The first of January feels a long time ago. But barely 10 weeks have passed since conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin brought in 2026 with the Vienna Philharmonic in its New Year’s Day Concert. On the programme was one piece which symbolised that even this ultra-traditionalist event was beginning to open up its repertoire. Instead of the Strauss and more Strauss that has defined the New Year’s Day programmes for many decades, there was music by Florence Price on the lineup. Price is a composer Nézet-Séguin has done more to champion than any other conductor of a major US orchestra, putting music by the first Black woman in the US to write a symphony at the centre of his discography.
Yet the Rainbow Waltz that is credited to Price on Sony’s album of the concert isn’t actually a piece by Price. Wolfgang Dörner’s supposed “arrangement” of Price’s original music for solo piano has been called by the Price expert John Michael Cooper – who has edited and published more of Price’s work than any other musicologist – the “sincerest form of insult” to Price and her music, labelling the work a “forgery”.
Dörner’s re-orchestrated version added an introduction, and kept barely any recognisable themes or ideas from Price’s original in the work performed as “Florence Price’s Rainbow Waltz”. You can hear both side by side, and play a game of spot the difference. To my ears, the melodies, harmonies and even the structure of Dörner’s piece bear little relationship to Price’s waltz for solo piano.
It is not only that the piece that was played has no meaningful relationship to the original, it’s that any trace of Price’s unique harmonies, which connect the worlds of spirituals, the influence of early blues and jazz, with classical traditions, has been ironed out. What you are left with is pure Viennese pastiche.
The oboist and blogger Katherine Needleman has also published this week her findings that, while the piece that was performed was credited to Florence Price in the programme, and is still credited to her on Sony’s album on whichever streaming platform you choose, it’s another story for the Austrian copyright collection agency, the AKM. There, the piece is listed as “public domain”, and the only musician who is attributed is Dörner, the arranger.
Just as Price’s life was marred by institutional prejudice, the story of Rainbow Waltz proves that can still happen to her reputation. Is it possible that the Vienna Philharmonic included her music because of its supposed diversity, but didn’t want the different sounds and ideas of her composition, so her music was re-orchestrated to fit in with white European convention?
At the very least, the story of what really happened to Price’s Rainbow Waltz needs to be told to listeners who are imagining they are hearing her music when they play this album. They should know they aren’t experiencing anything of the sort. Listen instead to Nézet-Séguin’s revelatory recordings of the symphonies (including the Third Symphony, whose Juba he had apparently wanted to play in Vienna on New Year’s Day), and try the original Rainbow Waltz for piano instead, played here by Kevin Wayne Bumpers. Nézet-Séguin, meanwhile, is saying little:
“Florence Price … is an incredible composer and an important part of music history, and it was my wish to introduce her music to a wider audience. Different arrangements of her Rainbow Waltz allow her music to reach different audiences and contexts: Wolfgang Dörner’s arrangement highlighted connections to the Viennese waltz tradition, and Valerie Coleman’s [which the Philadelphia will perform in 2027] emphasises an American sonority. My hope is that these arrangements continue to promote the life and work of Price and bring her genius to audiences worldwide,” he told Slipped Disc. Talking to him for the BBC this week, I asked if he had any further comment. He didn’t.
Vienna Philharmonic’s chairman, Daniel Froschauer, told die Presse in a piece published on 6 February that he acknowledges that Dörner “took somewhat greater liberties” but “we never intended to mislead anyone. But perhaps we can all learn something from this discussion.” The orchestra has been approached for comment.
This week Tom has been listening to: Isabella Gellis’s EP The Dissolute Society Comprised of All Sorts, in which Heinrich Biber’s Battalia à 10, his belligerent 17th-century tone poem, is turned into a suite for solo piano in music that explodes, shatters and meditates on the original, building towards a final 10-minute lament of radiant irresolution. Listen on Spotify | Apple Music