29/10/2025
: SCHEMA Feature
𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐦ä𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐬: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥
The theater fell into a sacred kind of silence, the kind that happens when a hundred hearts hold their breath together. Then, a single note rose, trembling, golden, alive. And in that moment, the night became eternal.
The Saint Louis University Concert Orchestra graced the stage of the Fr. Joseph Van den Daelen Center for Culture and the Arts Theater with their latest masterpiece, Vermächtnis (The Secrets Untold), last October 27.
A German word meaning legacy or bequest, Vermächtnis spoke not only of inheritance but of memory, the kind of legacy passed down through the language of music. It was an evening where sound became story, and every note felt like a heartbeat from generations before.
𝐈. 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞
The night opened with Johannes Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 5, a burst of fire and festivity that instantly drew the audience in. Strings flickered with passion, the rhythm leapt with joy, and suddenly, the air itself seemed to dance.
Then came Dmitri Shostakovich’s Waltz No. 2, haunting and elegant, like a dream that remembers both love and loss. The orchestra glided through its melancholy, wrapping the audience in nostalgia. Ravel’s Pavane pour une Infante Défunte followed, soft and solemn as moonlight. Each chord whispered reverence, a requiem for beauty that endures.
𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞
As the lights dimmed, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake took flight, wings of violin and cello soaring through the air. Its melody was both familiar and eternal, tragedy veiled in elegance. Karl Jenkins’ Palladio then entered like architecture in sound, precise, grand, balanced. The musicians became a living monument of harmony and form.
And then came Antonio Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons, a piece that shimmered with both stillness and storm. The violins crackled like frost underfoot, sharp yet delicate, as if the air itself were turning to glass. Beneath its chill, though, pulsed a quiet warmth, the kind that glows in candlelight against the cold. It was winter, not as an ending, but as a moment of reflection, a season that whispered of resilience, of beauty that endures even in silence.
𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬
Yet Vermächtnis was not just a tribute to European masters, it was also a love letter to home. The orchestra shifted to pieces rooted in Filipino spirit: Duel in the Mist, Bagong Paso Doble No. 6, Hustle & Bustle of Ormos, The Moon is Bright & the Wind is Calm, and Sampaguita.
Bagong Paso Doble No. 6 strutted with sunlight and pride, bold brass carrying its rhythm like a parade of joy. Hustle & Bustle of Ormos followed, lively, playful, capturing the rhythm of modern life. But it was The Moon is Bright & the Wind is Calm that stilled the room, serene, wistful, like a lullaby whispered to the night.
And then came Sampaguita. Simple. Fragrant. Pure. It was distinctly Filipino, a reminder that beauty doesn’t always shout; sometimes it just breathes.
𝐈𝐕. 𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝
For their finale, the orchestra performed Atin Cu Pung Singsing. The opening notes shimmered with belonging, a melody that carried centuries of heritage. Voices from the audience quietly joined in, humming along to a song older than any of them, yet still alive. It was no longer just music, it was memory.
When the final chord faded, the silence that followed was thick with awe. It was not the quiet of ending, but the stillness of something sacred being passed on, a legacy sealed in resonance.
𝐈𝐕. 𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝
Vermächtnis (The Secrets Untold) drew the audience into something deeper, a remembrance, a pulse of history made audible. Through every rise and rest of its melodies, it spoke of how legacies endure: not through marble or memory alone, but through the echoes that linger in us, long after the final note has fallen silent.
That night, music became a memory. The orchestra didn’t just perform, they remembered for us all. And as people stepped out into the cool October evening, one truth lingered softly in the air: the truest Vermächtnis is not what we hold onto, but what continues to sing, long after we are gone.
by Aura Vienn Give
Photos by Van Revson Domingo
