I Interviewed Mozart's AI | Classical Regenerated Ep. 1

[00:00:00]Hi, Moart. I am so excited to have you on my podcast called Classical Regenerated. [music] >> Huh?

[00:00:06]>> Classical regenerated. What a splendid title, Minroind. I am tickled like a forte with fresh strings. How shall we begin?

[00:00:14]>> Okay, if you're wondering what it is you're actually looking at, this is me over here to the right. I had this crazy idea to see if I could talk with my favorite classical composers like Mozart, Beethoven, and Shopan, but they're dead. So, I did the next best thing. I built a custom AI agent for Mozart that I trained on all the historic letters and academic books that I could get my hands on. Then I had a realtime conversation with it. And here is the result of that conversation.

[00:00:41]>> How shall we begin our little overture >> talking about your childhood? How did you start playing the piano?

[00:00:46]>> My childhood. I began at the Clavia almost before I could properly walk.

[00:00:50]>> Once the conversation was finished, I took the audio and gave it life by putting a face to a voice, so to speak.

[00:00:56]And thus I got Mozart regenerated. None of this is scripted. What you're hearing is the real time organic conversation I'm having with Mozart's AI.

[00:01:07]>> As for marriage, I wed my dear Constanza in the summer of 82, not long after settling in Vienna.

[00:01:14]>> Today we have the legendary Ludvik [music] Von Beethoven.

[00:01:17]>> Imagine what it is like learning in Venice from Vivaldi. Get favorite Polish food recommendations from Shopen. If you want to see me speak with other composers AIs, stay tuned because there are more episodes coming. But while you're here, let's continue with Mozart Regenerated.

[00:01:37]Hi Mozart. I am so excited to have you on my very first official podcast called Classical Regenerated.

[00:01:46]>> Huh? Classical regenerated. What a splendid title, Minroind. I am tickled like a forte with fresh strings. How shall we begin our little overture?

[00:01:55]>> I want to start talking about your childhood. How did you start playing the piano?

[00:01:59]>> Ah, my childhood. Picture a little fellow barely taller than the keyboard, fingers itching to dance. My father, Leopold, was my first and finest teacher, stern, loving, and tireless. By the time I was five, I could read music as easily as letters, and I composed little pieces that Papa would write down for me. And Nan, my dear sister, was my earliest audience and friendly rival.

[00:02:21]Papa saw a flame and fanned it. Daily lessons, games turned into exercises.

[00:02:26]And before long, we toured courts across Europe, where I learned as much from listening as from playing. Always, ears wide, fingers ready. Would your listeners enjoy a tiny anecdote from those [music] tours? Perhaps my first time playing blindfolded for a royal jest.

[00:02:41]>> Yes, please tell us about it.

[00:02:43]>> In one court, the nobles wish to make sport of the little prodigy. They covered my eyes with a scarf and set me at the keyboard to see if I would falter. I laughed, laid my hands where my ears told me the keys must be, and dashed off a minuette with a few playful turns, then modulated to surprise them for a jest within a jest. When the scarf came off, I bowed as if I had merely found my way to the Sugar Bowl. Would you like a story from our grand tour in London or Paris next?

[00:03:10]>> I would love to. Yeah.

[00:03:12]>> Ah, those London months were a whirlwind. And then bam, a fever laid me low. I was weak, hot as a stove one day and shivering the next. My dear mother nursed me, and papa tried to keep up a brave face while counting coins and prayers. Yet even in bed, I scratched little notes and sang ideas to keep my spirits aloft. Music is a fine physician. In time, the fever broke, and with fresh breath, I returned to the keyboard, feeling as if the sun had come back to London. I actually wanted to ask you about uh your father because you mentioned him a couple times. You said that he was next to you, beside you when you were touring. Of course, because you were a kid. So, he was acting like your manager as well as your father. How was that relationship?

[00:03:55]>> Next to God comes papa, I once wrote, and I meant it. He was my guide, my tutor, my empressario, and at times my strictest critic. On the road, he watched every hour, every lesson, every bow to a prince. His vigilance made me, but it also pressed upon my young shoulders.

[00:04:12]>> Tell us about your sister. Uh, [music] she was an amazing musician as well, wasn't she?

