Gramophone Awards 2026: Rethinking the Boundaries of the Classical Canon
The much-anticipated 2026 Gramophone Awards ceremony will take place in London on 7 October. Last week, we sat down for an in-depth conversation with Martin Cullingford, Publisher and Editor of Gramophone. For him, the awards are not simply a chance to celebrate the outstanding recordings of the past year, but also an opportunity to reconsider the boundaries of the classical music canon. This interview will be published in two parts, before and after the ceremony.
 | By Lucy Cheung 04 October 2026 |
Martin Cullingford in Conversation (Part I):
Before the 2026 Gramophone Awards
LC=Lucy Cheung
MC=Martin Cullingford
Trends in This Year’s Shortlist
LC: From Martinů and Bacewicz to Schubert, Shostakovich and Saariaho, this year’s shortlist is strikingly diverse in both repertoire and recording. What stands out to you most? Is there a thread running through these very different albums?
MC: I think the most striking thing is the sheer diversity of the repertoire and recordings. That’s not unique to this year, of course, but it’s particularly noticeable in this shortlist.
We’re now looking at the final three in each category. Take the concerto category: we have Thomas Adès, Elgar, Ligeti and Shostakovich. There’s music from the twentieth century, as well as much more recent work. Adès, in particular, could be considered a twenty-first-century composer. Traditionally, this category might have been dominated by Tchaikovsky or Beethoven, but this year the repertoire is much more modern. That really caught my attention.
The early music category has always explored earlier repertoire. What’s interesting this year is that less familiar music is also coming to the fore in other categories. In the choral category, for example, there’s a project exploring a relatively neglected composer, alongside music by Johann Ludwig Bach, a distant cousin of J. S. Bach. We have these works today largely because Johann Sebastian admired them, preserved them and performed them himself. Of course, there’s also a familiar masterpiece such as the St John Passion. That combination of the expected and the unexpected is one of the exciting things about this year’s list.
In the instrumental category, we have Bach’s sonatas and partitas played on the mandolin by Chris Thile. It’s a beautiful album, recorded outdoors in a playground, with the ambient sounds left in. There’s also Louis Couperin. François Couperin is much better known, but this is an extraordinary ten-album project devoted to Louis’s music. And then there’s the guitar music of Villa-Lobos, whose work I adore, so I’m delighted to see that recording shortlisted.
I think this reflects a wider trend. Artists and record labels recognise that the catalogue is already enormous, and that listeners are keen to discover less familiar music. They’re willing to take risks with repertoire, and we’re the ones who benefit.
LC: You’ve mentioned Johann Ludwig Bach’s cantatas, Jean Rondeau’s complete Louis Couperin project, and Ann Hallenberg’s Gluck arias. What makes music written centuries ago sound fresh today? Is that vitality in the music itself, or does it depend on the performer’s interpretation?
MC: The music itself is obviously fundamental. The fact that it has survived for centuries and continues to inspire people tells us something about its power. But ultimately, I think it comes down to the performers.
If a work, or a score, can’t be reinterpreted by each generation in a way that speaks to its own time, it risks becoming a museum piece. Clearly, that hasn’t happened to this music.
Take Louis Couperin. Jean Rondeau is a fascinating young artist, and he’s asking what this music means to him in the twenty-first century. He approaches it as an artist living today. If you listen to Bach recordings from the 1950s, they sound very different from those made now. Those performances spoke to their own audiences. They reflected the tastes of the time, the way people understood the music, and how it moved and inspired them.
The period-instrument movement brought a very different focus in the 1990s, with performers paying close attention to historical practices. I think we’ve moved beyond that particular phase. Younger musicians now draw on a range of traditions and influences, and use them to develop a voice of their own.
There’s contemporary music on this year’s shortlist, of course, which is the most direct expression of music being made today. But a musician like Chris Thile, playing Bach, also shows how an artist today can engage with the world, bring their own ideas to the music and respond to it emotionally. That, to me, is where music has its real power.
Rediscovering Overlooked Composers
LC: Thinking about the diversity of this year’s shortlist, I’m also struck by recordings of Bacewicz and the Pavel Haas Quartet, which have brought relatively unfamiliar repertoire into the spotlight. Why do you think we’re seeing this renewed interest? Can an outstanding recording really change a composer’s place in the canon?
MC: It’s an interesting question. One reason, I think, is that we already have an extraordinary number of recordings of Beethoven and Mozart. We absolutely want people to keep playing those great works, but if you’re going to record them again, you need a very clear reason why your interpretation should add something to what’s already there.
