1955, 70 years ago, was a wild year. While the rubble of the Second World War was still fresh, the Staatsvertrag of Austria was signed on the 26th of October, but more importantly, just ten days later, the Viennese State Opera lifted its doors again for the first time since being partly destroyed in the war. Curtains up, war trauma down (or at least pushed into the back of one’s mind for a few opera-filled hours). The applause was not just for Beethoven’s Fidelio that night – it was for the return of sound, beauty, velvet, drama, and identity to the city.

Trying to talk about Vienna without classical music and opera is a bit like trying to take the apricot jam out of a Sacher Torte – it just wouldn’t be a Sacher Torte anymore. Music and Vienna are so deeply entwined with each other that they are often synonyms for one another. “The Music Capital of the World”, the place where Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Schubert, Strauss, Mahler, Falco and many more left their marks (only true ones will see what I did there).

On any given night, roughly 10,000 people are visiting some kind of classical music event in Vienna at the same time, in one of the many music institutions we sometimes take for granted in our city landscape: the Musikverein, Konzerthaus, Theater an der Wien or the Viennese State Opera. I cannot recount the number of times that would have been me or my parents, who raised me to go to these concerts, operas, performances – often against my will. A childhood of forced culture – nothing says Viennese parenting like dragging your spawn to a three-hour opera and calling it “education”. Explains a lot, honestly.

Back to that opening night on the 5th of November 1955, which is still bathed in the type of mythic legends we hope to see on the stage, not in the audience.
So many people claim they were there that reopening night, the number far exceeds the seats the house actually had – not just by a few, but by multiples.
It was that kind of night that’s more important to the soul of Vienna than the accuracy of facts. After all, it’s less about who was really there and more about what the city needed to remember.

Our local Opera House rolled up its sleeves for this jubilee; the programme is representing this highlight, with an exclusive documentary, a new commemorative plaque revealed by our President, and an exclusive exhibition for opera visitors on until the end of January. They are also showing – how could it be otherwise – Fidelio again, telling the story of liberation, freedom and brotherhood.

And after all that, it’s still not the most exciting thing that happened in the world of opera last week: enter Rosalía’s Berghain. She basically changed the music industry with one single song, suddenly making opera the hottest music genre in our AirPods – like Vivaldi managing to get through the Berghain doors just to tell the tale. The whole album, which dropped today, shows more genre range than languages – thirteen in total – and opens the opportunity for the opera world to finally step into the 21st century.

Daria Challah, classical music influencer and critic, said it’s the single most important thing to happen to classical music this year, which, don’t get me wrong, really could use this dust-off. Also, the way Rosalía presented her new album? Lying on a massive bed of white fabric, surrounded by curtains, not saying a single word? Pure opera dramatics.

It’s opening an interesting conversation between the traditional classical music listener – who often can be seen as snobbish, elitist, and likes to look down on our younger, not-as-perfect music – of whether or not opera singing can be combined with the music of our generation. (I’m going to prefix the next part of the article by saying, I’m no music critic. I’m in no way qualified to have an opinion about all this, but we live in a free world where random people’s opinions are sometimes more fun than those of qualified people, so here we go.) I say yes. Yes to the genre mixing, yes to making opera cool again. Yes to techno beats and high-pitched perfect singing vocals. Berghain is giving exactly what JJ’s Wasted Love was supposed to give us; despite him winning the Eurovision Song Contest with his pop-opera-techno fusion, the song was just not good – at least if you ask me and my peers.

All of this leaves one big question: is this finally the vibe shift in music that is necessary? The way to bring younger people back into the opera houses, out of the clubs? Or is opera going to be our new pre-drinking place? It’s giving roaring 20s in the best way possible. Who cares about the rise of living costs when you’ve got opera tickets for cheap (big tip: most classical music institutions offer cheap-as-hell tickets for under-27-year-olds; I don’t qualify anymore, but please use them! #old).

Vienna, of course, is a tough crowd when it comes to anything that dares to modernise opera - even if it’s just the stage design, not the music. My dad is one of those judgy opera-goers who’s been known to leave during the interval because a production was too flashy, too modern, too vibrant for his taste. And he’s usually not the only one. We all know the type: pearls clutched, eyes rolled, loyalty sworn to the 1970s Fidelio set design. Change in Vienna doesn’t come easy, not even when it’s wrapped in velvet and singing in perfect pitch.

But maybe that’s what makes this new wave so exciting. For a city that’s built entire centuries of culture on nostalgia, it’s thrilling to feel a shift - something loud, fresh, and daring. If the last century taught us anything, it’s that Vienna always finds her spotlight again. Seventy years after rebuilding her stage, we’re hoping she’s ready to step into a new act - one that enhances arias with dropped beats but keeps the same dramatic pulse. Call it a renaissance, a vibe shift, or simply Vienna doing what she does best: turning every generation’s chaos into a standing ovation.

Eleonore Marie Stifter - Resident Viennese. Writes about culture, taste, and the art of complaining beautifully.