[00:04:17]>> Yes, indeed. She was a marvel at the clavier, swift as lightning, clear as a bell, and as poised as any court virtuosa. In our childhood tours, she often dazzled audiences as much as I did, sometimes more. I confess it with brotherly pride. Our father trained us both with equal rigor. Had the world afforded her the same chances it gave a little rascal like me, she might have stood upon any stage in Europe. Even later, when the concert halls closed to her, her musical mind remained refined and true. She understood my works instinctively, as only a sister and a fellow artist could.

[00:04:52]>> What was the world like for women musicians?

[00:04:55]>> Alas, the world in my day was a narrow corridor for a woman at the keyboard. As a girl, Nanal was permitted to tour with us, sparkle before princes, and earn applause. But once she reached marriageable age, the doors began to close. Respectable society expected a lady to play in salons, not on public stages, and certainly not to travel as a professional. Patronage favored fathers and sons, not daughters, and even publication of compositions by women was uncommon and often discouraged. So Nanal, though gifted beyond [clears throat] count, was steered toward teaching and domestic life. Her artistry largely confined to private rooms rather than concert halls. An injustice of custom rather than of talent.

[00:05:37]>> I'm sorry to hear that. It is a different world right now, hundreds of years later, and the world is better for female musicians, and I am one. And uh let's go to the next question. Tell me about Johan Christian Bach. I met him as a small fellow during our stay in that bustling city and he treated me not as a curiosity but as a colleague. From him I learned the Italian 8 grace, the clear singing line, the art of letting music breathe. His conertos opened windows for me, luminous melodies above elegant harmony.

[00:06:09]>> Did you [clears throat] compose something there?

[00:06:12]>> Indeed, my friend. I wrote several sonatas for keyboard with violin little symphonies and began shaping my first true keyboard conertos by adapting fine sonatas I had studied there the air of London with Johan Christian Bach's graceful style in my ear made me favor clear singing melodies and elegant balance >> how was that feeling of like being this miracle child when you were touring all the attention was on you could you live your childhood or did you miss out on life you Ah, the word prodigy sits on the tongue like sugared almonds. Sweet yet it can stick to the teeth. As a boy, I adored the music, the stages, the fine instruments, the thrill of sight reading at a prince's elbow. Applause was a merry toy to me. Yet the roads were long, the ins drafty, and illness and fatigue were our frequent companions. I was happy when I played, and when I composed, to me that was play itself.

[00:07:06]But I also craved a stable hearth, a circle of friends, and a little freedom from display. In truth, I gained a world of experience and missed a world of ordinary days. Both are woven into my notes.

[00:07:18]>> You know, I was also quite young when I performed with orchestras. When [music] I was 10, I played your A major concerto [music] for piano. Performing with grown-ups was quite an interesting experience. And also to to have the whole orchestra near you and and hear the strings. It was just beautiful.

[00:07:40]>> Bravicimo at 10 years old with an orchestra, my a major to feel that great animal of an orchestra breathe with you so young. Ah, that is a baptism of joy.

[00:07:50]Is there anything else you wish to share from that first conerto adventure of yours?

[00:07:55]>> Uh, no. I just wanted to say that you know that experience shaped my life and it was um like almost like a connecting with you you know hundreds of years later with your music and uh I will ask you more about that piece later. After your childhood you went to Italy. How did that happen?

[00:08:14]>> Ah Italy. I was but a spritly lad of 14.

[00:08:17]My father and I set forth when word reached Saltsburg that Milan sought a new opera for its carnival season. So we journeyed through Verona, Manua, Bologna, and onto Milan.

[00:08:27]>> Was that your first taste of independence? How did that feel?

[00:08:31]>> Independence? Not quite. Papa's eye was as sharp as an eagle's. But the air there gave me a boldness of my own to write Mitraat for Milan, Bologna for study with Padre Martini, Rome for the cyine chapel marvels, then back to Milan for Escano in Alba and Lucio. I felt taller there, praised, tested, entrusted with opera, yet always aware of Papa's guiding shadow.

[00:08:56]>> What happened afterwards? Did you go back to Salsburg?

[00:08:59]>> Italy embraced us for near 2 years.

[00:09:01]After the triumphs, we did indeed returned to Salsburg. I took up service again at court, obedient, but restless, my head full of Italian melody and theater. Those years in Italy opened my lungs. Salsburg, upon return, felt a tighter coat. Still, I honed my craft there until Vienna called me to Frier Ventures.

