A Centenary Opening with Fazıl Say and BIPO

Borusan Istanbul Philharmonic Orchestra (BIPO)’s opening concert on October 12, 2023 was not an ordinary season opener. It was framed around the centenary of the Turkish Republic, and that already gave the evening a different kind of atmosphere. Season openings usually carry some excitement on their own, but this one had an added sense of occasion. The concert was not only the beginning of BIPO’s new season; it was also part of a larger cultural moment, one connected to memory, history, and the question of how music can speak to a country’s first hundred years.

The program was simple in structure but strong in meaning. The first half featured Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, with Fazıl Say as soloist and Can Okan conducting. After the intermission came the world premiere of Say’s Symphony No. 6, “A 100-Year-Old Child,” commissioned by Borusan Istanbul Philharmonic Orchestra. That contrast between Mozart and a brand-new Turkish symphony could have felt unusual, but in the hall it made sense. The Mozart gave the evening balance and elegance before the heavier emotional weight of the second half.

Fazıl Say’s presence at the piano always changes the atmosphere of a concert. Even before he starts playing, there is a certain expectation in the room. With Mozart, I was especially curious because Say is a pianist with a very personal musical identity. His playing often has sharpness, clarity, and a strong sense of character. In the 21st Piano Concerto, he brought out the music’s brightness without making it sound too polished or distant.

The first movement had a clean, open energy. Can Okan and the orchestra gave the concerto a firm but not overly heavy foundation, and Say’s entrance felt natural rather than theatrical. What I enjoyed most was the sense of conversation between the piano and the orchestra. Mozart can sometimes sound too neat if everything is treated only as elegance, but here there was enough life in the phrasing to keep the music moving.

The famous Andante was, for me, the emotional center of the first half. It is one of those pieces of music that almost everyone recognizes in some way, even if they do not know the concerto by name. Because of that, it can be difficult to make it feel fresh. Say played it with simplicity and a kind of inward calm. He did not stretch it too much or turn it into something sentimental. The melody was allowed to float, and the orchestra supported it gently. It was not the most surprising interpretation, but it was sincere and beautifully shaped.

The final movement brought back the concerto’s energy. Say’s playing had the quickness and brightness the music needs, and the orchestra responded well. As a first half, the Mozart worked very well: graceful, clear, and enjoyable. It also reminded me how effective a classical concerto can be in a live setting when it is played with both control and personality.

After the intermission, the focus shifted completely. Fazıl Say’s Sixth Symphony, “A 100-Year-Old Child,” was the reason the evening felt historically specific. The title itself is striking. It suggests both age and innocence, experience and vulnerability. Thinking of the Republic as a “100-year-old child” is a powerful image, because it avoids a simple heroic narrative. It suggests something more complicated: growth, disappointment, hope, struggle, and unfinished possibility.

The four movement titles already gave the audience a kind of emotional map: Disappointed People, Anatolian Utopia, Inner Battle Against Ignorance, and Undaunted Souls – Finale. This is not abstract music pretending to exist outside history. It clearly wants to say something. Whether one agrees with every gesture or not, the ambition of the work was obvious.

The first movement had a dark and serious tone. It felt like an opening statement rather than a gradual beginning. There was tension in the orchestral writing, and BIPO handled the large forces with focus. The second movement, Anatolian Utopia, was perhaps the most immediately evocative. Say’s music often carries traces of Anatolian rhythm and color, and here those elements felt connected to a broader symphonic language. It was not simply folk material placed inside an orchestra; it had a more personal and dramatic quality.

The third movement, Inner Battle Against Ignorance, was the most direct in its emotional language. At times, the music felt almost confrontational, as if it wanted to push the listener rather than merely invite them. I found this effective, though also intense. The final movement, Undaunted Souls, gave the symphony a sense of movement toward resistance and persistence rather than easy celebration. That mattered. For a centenary piece, it would have been easy to write something purely triumphant. Say chose a more complicated emotional route.

Can Okan conducted the evening with seriousness and control. In the Mozart, he allowed space and clarity; in the symphony, he held together a larger and more dramatic structure. BIPO sounded committed, especially in the second half, where the orchestra had to carry the weight of a new work being heard for the first time.

I left the concert feeling that I had attended something more than a regular performance. Not every moment of the symphony stayed with me equally, but the event itself did. There was something meaningful about hearing a new Turkish symphony, written for the Republic’s centenary, performed by BIPO in Istanbul with Fazıl Say at the center of the evening. It felt like a concert tied to its time and place, and that is not something every concert can achieve.