Transnational Love: BPYO Concert I at the Teatro del Bicentenario

Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra || Tour of Possibility in México

Benjamin Zander

June 16, 2025 | Jen Mabray

Dearest Mexico,

We. Love. You.

And in León, we felt your love.

Our multinational identities did not stand in opposition—they stood together: as brothers, sisters, cousins, neighbors. Friends.

As an international orchestra, the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra has performed across the globe—in Europe, Brazil, South America, Greece, and South Africa. But performing here, in your exquisitely designed Teatro del Bicentenario, everything felt different.

Beyond the architectural beauty, there was something deeper: a sense of warmth, elegance, and ease. This experience meant something more.

And we believe it’s because of you.

Our debut concert was evocative, dignified, and rooted in transnational belonging. Together, we transcended borders—imaginary, naturalized, linguistic, spiritual, and geographic.

The Teatro del Bicentenario, a crown jewel of Mexico’s cultural landscape since its opening in 2010, stands as both an architectural marvel and a monument to artistic excellence—a tribute to Mexico’s bicentennial independence from Spanish rule in 1810.

And yet, Ben noticed something rare—perhaps unique. Your hall offers acoustic clarity in the bass section unlike anything we’ve encountered elsewhere in the world. In your space, the lowest voices didn’t disappear—they resonated. They traveled. They sang. The basses bloomed with a presence and warmth that filled every corner.

This is not just a concert venue.

The Teatro del Bicentenario is an instrument in itself—a magnificent gem.

Before the first note was played, Maestro Benjamin Zander—international music ambassador and conductor of one of the world’s most prestigious youth orchestras—sent a ripple through the sold-out audience in León. He rose to honor the fourteen young musicians from the Orquesta Juvenil Eduardo Mata in Mexico City who had joined BPYO in this international exchange.

Mexicans were not only our audience—they were represented, celebrated, honored. Treasured. Chosen.

In a moment that transcended language and nationality, someone in the audience responded with unmistakable pride:

“¡Ellos son nuestros niños, y pertenecen aquí!”
(These are our youth, and they belong here!)

The monumental program began with Gustav Mahler’s towering Symphony No. 6, followed by Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2, conducted with radiant artistry by Alfonso Piacentini, and concluded with Elgar’s transcendent “Nimrod” from the Enigma Variations.

To program Mahler’s Sixth for a youth orchestra is, frankly, audacious. And for eighty relentless minutes—spanning four expansive movements—the BPYO delivered an evocative, searing display of technical command and emotional range.

The first movement—a war march—casts Mahler as a hero in his own tragic opera: struggling against the forces of fate, striving to better the world despite setbacks and sorrow. Amid the conflict, a tender love theme emerges for his beloved Alma.

Her theme echoes playfully throughout the orchestra. Cowbells—yes, cowbells—rung by Sofia Gonzales, along with Cole Turkel’s clarinet solo and Mauricio Martínez’s French horn, gave the theme a nostalgic, pastoral shimmer. The violins and violas swayed in a courtship dance, deepened and grounded by the basses’ rich resonance.

If two people are willing, love can take root—even in the most brutal conditions. But the timpani, played with gravity by Camden Briggs, remind us: this is not a love story. It is a reckoning with life’s brutality.

The second movement followed with unsettling strangeness—its syncopated rhythms and harmonic tension laced with erotic undercurrents. A seductive clarinet dance led us into dangerous beauty.

The third movement—a sublime Adagio in E-flat major—may well contain the most heartbreakingly beautiful passages in all of Mahler’s work. Concertmaster Michael Fisher’s violin cried with aching fragility, as if in mourning for a world we could almost touch.

And then came the colossal finale.

Here we find Mahler at his most tormented, most prophetic. For thirty-four harrowing minutes, Ben led us through an emotionally and physically exhausting interpretation of trauma, punctuated by three devastating hammer blows, executed with chilling precision by Javier Cartagena.

Before the piece began, Ben prepared us:

– The loss of Mahler’s conducting post, due to antisemitism.
– The death of his four-year-old daughter, Maria.
– The diagnosis of a heart condition that would claim his life before age fifty.

All this—somehow—composed into one staggering work.

And yet, we were not left in despair.

If this page could glow, it would radiate in color for Danzón No. 2 by Arturo Márquez. This beloved national treasure was conducted by the magnetic Alfonso Piacentini, whose Puerto Rican roots deepened the piece’s pan-Latin resonance.

Before raising his baton, Alfonso addressed the audience in Spanish. Gasps and applause filled the room as they realized: An orchestra from the United States had come to perform their second national anthem.

And then—he danced.

Not metaphorically. Alfonso’s body became a living expression of rhythm—his hips pulsed, feet glided, arms painted the air. His gestures animated Michael’s sensual violin and Sebastián Haros’ dazzling trumpet solo.

Seated beside me, Alfonso’s mother wiped away tears and whispered:
“I have no idea where he got those moves!”

Elgar’s “Nimrod” closed the program—an offering of intimacy and reverence. It is difficult to capture the emotional weight of that moment. But what passed between stage and audience was clear: a shared humanity, ignited by music.

This concert was many things: Historic. Electric. Intimate. Transcendent. But above all, it was healing. As an ambassador of musical humanism, Ben’s words remain:

“We are neighbors. We do not all speak the same language, but we speak the language of love—through music. At eighty-six, I am not naïve—my time will soon come. But with everything I still have, I give it to you. We truly love you.”

In unscripted reciprocity, a voice from the balcony rose and exclaimed:

“¡Nosotros también lo amamos!”

Written by: Jen Mabray