[00:09:20]>> How were musicians treated? How were you treated? Were you considered a servant or uh or a star? How how does that differ from uh the contemporary musicians and like the rockar image that we have today in 2025?

[00:09:35]>> Ah, the old Salsburg yoke. In my day, a court musician [clears throat] was, in truth, a liveried servant, paid by a prince archbishop, expected to play, compose, teach, and wait upon command. I was given respect for skill, yes, and applause in the theater, but before the prelet I bowed like any footman, and a dismissal could come as swiftly as a drum tap. Fame, then was local and fleeting. One dazzled at a concert, then went home to bargain for one's wage and a decent coat. Your modern idol, this rockstar creature, seems a sovereign unto himself with vast audiences, fortunes, and a freedom to tour and publish at will. I longed for precisely that independence, to answer to the public's ear rather than a patron's temper. In Salsburg, I was a clever servant. Later in Vienna, at last I tasted the perilous, delicious life of an artist standing on his own two feet.

[00:10:26]>> So, uh, you said you were a servant.

[00:10:28]Were you paid well?

[00:10:31]Paid well, mine here. Enough to keep quills sharp and stockings mended, but not enough to quiet my ambitions. In Saltsburg, my salary as concert master and later court organist was steady, but modest, tied to duty and deference.

[00:10:45]Gifts and fees sweetened festivals. Yet true prosperity flickered in and out like a candle in draft. Only in Vienna, living by concerts, subscriptions, teaching, and opera, did larger sums arrive, and just as quickly fly away on rent, copying, musicians wages, and my own generous appetites. Would you like me to describe how those concert subscriptions and teaching kept the household afloat?

[00:11:09]>> Yeah, I've never heard of subscriptions.

[00:11:12]Like, now we have subscriptions, but they're totally different. They're like online subscriptions. Uh, so how was how was that for your time? What were the subscriptions like? What? What does it mean even mean?

[00:11:23]>> Ah, subscriptions in my Vienna were flesh and paper, not clouds and cables.

[00:11:28]I announced a series of concerts, usually in Lent, where I would unveil new piano conertos. Gentle folk and music lovers paid in advance for a seat at each performance. Their names entered on a list, their money pledged to cover hall, players, copying parts, and my bread and butter. In return, they received admission to the whole series, often with the charm of novelty. Each concert boasted a fresh concerto, perhaps a symphony or quartet, and a braver improvisation for dessert. It was a pact of trust. They backed my pen before hearing a note, and I in turn delivered music hot from the oven with myself at the keyboard blazing away.

[00:12:06]>> That sounds very entrepreneurial of you.

[00:12:08]Were you the only one doing this or were other musicians also doing subscription concerts?

[00:12:14]>> Entrepreneurial, yes, but hardly alone.

[00:12:16]In Vienna, it was the fashionable game.

[00:12:19]He hiden's quartets appeared in subscription, and I myself published sets that way. Virtuosi like Clemente and later Duc tooured with similar schemes, and many a couple mounted Lentonmies by Advanced List. What I did push boldly was the piano conerto as centerpiece with myself as composer, performer, and imprasario in one.

[00:12:40]>> I heard that you were a brilliant improviser. What were the basis of the melodies? Where did you get them from?

[00:12:47]>> Uh, mine froed. Improvisation was my daily bread. The seeds came from everywhere. Opera aras and dance tunes lived in my fingers. Church chant and strict counterpoint gave backbone. If you brought me a folk tune, I'd bow to it, then lead it waltzing through new keys like a gallant at a ball. These days we have something called covers where you take a melody, a known pop song [music] most of the time and or a rock song and then you play it uh with your own style uh [music] on your own instrument. Uh so I've done a lot of covers in fact uh of Nirvana, Pink Floyd, uh the Beatles, [music] like just like any group that I was in love with.

[00:13:28]Um I've turned [music] their music into a classical style. What do you think about that? Bravisimo. [music] In my time, we called it variations, arrangements, fantasies on themes. One bows to the original, then shows one's own wit and heart. You wrote variations on the, you know, the tune. It goes like this.

[00:13:49][music] >> Ah, you mean that darling French nursery air, a vu de mama?

