Mendelssohn's world-famous violin concerto and one of Dvořák's most famous symphonies will be performed at the Budapest Festival Orchestra's concert in Ferrara. Renaud Capuçon, a returning guest of the BFO will be the soloist of the concerto. The former concertmaster of Claudio Abbado will use his 1737 Guarnieri violin to share the deep and nuanced tones of the piece, while displaying the virtuosity which makes him a favorite of audiences and critics. After the concerto with its technically challenging opening movement, a singing aria and a finale reminiscent of A Midsummer Night's Dream, the audience will be able to enjoy Dvořák's sometimes airy, sometimes passionate piece presenting an unexpected main theme, and finally finding its way from a minor key to a bright major key.

Following his violin concerto, composed at the age of thirteen – not bad for someone of his age! – Mendelssohn returned to the genre only after more than a decade and a half. His work was hindered by other projects and illnesses, and he only finished the piece six years later, in 1845. Despite being an outstanding violinist himself, the composer relied on the help of his violinist friend Ferdinand David for technical matters throughout; the piece was eventually dedicated to him. The result was Mendelssohn’s final major orchestral work: a simply structured, yet thoroughly innovative, violin concerto. Instead of an orchestral introduction, the soloist kicks off the beginning of the first movement, and the virtuoso cadenza also comes earlier than what would be suggested by the format of the movement. It is not only the violinist who is impatient in this piece: the three movements, also relate to one another thematically and flow seamlessly with harmonic connections, without any pauses. After the slow movement, evoking the world of Songs Without Words, the piece concludes with a joyous finale, introduced with a fanfare of trumpets.

Many say Symphony No. 7 is Dvořák’s finest piece of music. After hearing Brahms’ Symphony No. 3, the composer decided to return to the genre following a hiatus of five years. “‘There is not a single superfluous note in the work,” he wrote to his publisher. The piece simultaneously features heated Czech political passions and the composer’s peaceful, harmonious love for his homeland. The unexpectedly quiet and lyrical opening of the first movement came to the composer at a train station in Prague: the slow movement represents Dvořák grieving for his mother, who had recently died, and for his eldest daughter, who passed away at a young age. After the vivacious yet melancholy scherzo, the piece concludes with an exotic finale.