With Bacewicz, it’s rather different. Sakari Oramo has spoken about how he himself discovered her music only around ten years ago. She was a relatively little-known composer, but she’s now receiving much more attention. The Silesian Quartet has recorded her chamber music, while Oramo has been championing her symphonic works. For the orchestral players, too, this is a process of discovery. There’s something very exciting about that.
Martinů is perhaps better known, but the Pavel Haas Quartet’s recording makes a strong case for his music as part of the core string quartet repertoire.
Mahler is another example. In the first half of the twentieth century, and even around the middle of the century, his music was far less familiar than it is today. It took champions such as Bruno Walter, and later Bernstein, to change that and bring his work to a much wider audience.
These shifts have always happened, and they’ll continue to happen. That’s one of the things I find exciting about music. Audiences are often very happy to discover something they’ve never heard before, provided the performers believe in it and communicate that commitment. People respond to that.
What Makes an Exceptional Recording?
LC: Let me ask a basic question: what makes an exceptional recording? This year’s shortlist includes artists and works as different as Isabelle Faust, Ligeti, Jean Rondeau and the Pavel Haas Quartet. What makes a recording stand out and stay with us?
MC: First, I should say that reaching the final shortlist of the Gramophone Awards means that these recordings are already of an exceptionally high standard. But that also makes the question difficult, because we’re not comparing like with like. It’s hard to put Ligeti alongside something completely different.
More generally, I think a great recording has to grip you from the very first moment and take you on a journey. It needs to feel vividly alive.
I’m always interested in whether I’m hearing an artist who has thought deeply about the music, perhaps over a lifetime. Is there something genuinely personal in the performance? They’re not simply playing the notes on the page. Through those notes, they’re expressing something of themselves, while also reaching towards the composer’s inner world. Ultimately, does the performance move me?
Of course, today’s musicians are generally superb technicians. Virtuosity and intonation are almost a given. What matters to me beyond that is the sound itself: its depth, its colour, and the range of expression an artist can draw from it.
Sean Shibe is a good example. The colours he draws from the guitar are extraordinary, and they remind me of what Julian Bream was able to do. There are moments when listening to a performance like that is simply breathtaking.
The Economics of Recording and Artistic Freedom
LC: This year’s shortlist includes some ambitious projects involving considerable time and investment, from the Louis Couperin recordings to projects devoted to composers such as Martinů. Why are artists and labels still willing to take on this kind of work? And do financial pressures limit the repertoire that gets recorded?
MC: It’s a big subject, because the economics of recording have changed enormously, and will continue to change. You’re right that money affects repertoire, although not always in the negative way we might expect.
Twenty years ago, a record company might make an album expecting to recoup the costs and perhaps make a profit, which could then fund the next recording. That model still exists, but in far fewer cases. The economics of the industry are very different now.
Many recordings are funded by the artists themselves, or by individuals and organisations who support them. But that doesn’t mean we’re left with nothing but vanity projects. The really exceptional projects still emerge, find an audience and deserve to be heard.
Record labels do still support ambitious recordings and take risks. Major labels may be more inclined to focus on core repertoire, which has a broader audience. Smaller, more specialised labels, meanwhile, often have a more focused and individual approach.
I’ve seen many musicians who once recorded for major labels move to independent ones. The distinction between major and independent labels isn’t as clear-cut as it used to be. In part, this reflects artists’ desire to have more control over what they record.
If artists fund a project themselves, or don’t expect it to make a profit, they may have greater freedom to explore more specialised repertoire. That’s one reason we continue to hear such interesting and adventurous recordings, including music we might never have encountered otherwise.
There may be less money flowing into the industry than there once was, but the purpose of making a recording is changing, too. It doesn’t have to be driven purely by commercial return. It can be an artistic statement in its own right.
Broadcast orchestras are in a different position. A recording by the BBC Symphony Orchestra, for example, may benefit from the support of a broadcasting organisation, rather than relying on the commercial model of a record label.
Solo recordings have a different cost structure again. And some albums are conceived around a particular idea or narrative, with the artist hoping to create something distinctive that will connect with a wider audience.
In the past, artists and record companies could make considerable money from recordings. Today, a recording may be more about marking a particular stage in an artist’s career, and becoming part of their artistic legacy. Of course, they also hope it will encourage people to come and hear them perform live.
I grew up in a small town where there wasn’t much live music. Recordings were incredibly important to me. They gave me the chance to hear and explore classical music. So recordings have never simply been a substitute for live performance; they’re an essential way of discovering and understanding music.