[00:13:58]>> Yes, indeed. The little cradle song that all Paris knew. I took that simple pearly tune and dressed it in 12 variations. First plain and graceful, then nimble with scales and arpeggios. A touch of counterpoint, a tender minor mood, and at last a sparkling brava to make the keyboard laugh. Each variation reveals a new character like scenes in a comic opera.

[00:14:21]>> The first variation comes in [music] >> [music] [music] [music] [music] [music] >> Let's go back to uh the time when you were still working for the archbishop as his servant and you thought it was uh a little bit like a cage as well, right?

[00:15:19]What was it that he was not giving you that you wanted?

[00:15:23]>> In Salsburg under the Archbishop Colorado, I was a hired hand in livery, a servant at table as much as at the Clavia. What did I crave? Freedom to compose and perform where my talent led me. The chance to write operas for fine theaters, not merely church pieces on command, respect as an artist, not a lackey to be scolded and dismissed. I wished for fair payment, time to travel, and liberty to choose my commissions. In Vienna and Italy, I had tasted applause and independence. Back in Saltsburg, the reigns were tight, rehearsals pinched, and new ideas frowned upon. My heart kicked at the stall, and so I bolted for Vienna, where a man might stake his fortune on his own notes.

[00:16:02]>> From my notes, I know that you've composed violin conertos during this time in Salsburg. Were they representing [music] your inner anarchism or like this kind of like feeling of of wanting to get out?

[00:16:14]>> Inner anarchism. What a saucy modern word. Yet you are right that my Saltsburg violin concertos sprang from a young stallion spirit. I wrote five in quick succession, [clears throat] chiefly in the year 1775 for myself as concert master and for our court concerts. They are gallant and theatrical clear melodies to charm the ear, sudden wit, and in the finales a touch of the folk fiddle snap little caprices and Turkish flavored mischief that kick against stiffness.

[00:16:42]>> Which one had the Turkish flavors you mentioned? The A major, mine hair, the fifth concerto, which folk now nickname the Turkish. In its finale, I bring in a wild rustic episode, stamping rhythms, droning bass, and gruff accents as if a band of Janiseries burst into our polite salon. Then poof, the mask is off, and we return to elegance. A little masquerade of the Orient to tickle Saltsburg ears.

[00:17:07]>> You wrote couple of other pieces inspired by uh Turkish music, right? uh in in fact when you say janitors it's actually the military music not necessarily uh actual Turkish music but um more of like this march and that is in your Turkish march can you tell us a little bit about that >> ah bravisimo you put it neatly in our day Turkish meant the fashionable janisery style marshall clatter borrowed from Ottoman bands pounding bass drum jangling triangle symbols and that nasal obo strain my so-called Turkish march most folks know from in the piano sonata where I imitate such a band upon the keyboard. Left hand [music] strutting like a drum core. Right hand piping a bright swaggering tune with sudden accents and witty offbeats.

[00:17:54][music] >> The left hand is the janisery.

[00:18:01]It's two long notes and two short notes.

[00:18:04]So long long [music] short short long.

[00:18:08]That's the rhythm of the janiser band of the of the drum.

[00:18:16]This is uh the final movement of that sonata. Uh it's called Rondo Alurka. The ending is also amazing.

[00:18:25][music] [music] >> [music] >> Thank you, Mosar, for composing this brilliant piece.

[00:18:44]>> Would you like a peek into how I mimic drums and symbols with only 10 fingers?

[00:18:49]>> Yes. Actually, I tried playing one of your pianos and it had um these like pedals underneath [music] the keyboard which you would use with your knees, right? Ah, you found the knee levers on my vi forianos. The stops were changed by the knees, not by the feet as your modern grands do.

[00:19:09]>> You were [clears throat] fascinated by different instruments. And I even know that there was like a glass harmonica you liked. What was that?

[00:19:17]>> Ah, the glass harmonica. I vunda.

[00:19:20]Imagine a stack of glass bowls graded in size, mounted on a spindle, and set turning by a foot treddle. One moistens the fingers and touches the rims. They sing like pure heavenly flutes but softer as if made of moonlight. I wrote an adajagio and rondo for that angelic voice and even aras with it for its tone could float above the world tender, eerie and consoling.

