The year 2024 has seen one of the biggest celebrations yet of Czech music in all its forms across the cultural sphere, with something of a grand finale taking place here at Carnegie Hall with the Czech Philharmonic under the baton Chief Conductor and Music Director Semyon Bychkov.

The Philharmonic’s concerts form the backbone of a seven-concert spotlight on the Year of Czech Music at the Hall, which also includes The Met Orchestra Chamber Ensemble (January 13, 2025), the Prague Philharmonic Choir (December 4 and 6), and Pavel Haas Quartet (December 7).

There have been previous years of Czech music dating back to 1924, when Bedřich Smetana’s centenary was celebrated. Though he was called the “father of Czech opera” (having composed eight works in the form), it is his magnum opus Má vlast (My Fatherland) that is regarded as the bible of Czech music, mixing sentiment and pride.

Each decade since, these celebrations of Czech music have expanded in scope to include a whole constellation of composers whose anniversaries (of birth or death) have been brought together again this year: In addition to Smetana, there is Václav Tomášek (born 250 years ago), Leoš Janáček (born 170 years ago), Josef Suk (born 150 years ago), Antonín Dvořák (died 120 years ago), and Bohuslav Martinů (died 65 years ago), among others.

Also included is the fascinating Brno-born composer Pavel Haas, who was murdered at Auschwitz 80 years ago this fall. As it happens, the two post-war composers programmed by Carnegie Hall also fit this anniversary pattern, with Petr Eben (born 95 years ago) and Jan Novák (died 40 years ago). Nor should we forget one of the greatest conductors of the 20th century, Rafael Kubelík, who was also a composer and whose birth dates back 110 years ago this past summer.

Kubelík was born indeed just one day after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, an event that triggered the First World War. Though that war ended with the formation of an independent Czechoslovakia as one of its outcomes, it also sowed the seeds of further conflict. Many previous years of Czech music thus took place in a divided Europe; while the world sadly feels just as binary now, at least the barriers have come down around Bohemia and Moravia.

Today, the Czech lands are recognized by most as the geographic heart of Europe— music lovers might say the spiritual heart, too. The world has progressed since Shakespeare in The Winter’s Tale conjured up a coastline for Bohemia. Whether he did so out of ignorance or with irony (or perhaps purely to reinforce the fairy-tale atmosphere of the play) is something scholars still debate. But while almost everyone would now agree that the heart of Europe is to be found there, giving rise to a distinctly recognizable Czech spirit, its geographic position has also laid it open to foreign interference.

“What contributes to its uniqueness is the fact that having been so long dominated by the Austro-Hungarian Empire and then by the Nazis and Soviets, the country then finally became truly independent—hopefully forever,” says Bychkov. “I think this all created the deep need to preserve a very special sense of identity. So in a way, such historical domination also stimulated creativity."

It is certainly striking that such a relatively small country should have produced so many great composers; in addition to the traditional “Big Four” of Smetana, Dvořák, Janáček, and Martinů, another towering figure who is not always included in surveys of Czech music is Gustav Mahler. Many forget that his roots are actually in Bohemia, rather than Austria itself. “It’s the most complex case of, let’s say, human and artistic DNA one can have,” observes Bychkov, “because the roots are one thing, but the trunk of the tree has acquired layers of Austrian and Germanic culture that has, in turn, enriched those roots and made Mahler the unique figure that he is."

There are indeed polkas buried beneath the surface of Mahler’s symphonies, dance being one unmistakable impulse in so much of Czech music. This also extends to the three great concertos— for piano, violin, and cello—by Dvořák and featured in the Czech Philharmonic’s performances at Carnegie Hall with Daniil Trifonov, Gil Shaham, and Yo-Yo Ma, respectively. “I can say that one thing about the Czechs is that they kind of vibrate when they hear music,” says Bychkov. “It can be any kind of music—classical or non-classical—but it naturally includes folk music. It’s something that their nervous systems are very attuned to, and it creates this special sort of musicality.”

And if music lovers everywhere seem to adore Czech music, it is striking how (in the English- speaking world at least) that love affair began with Dvořák’s travels—his visits to Great Britain in the 1880s and his later sojourn in New York City, where from 1892 to 1895 he was director of the National Conservatory of Music. More than most foreign composers who settled (even temporarily) in the United States, he actively sought to engage with American music. “Dvořák was so in touch with the music of his own land, that it was only natural he would want to connect with American music when he was here,” says Bychkov. (It’s worth noting that two of the other featured Czech composers— Mahler and Martinů—also lived in New York City for a time.)

As 2024’s Year of Czech Music draws to a close, there are countless other rewarding composers—not least Zdeněk Fibich and Vítězslava Kaprálová— to explore beyond these programs at Carnegie Hall. But through this focus, audiences get closer to a full and proper recognition of Mahler’s German-Jewish-Bohemian context, not to mention a realization that Czech music does not have to be in the Czech language itself, though the case of Janáček’s Glagolitic Mass in Old Church Slavonic—a precursor to today’s Czech—is a special one.

The search for Czech identity—as proved by Smetana and those who followed him, composing some of the most life-affirming music ever written—remains relevant today.

Visit carnegiehall.org/czech to learn more.