The Yunchan Lim Phenomenon
LC: Let’s talk about young musicians. One name we can’t overlook is Yunchan Lim, who is once again shortlisted in the piano category. We last saw him at the awards two years ago, when he won Young Artist of the Year and the piano award. Since then, he has become one of the most talked-about names in classical music. What do you think is distinctive about him as a musician? And why are expectations around him so high?
MC: He’s a wonderful pianist. There’s a real sense of enjoyment and personal investment in his playing. He seems completely immersed in the music, and there’s a strong sense of individuality in what he does. I don’t mean that every musician has to sound radically different from everyone else, but with him you feel a very deep connection between the music and the person playing it.
Since winning the Cliburn Competition, he’s attracted enormous attention, and there’s been a growing sense of anticipation about what he’ll do next. That inevitably brings expectations, and perhaps a certain responsibility. But it’s also a wonderful thing for classical music. At any given time, there are only a handful of musicians who really capture the imagination, and he’s one of them. Anyone who is drawn to hear him will encounter extraordinary artistry.
We put him on the cover of Gramophone, and had to reprint the magazine twice to meet demand in Korea. That doesn’t happen with every artist who appears on our cover. He has a certain stardust, as well as extraordinary technique and musical insight.
LC: He always seems so eager to get on with the playing, and then to leave the stage as soon as he’s finished, without lingering over the applause or the spotlight.
MC: Yes. Every artist is different, and they should be true to themselves and present the music in a way that feels right to them. Who knows? Yunchan is still very young, and he may change as he gets older. But we’re very fortunate to have a musician of his quality.
LC: The last time I heard him, I felt that his performance of Scriabin conveyed an emotion I hadn’t heard from him before. It was almost as though he had experienced the pain or life journey contained in the music.
MC: Yes, that’s fascinating. The music performers play often reflects the life experiences and emotional journeys of the composers who wrote it, and young musicians may not yet have experienced those things themselves.
Life is complicated, of course. We wouldn’t wish painful experiences on young people, but as they grow older, they’ll come to understand more of that complexity. When a musician like Yunchan can take a piece and communicate the emotions and life experience within it, that’s a remarkable achievement.
Martin Cullingford’s Listening Highlights
LC: After listening to so many recordings this year, was there one that surprised you, changed your mind, or has stayed with you?
MC: I think it would be strange to say that one recording is better than another, particularly when they’re so different. But there are certainly recordings that have stayed with me.
I’ve really enjoyed getting to know Bacewicz’s music. These are accomplished works that were written decades ago, and yet it feels as though we’re discovering them afresh. To hear a conductor such as Sakari Oramo make such a strong case for this music as part of the modern canon is a real pleasure.
I also enjoyed Hugh Watkins’s music for the Hallé. It’s almost as though the composer is painting a portrait of an orchestra he knows very well. It’s fascinating to hear a distinctive musical voice that draws on a range of influences but turns them into something personal.
I’ve also enjoyed discovering Johann Ludwig Bach. It’s music I didn’t know, and it’s interesting to think about it in its historical context: how it might have been heard at the time, and what purpose it served. To hear musicians today introduce this repertoire with such conviction and commitment is a real privilege.
We’ve already talked about Sean Shibe, but I’d also mention his recording of Thomas Adès’s Forgotten Dances. It’s a wonderful performance. The music pushes the instrument to its limits, but not simply for the sake of physical impact. There’s real beauty in what he brings out of it.
The recording of Enescu and Mendelssohn octets, bringing together the Quatuor Ébène and the Belcea Quartet, is extraordinary, too. And Raphaël Pichon and Ensemble Pygmalion’s St John Passion is another recording I greatly admire. They won last year for their Mass in B minor, and they’re an exceptional group of musicians.
I also love Chris Thile’s second volume of Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas. There’s a strong, deeply personal quality to the recording. Hearing Bach played on the mandolin in an open-air setting gives the music a sense of fragility, but also of permanence. That’s something I find very moving.
Thile works across different musical genres, and you can hear how those experiences inform his approach to Bach.
LC: Jazz, for example.
MC: Yes, jazz. He doesn’t approach Bach with a fixed idea of how the music should be played. He comes to it with an open mind, asking what the music is and what it means to him, and then develops his own interpretation from there.
The Mozartists’ recording of Gluck with Ann Hallenberg is another beautiful project. It feels almost like a portrait of the composer, created through the music.
There are so many recordings worth hearing. I always want to emphasise that the awards aren’t a winner-takes-all competition. Every recording that makes the shortlist deserves attention. Different works will speak to different listeners. What matters is finding the music that really moves you.
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