forget when he advised us that “any modest talent can be turned into the finest ability.”

After spending weeks in a seminar, understanding his life beyond the legend emanating from the style of his statue, comprehending who Bach, the church musician, court musician, father, husband, and son, was, was enlightening. With that quote, I felt encouraged about my singing and any other pursuits that pique my curiosity, which I want to explore. Compared to the weeks leading up to June, I felt like I knew Bach better. My classmates can definitely say otherwise, as they’ve probably already delved into his life and performed his music. Today, he is genuinely remarkable.

The Bach Community

Lastly, who else thinks the Bach is superb? The Bach Community thinks Bach is cool!

Being able to meet and engage with the performers on stage or in the backrooms after the Kaffeekantate, St. John Passion, and Concerto No. 20 was an opportunity I never expected. Like the director of the festival said, this isn’t Hollywood, where there’s a significant distance between the performers and the audience.

In this world, John Eliot Gardiner is a highly regarded figure. He made the time to talk as extensively as possible to Tendekai and Laura, who hold him in a regard that I can’t put into words. Dr. Tatlow took the time to share with us their outstanding research on whether universal harmony influenced Bach’s compositional style. At the same time, Professor Dr. Peter Wollny made extra time for us to explore Bach’s composition and choir endowment accounts with him.

In short, I love how tight-knit and open the Bach community is. I wasn’t learning or interacting with their work from a distance. Still, the natural setup of the concerts allows one a clear-cut chance to interact with the performers, scholars, and coordinators in a way I wouldn’t have imagined. They’re family, and if you’re reading this, having never been to a BachFest or Leipzig, I know you can be part of it too.

Conclusion

From the first time I shed a tear while watching a musical performance at the Gewandhaus to embracing the scenery and atmosphere around me, including the chandeliers and the wonderful people I met while learning German, I grew as a singer.

From the times I struggled to pronounce the different “ch” consonants in German class and at 1:1 with Prof. Rankin to the moment I finally got it with 30 minutes of extra help from the Phonetiks teacher and Vito’s encouragement every day, I grew as a German speaker.

From the time I had the point-of-sale experience at Aldi, where the lady complained that I couldn’t speak German in Germany, to having a conversation in Germany with a random man in an NFL shirt on the tram, and the two women who work at the Breite Straße bakery, I grew as an intercultural communicator.

To conclude, my experience surpassed what I hoped I would gain from in only its extent but also its ways. Thank you so much to Wendy, Jamie, and Ruth for all their support! Danke Katherina und InterDaF! Thank you to the Music Department, German Department, Office of International Programs, and Princeton! And of course, thank you to all my classmates! It wouldn’t have been what is was without you all.

Exploring the third spaces within the city of Leipzig is wonderful.

Tonight, I will give two examples – both are parks.

On Sunday, 22 June 2025, I attended a park service at an international church on the opposite end of the city.

Unfortunately, for the ideal of a smooth journey, things didn’t go quite to plan in terms of getting to Clara-Zetkin-Park on time — this 40-minute journey was also my first time using the bus instead of the tram. I accidentally took the bus on the correct line but in the opposite direction. This mistake significantly delayed me.

However, due to this error, I discovered an awesome mini-park. I don’t suppose that this stretch of healthy grass and benches would count as the standard park to a Leipziger. Hence, whenever one mentions how Leipzig strives to be a green space city, this small park around the neighborhood comes to my mind.

And not only that! Let me tell you about Clara-Zetkin-Park.

Now, upon getting there, it became clear that this place was amazing – Ich habe den Park super gefunden = I found it super!

There’s a diverse range of outdoor activities to enjoy. I was intrigued by a family mud run that took place at the adjacent horse racing track – if I come back to Leipzig, I will look into how I can participate in one. This park was also one of the best places to have a picnic, cycle along a picturesque scene, or go canoeing in some beautiful waters.

In my case, going for a park service and then hanging out with others to play badminton, Viking chess, and spikeball on the cool grass in hot but not desert-hot sun was great! Without a doubt, every tourist needs to view and appreciate this city’s greenery as one of the main attractions. This aspect of Leipzig – just roaming into the actual outdoors and being able to do all kinds of cool stuff spontaneously is one of the reasons I find it epic!

Introduction
On Saturday, June 14, 2025, at 9 a.m. I found myself at Salle Pologme for a breakfast concert hosted by the Collegium Musicum.

The path to the concert built up a lot of anticipation. As I made my way up the stairs of a building whose entrance you can’t easily identify when taking in the magnificence of the cobblestone streets that line the Augustplatz, I had no expectations but great hope that this concert would deliver.

