A three Michelin star concert: Leonkoro Quartet at the String Quartet Biennale Amsterdam 2026

Photographer: Rob van Dam

The 5th edition of the String Quartet Biennale Amsterdam took place from the 24th to the 31st of January 2026 in the Muziekgebouw of Amsterdam. Just like two years ago, I was lucky enough to join the production team and immersed myself in the world of string quartets for a week. It was so nice to see some familiar faces again as well as to get to know new colleagues, all while enjoying some of the world's best string quartets playing outsanding music. And not to forget, a delicious sweet treat of the festival kitchen a couple of times :)

I could go on and on about how delightful this edition of the festival was for me, but I've decided to dedicate this post to the concert of the festival that I enjoyed the most: the afternoon concert of the Leonkoro Quartet. The "Leonkoros" were my most precious discovery of the previous edition of the festival, so I was really excited when I saw they were performing this time too, and with what a program! So without further ado, here's my experience of the concert:

If the Leonkoro Quartet would be a Michelin star restaurant, they’d have three stars, because it’s safe to say that going to one of their concerts deserves a special journey. And that’s a big statement to make, but I’m not saying it for nothing. One hour of their music made me feel so alive, inspired and moved in so many ways, that it feels as if I’d been part of a magical moment that only a few of us were able to enjoy. Such a privilege.

I might have been a bit biased when entering the main hall of the Muziekgebouw on a snowy Thursday afternoon, because I knew I was up to something special since I had already listened to them in the previous edition of the String Quartet Biennale Amsterdam in 2024. But it’s the high hopes that most of the times play against us, when our expectations aren’t met because we were hoping for too much. It rarely happens that those high expectations are exceeded. Especially at a string quartet festival, where there’s such a huge palette of string quartet music, something for every taste. But believe me, you’re going to want Leonkoro on your menu.

The concert started with Mendelssohn’s String Quartet nr. 2, followed by a sextet arrangement of Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante. I had no idea the latter existed, and what a pleasing surprise it was to discover it. It somehow has a Mendelssohn-String-Octet-like quality to me, probably because it felt just as fun, fresh and exciting to listen to this arrangement as it feels for me to play Mendelssohn’s Octet.

They got my full attention already after the first couple of bars of Mendelssohn’s quartet, so full of emotion. It somehow felt like we weren’t ‘only’ listening to Mendelssohn’s String Quartet nr. 2, but to Leonkoro’s version of the piece. And in a world where there’s such a high level and such an easy access to so many recordings and concerts, this is exactly what captivates the audience: personality. Because personality means vulnerability, means putting yourself out there, means being brave.

One hour of their music made me feel so alive, inspired and moved in so many ways, that it feels as if I’d been part of a magical moment that only a few of us were able to enjoy. Such a privilege.

While in Mendelssohn’s piece I got so amazed by the interpretation of it, with Mozart’s piece I had the orchestra version of it in mind, so I was constantly caught in surprise when the theme travelled from one instrument to another, changing colours and voices, resulting in a unique version of the piece. I was sitting in the audience wondering where the players would take us next, listening with all my five senses, as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. I’m curious what their approach to the piece was, to what extent they had the “original” version in mind and how much did they want to “vary” that. It’s so interesting how (almost) the same material sounds so different when presented in a different setting. Now I feel like digging deeper into the piece myself, tricking some friends into working on it in exchange for a nice homemade dinner.

During the whole concert, there was one idea that kept coming back to me: the respect and admiration that the players have for each other. I loved the way they were communicating and giving space to each other, creating all sorts of sound colours: intimate, big, daring, light, careful, deep, joyful… And, in my opinion, that can only happen if you trust the people you’re sharing the stage with. The “easiness” and speed with which they changed from one colour to another was astonishing, yet always so natural and organic, as if the music couldn’t be played any other way but that - at least there and then. That happened both in the whole (either a quartet or a sextet) and in the individual voices, which ended up in a perfect balance between the group and the individual sound. They all blended in and out in service of the melody and harmony. Everybody had something to say, and there was space for them to do it.

Like it often happens when I’m so touched by a concert, my teacher Sarah Kapustin came to my mind. I think she planted the seeds for me being able to identify all of these aspects of someone else’s playing, which means I get to enjoy music at a completely higher level than I did before studying with her. During the Leonkoro’s concert, I could hear that precise, compact sound you get when you imagine you’re playing with just one hair of your bow, and just some minutes later feel how their full group sound was travelling through the whole hall; I could see them enjoy, tease each other and have a blast while playing. It was simply mindblowing.

I guess this is how I know that a concert was great for me: I left the hall feeling so inspired that I wanted to go write about what I had listened to and practice - both things that I lately haven’t done as much as I used to. I also felt the urge to call all my loved ones who weren’t there to tell them how special it was, and probably when they’d ask “why” I wouldn’t be able to describe with words something that is undescribable, so I’d say something like “you’ll only know if you come with me next time”. So to whoever reads this, this is your sign to plan a trip and book your table at Leonkoro’s.

Atmosphere SQBA

Foyer Muziekgebouw SQBA

Photographer: Juri Hiensch