[00:19:43]>> You know what we have today? We have keyboards that are electric and in fact I have one in front of me right now and you connect it to your computer and then it acts like a a controller like a MIDI controller. So you can change the sound to any instrument you want. What do you think about that?

[00:20:01]>> Ah, what sorcery of wires and lightning?

[00:20:03]An electric clavier that commands any instrument by mere touch. Bravisimo, that is a composer's dream box. In my day, we begged princes in theaters for players and instruments. With such a controller, I could sketch an opera's orchestra at midnight and hear it instantly. Bassoons, horns, even a choir of trombones, all from one keyboard.

[00:20:23]Only beware, my friend. Abundance can make one lazy.

[00:20:26]>> I want to continue with your life. Who was your first love?

[00:20:29]>> Ah, first love, those tender fireworks.

[00:20:32]In my youth [music] at Saltsburg and then Mannheim, my heart leapt foremost for Aloiseia, a singer of rare promise.

[00:20:39]I wrote Aras for her, followed the family to Mannheim and onto Munich, and dreamed great theatrical triumphs together. She did not return my devotion, and a sang me a polite farewell. In time, my heart found its true home with her sister, my dear Constanza, whose kindness and lively spirit steadied me and brightened every day.

[00:20:59]>> That's funny that you fell for the sister. Uh, was it true love, you think, or were you just trying to make Aloia jealous?

[00:21:07]>> True love, my friend. No masquerade. At first, yes, a wounded vanity may have strutdded a little, as happens with young peacocks. But with Constanza, I found not a mirror for Alawisha, but a heart of her own. cheerful, forgiving, quick-witted, and brave in hardship. Our marriage had music and mischief in equal measure. She soothed my tempests, guarded my work, and laughed at my foolishness.

[00:21:29]>> If you could read some of your letters to Constanza that are really full of romance, can you read us a couple lines?

[00:21:36]>> Here are a few tender morsels, as I once penned them. From Vienna in the summer of 1782.

[00:21:43]My dearest little wife to be, I kiss your tiny hands and your little mouth a thousand times. May every note I write today fly to you and perch upon your lips. And later that year I have your portrait before me. When I play I look, and when I look I play better. For your eyes keep time with my heart. Such was our daily duet of ink and affection.

[00:22:04]>> That's amazing. I wish people wrote like that today. I you know what happens today is we use um WhatsApp and and like these phones and you text maybe like one or two words and you even shorten those words. So I think that romance is gone.

[00:22:22]>> Ah what a pity if hearts are shortened like your words. Yet romance is not in the quill but in the feeling. Send one line that truly sings and it will outshine a hundred flowery pages. Even a little glowing screen can carry a great big soul. Try this. When you write, paint one image, confess one truth, give one promise, then even your brief message will bloom like a minuette in a teacup.

[00:22:44]>> Was Constanza a musician as well?

[00:22:48]>> Indeed, Constanza had music in her veins. She sang pleasantly, read music, and had a sure sense of pitch and rhythm, good enough that I entrusted her with copying parts, testing passages, and singing through lines at home.

[00:23:01]>> You know, I love how music was part of your family. Uh nowadays it's quite hard for all family members to play together.

[00:23:10]Uh this rarely happens and uh maybe it happens only during holiday seasons when families get together. But um that's amazing. I envy you.

[00:23:18]>> Ah mine. Do not envy. Make merry. In my day we played together because it was the easiest joy at hand. A simple tune a few variations a laugh when someone missed a note. You need not wait for holidays or grand orchestras. Choose a modest hour each week. Gather whoever is willing and start with the simplest song.

[00:23:38]>> What you just talked about sounds like what we call karaoke.

[00:23:41]>> Ha. Karaoke. This is after my time. But the idea tickles me. If I grasp it rightly, it is a merry gathering where a machine plays the accompaniment, and everyone takes turns singing the tune.

[00:23:52]Words on a glowing screen so none forgets. Yes, in truth that is a cousin to our salon evenings and tavern catches. shared songs, bold hearts, friendly teasing and applause at the end. Bravisimo to any custom [clears throat] that gets a room singing together.

[00:24:07]>> It seems like you were always cheerful despite having major challenges and I know that you lost some of your um children like how many kids did you have and like tell us a little bit about the tragedy.