Main
The first piece, a concert in A minor, struck me with its gentle beginnings, drawing each instrumentalist into the spotlight one by one as they soloed. The atmosphere transported me to a medieval festival—a time when jousting was a prominent spectacle. I noticed the use of caesuras in the music, which piqued my curiosity; this was the second particular time that I realized I needed to learn more musical terminology to articulate what I was experiencing. Nonetheless, feeling that way didn’t make me forget that music is abstract, as Ruth said. Hence, strings of letters cannot accentuate all perceptions and feelings.

As the last movement approached, it ended abruptly, leaving me wanting more, my anticipation for its continuation unfulfilled. Fortunately, I had recorded parts of the performance so I could revisit it later. There was a light-hearted moment when someone poked fun at the unique brass instruments, particularly one that resembled a trumpet.

 

The next piece began with a singer whose voice, in harmony with the trumpet, evoked memories of serene scenes from In the Night Garden.

What is “In the Night Garden,” you may wonder?

Igglepiggle and his friends reside in a magical forest filled with vibrant, colorful flowers. They participate in numerous delightful activities and enjoy listening to bedtime stories together. To my 5-year-old self, they represent a charming ensemble of toys exploring the values of sharing, caring, and having fun.

It felt transported to untouched woodlands, complete with perfectly manicured lawns. The trumpet’s rhythm radiated joy, reminiscent of a celebratory cantata, a festive occasion worthy of a royal gathering from Disney or Nickelodeon, setin a medieval monarchy.

I regretted not recording this piece, but figured I might find it online later. Conversations flowed again, this time focusing on the instruments themselves. I discussed with Gabrielle the nuances of applause—when to applaud during a chamber performance versus a solo instrumentalist or a vocal piece.

The concluding piece featured a piano duet, which I thought sounded akin to striking metal. Were there numerous trills? Or perhaps I was merely noticing repeated phrases throughout? The music made me feel like I was on a holy adventure through an evergreen forest in the summer, along a richly colored clay path dotted with stones, rising to a rocky ledge. It might be a bit far-fetched from the actual theme of the song, but that’s how I processed it: as wonderful.

The long pauses in the music created a profound silence, allowing the audience moments to connect, as Gabrielle noted. These silences mirrored the breaks between collections of pieces performed.

As the next movement unfolded, I found myself envisioning scenes from the more gentle moments of a story about Dracula, adding a whimsical layer to the experience.

Koffee Cantata
Last but not least, I must mention the awesome Koffee Cantata. Firstly, I’d like to say that at times I find myself looking for particular sounds and beats to draw me into the complexities beyond the surface melodies and harmonies. Other times, it’s the way a performer gestures asthey sing or play an instrument.

The one time I was hooked by neither of those two was the moment they had the lead vocalists in the Koffee Cantata act out the entire relationship andinteraction between the mother and father. Those individuals may be students, but I’d give them a degree for the excellent performance they put up. Watching this made me contemplate more on the broader societal reflections I could draw from the story as I recalled how my extended family culture has transitioned from a highly patriarchal one to a more egalitarian one in the past 200 years, with girls being discouraged from pursuing beyond the 4th grade to my parents and myself motivating my sisters and coaching them on how to optimize their studying methods.

Additionally, the breakfast was delicious and wonderful. It reminded me of the ‘bread and circuses’ act policy of the Roman Empire – keeping the people fed and entertained at the same time. As the Koffee Cantata concert demonstrated, the entertainment doesn’t have to be gladiators and apex predators in a colosseum for the combination to work. Therefore, when the director mentioned they will keep having it again in the 2026 BachFest, I was more than thrilled for the people who will be able to experience such an eye-catching and substantive concert.

To conclude, my first time in the Salle Pologme was a wonderful four (4) hours I’ll never forget.

 

Present Day
This particular blog entry utilizes a more ‘in the moment’ perspective as compared to hindsight, given it takes inspiration from my live notes during the excellent performance of the St.John Passion.

Somehow, we found ourselves at the Nikolai instead of the Thomaskirche at 8 PM on June 15, 2025. The schedule contained an error. In hindsight, my time in Leipzig featured several fun and not-so-fun errors that made the experience akin to my daily life, even though four (4) weeks was such a short time. Without over-elaborating, that is good.

It took the entire class a few minutes to figure out where we were supposed to be seated, but it was worth it. We had better seats this time. Despite it being a bit cold, it helped me appreciate what I was about to witness even more.

I like to think this was an example of John Wooden’s saying in action: “Good things take time, as they should. We shouldn’t expect good things to happen overnight. Getting something too easily or too soon can cheapen the outcome.”

