The greatest pleasure for a music lover is the discovery of a hidden gem, a well-kept treasure among the vast array of musical works from all eras, which today are almost perfectly and readily available at the click of a button on a platform. On the other hand, there’s also the pleasure of the ‘expert’ (if we can call them that) who grants access to such a revelatory masterpiece to people they know will likely enjoy discovering it.

I experienced this beautiful feeling a few days ago when, among a specific group of high-caliber individuals, I had the opportunity to tell them about one of the lesser-known operas, a work that has been recorded but perhaps somewhat forgotten and has flown under the radar, as we say today. I’m referring to the work “The Dwarf” (Der Zwerg) by Alexander von Zemlinsky, a true masterpiece of 20th-century music.

It is a great pleasure to see people interested in hearing something new that was written about 100 years ago and to be pleasantly surprised to discover it. I recognize, of course, that this pleasure is almost narcissistic on the part of the expert. We like it when people who are available and open to listening, hear for the first time from your lips (or from what you present on a screen) about a work, and your narration encourages them to discover it. And when they return to thank you for the wonderful work you suggested… that’s where the true satisfaction lies for what you believe in.

Many times we talk about forgotten composers, about works that did not receive the recognition they deserved at the time of their creation; we always try to discover a lost gem. A basic prerequisite, of course, is that this work, this gem I described above, must have endured at least minimally over time and have been recorded or videotaped at least once. There, the courage of those re-creators is needed, who will take the trouble to study it, stage it, and finally present it to us. This is not an easy decision and often contradicts cultural norms that demand increasingly well-known repertoire works be performed in theaters and concert halls. Certainly, many more people will go to see Dvořák’s 9^th Symphony compared to his 4^th Symphony, which does not enjoy the same fame as the latter. But to grasp the greatness of a composer, it is worth listening to his 4^th Symphony, which is not as well-known. It is often there that the facets of his talent, which are continuously highlighted in his more famous works, unfold and are discovered.

One piece of advice I often give is to seek out other works by an otherwise popular composer. Among any indifferent works (yes, everyone has written indifferent or even bad works), you might discover a small gem where the facets of a creator’s greatness, celebrated in the pages of another, more popular work, are revealed. And this discovery will bring double and triple satisfaction because it will mean that you are now one of those who know how to distinguish the moments where their talent is celebrated and evolves.