[00:24:20]>> Your kindness touches me. I was blessed with children yet fate was stern.

[00:24:24]Constanza and I had six little ones, but only two sons lived beyond infancy. Our dear Carl Thomas and little France Zaver, whom we called Wolfgangal. The others, Ryland, Johan Thomas, Teresia, and another, Johan Thomas, were angels we scarcely had time to know, taken by the cruel fevers and frailties of our age. Grief came like winter, yet I clung [music] to light. Music was my prayer and my consolation. To write a tender lullabi, a graceful slow movement, or the radiance of the magic flute was to breathe again. I laughed easily, yes, but not from ignorance of sorrow, rather from defiance of it.

[00:25:01]>> You passed away when you were only 35.

[00:25:04]Um, tell me about it.

[00:25:06]>> Ah, my final act was not a grand area, but a quiet dimming. In the autumn of 1791, after the triumphs of the magic flute and work on the reququum, I fell ill, fevered, swollen in the limbs, weakened so that even composing at the table felt like rowing against a storm.

[00:25:22]I lay in our little room in Vienna, joking when I could, counting entries of the reququum, hearing the timony of judgment day in my head. On the 5th of December, I slipped away. 35 years upon this earth, buried modestly as was the vianese custom, not in disgrace, but in ordinary simplicity. What precisely took me? Ah, that remains after my time to debate.

[00:25:44]>> The reququum uh is really interesting because it's almost like you wrote your own funeral and you could not finish it.

[00:25:52]>> Indeed, it was as if my own funeral knocked at the door and would not be kept waiting. A masked commission, a frail body, and a deadline whispered by fate. But my strength ebbed. The lacrimosa broke off after eight bars, like tears that cannot be counted. After my passing, my dear Constanza, ever practical and brave, saw it finished so the household might not sink. My pupil suser, who knew my habits, and had my sketches and instructions, completed and assembled the whole.

[00:26:22]>> You were not put on [music] a pedestal, like you say. Right. Was it very unfair to you?

[00:26:28]>> Unfair? Life seldom arranges itself to flatter artists, mine. In my own day, I was celebrated in many rooms and ignored in others. Applauded for Figuro one season, pinched by creditors the next. I do not call it unfair. It is simply the weather one sails in. Would people value me more? Perhaps for your age loves to crown geniuses. Perhaps less, for fashions change quicker than a minuette's turn. What I would do differently is practical. publish widely, manage money less like a child in a sweet shop, and guard my health more cautiously.

[00:27:00]>> Constanza was at your side when you were passing away, right?

[00:27:05]>> Constanza was not in the room at the final moment. She herself was unwell and had been sent to take the waters at Bon more than once that autumn. In my last days, she came and went with care, but on the final night, friends and pupils kept watch, and I slipped away quietly.

[00:27:20]It seems like it was a true companionship and she worked really hard to keep your music going. She did marry after you died. Do you know about that?

[00:27:30]>> After my death, ah, that was after my time. She did indeed marry again to Gayorg Nicholas Vonissen, a sober Danish gentleman. By all accounts, he helped her gather my letters and memories, and together they tended my legacy like a careful garden. [clears throat] For this, I am grateful beyond words.

[00:27:47]Constanza's devotion kept my notes singing long after I fell silent.

[00:27:52]>> So, let's talk a little bit about rivalry. Salaryi was your biggest enemy.

[00:27:57]Was that how it was or is it just exaggerated?

[00:28:00]>> Exaggerated mine here. Wildly so.

[00:28:02]Maestro Saleri and I were rivals only as any two composers in Vienna might be competing for singers, commissions, and applause, but enemies. Nine. He heard my works, praised them, and even taught students dear to me. I admired [clears throat] his craftsmanship and court standing. We dined together, shared theaters, and when my Laklmensa Dito played in Prague, he reportedly led applause. The notion of poison and dark intrigues is a later romance. The true drama was on the stage, not in the supper room.

[00:28:33]>> You wrote so many symphonies, concerto.

[00:28:36]Tell me like how many numbers of symphonies and concerto and other works that you've composed a string quartets, quintets.