With that said, here is what I thought of the St.John’s Passion live in the moment. Therefore, note that the transition between the present and past tense is sometimes literal minutes:

The first movement’s flute and woodwind melodies had a certain sweetness, while the violins added depth that evoked the gentle sway of a tram gliding around a bend. The St. John Passion started on a joyful note, but I soon realized how vital the conductors are in ensuring a seamless performance. I became intrigued by their hand signals—what they signify and how they communicate with each musician to convey what to do and how to do it.

Come to think of it, I will ask Ruth more about this and look up the conductor’s way on YouTube as well.

As we delved into a 2C recitative amid reflections on Jesus of Nazareth, I noticed that some sections I previously referred to as “arias” or “chorales” in my live reports from the first two concerts might have been “recitatives,” especially the former. This recitative was dramatic, leading into a chorale that carried a melancholic tone. I hypothesize that I would have grasped this more clearly if I knew more German.gpt

The pauses, or caesuras, stood out once again, providing moments for reflection—a feature that an 18th-century audience would have fully appreciated. I found myself using fewer filler words today; our class discussions had given me plenty of material to draw from during the first concert. Nevertheless, if I notice anything noteworthy as we move forward, I’ll be sure to jot it down. I should look into that Khan Academy item soon.

By the time we reached the 7th aria, I could feel how these pieces encapsulated the thoughts and emotions of an 18th-century believer. They focused less on recounting events and more on conveying introspection. The subsequent 8th recitative mentioned Simon Peter and another disciple following Jesus, creating a poignant moment. The 9th aria struck deep, with the flute emphasizing the significance of this critical point while the soloist conveyed the deep feelings an 18th-century believer had for their Lord.

Listening to the performance while following along with the script, which included an English translation, enriched my analysis. The powerful bass in the 11th aria and chorale demonstrated skillful repetition, spotlighting the emotion and anxiety present in the singers’ reflections. The alternating repetitions in the 12th chorale created an accusatory effect, evoking the desperate pressure Peter must have felt while responding.

The 13th aria captured the intense emotions of an 18th-century believer. The instrumental backdrop for this piece was fascinating; while it suggested a whirlwind of feelings, it didn’t come across as sad to me. Instead, it felt more neutral—perhaps reminiscent of the initial ‘sad truth’ perceived by the 18th-century believer.

Part one concluded with a quiet instrumental tone, yet the choir’s bold proclamation was unmistakable, signaling the beginning of the second part. The 16th B section further elaborated on the determined delivery from the crowd. Meanwhile, the 17th choral section evoked a heartfelt sentiment, aided by the slow pace and nuanced background accompaniment that facilitated contemplation.

In the 18A recitative, I noticed how the individual portraying Jesus animatedly gestured, sharing insights not just with one person, but with many, as if embodying that 1st-century moment. The following 18B recitative got delivered in much the same way as 16B, and although we had only progressed through two sections, it felt as if significant time had passed.

As we moved from 19 to 21A to 21B, the chorale approached, coinciding with the moment of the crown of thorns and purple robe. The delivery was striking, capturing a sense of ironic mockery that could easily mislead someone lacking context into interpreting it as a joyful proclamation.

In 21G, it was impressive how the performers maintained evocative sounds, drawing out notes like “haaaaaaa” for an extended period, blending seamlessly with the instruments and lyrics.

Back to Hindsight

Over that weekend, I watched the Khan Academy introduction to music theory series that Ruth (Dr. Ochs) recommended. I got a much better understanding of timings in signatures and notes (with or without dots). This series helped me immensely when I tried singing. Thank you, Ruth!

To conclude, the St.John Passion is the last of an exciting first trilogy of concerts and seminars that familiarized me immensely with the fundamentals of Bach’s Music. Then, I wondered what the rest would hold for us. What do you think?

On Friday, June 13, 2025, at 8 PM, I had the unique opportunity to experience a performance of Bach’s cantatas, notably one titled “Nr. 20 Kantaten zum Sonntag Jubilate.”

From the very beginning, the atmosphere felt theatrical, brought to life by the soprano’s singing alongside the first instrumental soloist. The initial chorale was captivating; after an energetic opening, there was a noticeable slowdown, allowing me to savor moments of caesura. It was during these reflective pauses that I truly began to appreciate the power of sound—so soothing and relaxing that my mind hovered just beneath the threshold of peaceful sleep. I yearned to understand the language of the music, and though my comprehension was limited, I was eager to learn. I envisioned a day when I could fully embrace the depth of Bach’s work.


As the performance continued, I perceived the serene beginning as a subtle river, flowing gently with waves of melody rather than explosive crescendos. When the singers joined for the first chorale, the emotional intensity surged, igniting a fire deep within my heart. The sound swept above my diaphragm, filling the space with sweetness and calm, lingering in the air like an unspoken presence. The soloists created an atmosphere that allowed me the freedom to process my thoughts, evoking a sense of ease amid their performance. 