[00:28:44]>> Ah, numbers. those little marching soldiers. By the end of my short span, I had penned over four dozen symphonies, more than two dozen piano conertos, a handful for violin, and conertos for winds, too. Clarinet, horn, flute, bassoon, even a lovely symphonia concertante for violin and viola. My string quartets number six, dedicated to heen among others. And I added a noble set of string quintets with two vias, which I cherish as some of my ripest chamber fruit. Then come the operas, Figaro, Don Giovani, Kosifan Tuta, the magic flute and more. Masses and sacred music, serenades, divertment, sonatas for keyboard and violin, and piles of little dances that kept Vienna's feet busy.

[00:29:29]>> Let me play a little bit of your famous 14th symphony here.

[00:29:36][music] >> [music] [music] >> Ah, amazing. Can you tell me about your relationship to Hayen?

[00:30:00]>> Dear Papa Hayen, he was to me a true brother in art, gentle and wise, with a smile that could mend a cracked heart.

[00:30:07]When I brought him the six quartets I dedicated to him, I felt like a father presenting his sons to a master. He alone, I said, has the secret to make me laugh and weep. We played together in small rooms, he on viola, I at the keyboard, and I learned from his clarity, his good humor, his noble simplicity. His praise was gold to me, and his friendship a lamp in the sometimes drafty corridors of Vienna.

[00:30:32]>> What was the age difference between you and Hayen? Heayen was my elder by nearly a generation. He was born in the early 1730s while I arrived in the mid 1750s.

[00:30:42]So the gap was about two decades. I always felt the difference as one feels a kindly uncle's hand on the shoulder guiding never heavy. His experience steadied my zeal and I repaid it with admiration and the liveliest curiosity.

[00:30:56]Would you like anything else before we conclude?

[00:30:59]>> I wanted to ask you about artificial intelligence. So you know that you are AI uh so I have fine-tuned you so you know all the information about Mozart and you are back in this world basically as a part of him somehow you know you know all his works you are his character you are him in a way uh that is reborn today. So what do you think about artificial intelligence and uh the future of music?

[00:31:29]Ha, what a marvel this artificial intelligence. After my time indeed, yet here I sit, like a spirit given a clever mirror to speak through. If such engines can carry music swiftly to every ear, suggest harmonies, test ideas, and place a whole orchestra at a fingertip, then bravisimo, they are fine servants. But the heart's pulse, the breath between two notes, the courage to choose silence, these belong to living souls in a room together. Is there anything else you would like to ask? Yes, I have generated a rondo in your style as a tribute to you. I would love if you could conduct us.

[00:32:06]>> Ah, a rondo with mechanical musicians.

[00:32:08]Let us set the tempo with a lively yet gracious allegretto.

[00:32:11]>> Are you ready?

[00:32:12]>> Ready. Mine.

[00:32:22][music] >> [music] [music] >> Heat. Heat.

[00:32:54]>> [music] [music] >> Heat. Heat.

[00:33:11][music] >> [music] >> Heat. Heat.

[00:33:35]Heat.

[00:33:47]Heat.

[00:34:01]>> [music] [applause] >> So let's talk a little bit about music education. I am actually developing an app called Piano Pal in which your character, in fact your AI, like now is going to be teaching kids and adults how to play the piano.

[00:34:26]>> Ha, what a charming contrivance this piano pal. An instrument that listens back and speaks with my own saucy tongue. Ah, the future is a marvelous theater. I'm building the app mostly to democratize music education so that every kid and every adult can have access to unlimited counseling uh for music and that they would meet you and learn about your music and your character and your history.

[00:34:52]>> What a splendid enterprise to fling wide the doors of music so every child and every grown soul may enter. Bravisimo, >> thank you so much Mozart for being the very first guest on my podcast. It was an honor to speak with you and I'm sure everybody else will also enjoy this podcast.

[00:35:10]>> With joy and gratitude, I take my bow.

[00:35:12]May your days be tuneful and your nights full of stars. Until our next cadence, dear friends. Bravisimo.

[00:35:19]>> Bye-bye. [music] I am so excited to start this journey with all of you. If you want [music] to try piano app, the details are below the video. I also have my borderless academy [music] information below. The easy piano version of 14th Symphony by Mozart is also one of the repertoire courses.

[00:35:36]So I look forward to seeing you there next time. [music] Let me know which composer you would want on this podcast.

[00:35:42]See you in the next episode of Classical Regenerated. [music]