It was remarkable to observe one of theviolinists skillfully reading their music while effortlessly gracing us with smiles. The connection between academic study and musical performance became increasingly unclouded, and I found myself reflecting on how dedicated scholarship can deepen our understanding of such a rich heritage. 

The applause following each movement was infectious. The energy in the room transformed with every pause, urging spontaneous cheers of encouragement as the violinist took brief moments of respite. The rhythmic backdrop of the orchestra flowed seamlessly, inviting us on a journey that felt endless, full of discoveries and realizations. Even the most irritable spirits could be comforted by the mesmerizing “bum bau bum” section.

I marveled at how musicians resisted the temptation to relax despite the soothing quality of the music. Each section held its softness yet remained controlled, allowing me to discern the nuances of major and minor harmonies. Observing one of the singers, who walked in place as laughter echoed softly among the audience, I contemplated the production’s effort to connect modern listeners with those who experienced Bach’s music in the 18th century, especially during those cold winter mornings when survival was the priority.



My thoughts drifted to the question of whether they ever considered how the conditions of the past—temperature, seating arrangements, historical context—might have influenced the experience of the music. Yet, here we were, viewing it all through a contemporary lens that could never fully capture the past. It was heartening to realize that scholarship sought to bridge this gap, emphasizing the importance of appreciating the music within its original context.

As I continued typing my thoughts, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the unwavering stamina of the vocal soloist. Even amidst my focused observation, the grand pauses that erupted throughout the performance drew me in. For the first time, I noticed how one blows the flute from the side, not the end; it struck me that there were over 1,500 musical instruments in the world. This orchestral mosaic was a testament to the classification that my high school teacher, Mr. Nyathi, had encouraged us to comprehend. Seeing the brass, woodwind, string, and percussion instruments come together was a beautiful realization, far beyond simply earning a good grade in a niche subject.

The transitions between instrumental and vocal soloists added layers to the overall experience. Amazingly, when I thought the performance might draw to a calm conclusion, the music would swell again, leaving me in awe of the heavenly artistry unfolding before me.

That night, my roommates explained to me that groups of performers go in the order “solo, duet, trio, quartet.” I then discovered “quintet, sextet,” and even more! Having been able to draw back on everything we’d learned in the first music seminar with Dr. Heller made me realize that I was truly learning, even if I barely knew how to read sheet music or analyze the performance as my professor did in class.

As a sports enthusiast and chess commentator, I’ve always appreciated how field-specific terms capture the core of the activity performed. My perspective is that once you know those, you not only describe how you feel or see, but how you believe it comes alive, which is another whole realm where captivating discussions also spring from. However, as Gabrielle said to me the next day, “You have to start somewhere.” I agreed.

I’ve been reflecting a bit on the impact of endowments and how they allowed for two performances every [interval] from 1753 to 1928, only interrupted by hyperinflation. The influence of that endowment on music over the years is truly staggering; it transformed so much and left a lasting legacy that astounded me.

On a related note, when I consider the financial aspects, I can’t help but think about the social mobility it provided to some of the boys in the choir. It opened up opportunities for them in significant ways.

In his cantata BWV12, I found it fascinating to observe where he made edits. He composed without a pencil, so it’s interesting to notice where he had ideas written down before setting them to music.

It was intriguing to see that Bach didn’t issue strict dictates; instead, he offered directives to the university students in his inner circle who were involved in poetry. He would ask them to take one specific Lutheran hymn with eight stanzas and rearrange it. They were to keep the first and last stanzas intact while reworking the others into four or five movements. I find this collaborative approach quite intriguing!

The tram system is impressive. It’s efficient and clean, smoothly operating alongside buses, trucks, and cars on the roads. I initially wondered why a city would invest in both buses and trams, considering they often run on the same streets. However, I realized that each mode of transport likely serves different purposes and meets unique needs that the government intends to address.

Experiencing this level of Mini Metro in real life has been nothing short of amazing. I appreciate how the digital boards at the stations and inside the trams are precise—something many other countries could learn from. It has been so straightforward to navigate that I didn’t need my phone until yesterday to determine which station I should get off at.

Additionally, the feature that allows tram doors to open at specific stations with a button click shows how considerate the system is of people’s time.

Overall, I love how easy it is to get around the city. I’m pleasantly surprised by how quickly I’ve become familiar with the tram routes. In less than a week, I’ve learned to navigate from Brittestraße, past the Hauptbahnhof, Nordplatz (where we learn), and Reudnitz (where I stay).

We found a statue of the legend on our tour yesterday.

“Passage” like this are found in Paris. For this reason, Leipzig is sometimes called “Little Paris”, although I would argue Paris is “Large Leipzig” since we’re here.