In the heart of Maastricht, under the warm glow of a summer evening sky, a kind of magic happens every year. The historic Vrijthof square, framed by ancient basilicas and charming cafes, transforms into a grand, open-air ballroom. It is the kingdom of André Rieu, the Dutch violinist and conductor who has lovingly been crowned the modern “King of the Waltz.” His annual hometown concerts are legendary spectacles of music, emotion, and pageantry. But in 2010, amidst the sweeping Strauss waltzes and grand operatic arias, Rieu unsheathed a piece so unexpected, so vibrant, and so joyously defiant of genre that it has since become an iconic moment in his storied career: an electrifying performance of “Hava Nagila.”

It was more than just a song in a setlist. It was a cultural and emotional explosion that sent a wave of pure elation through the thousands gathered. In that moment, Rieu and his Johann Strauss Orchestra didn’t just play a traditional Hebrew folk song; they harnessed its very essence—its call to rejoice—and turned the entire square into one of the most jubilant celebrations on Earth. It was a masterclass in how music can shatter boundaries, a testament to the maestro’s unique gift for creating moments of profound, shared humanity.

The Maestro and His Mission

To understand why this performance was so special, one must first understand André Rieu. He is a classical musician who has achieved rock-star-level fame by breaking all the rules of classical music. While the traditional concert hall often carries an air of stiff formality, Rieu’s concerts are the polar opposite. They are lavish, immersive experiences designed to elicit emotion. With his long, flowing hair, his infectious smile, and his priceless 1732 Stradivarius violin, he is as much a showman as he is a musician.

His mission has always been simple: to make the glorious, passionate world of classical music accessible to everyone. He believes that the waltz, with its elegant rhythm, is a universal expression of joy. But his repertoire extends far beyond that. He weaves together opera, show tunes, film scores, and, most importantly, folk music from around the world. His Johann Strauss Orchestra, adorned in magnificent 19th-century ball gowns and tailcoats, is a world-class ensemble capable of navigating these diverse musical landscapes with breathtaking skill and precision. A Rieu concert is a place where you are not only allowed but encouraged to laugh, to cry, to gasp in awe, and, of course, to get up and dance.

A Song of Celebration

“Hava Nagila,” which translates to “Let us rejoice,” is one of the most recognizable folk songs in the world. Its journey is a fascinating piece of cultural history. The melody originated as a wordless tune, a nigun, among the Sadigurer Hasidim in the Ukrainian region of Bukovina. It was a melody of spiritual ecstasy. In 1918, in Ottoman-era Palestine, composer Abraham Zevi Idelsohn transcribed the tune and, along with his students, set it to Hebrew lyrics that celebrated a new beginning and a call for happiness.

From there, it became a global anthem. It is the sound of Jewish weddings, bar mitzvahs, and community gatherings—a song that instantly signals celebration. Its rhythm is infectious, starting slow and melancholic before building into a swirling, frenetic dance of pure bliss known as the Hora. To choose this song, a cornerstone of Jewish cultural celebration, and place it in the heart of a European classical concert was a bold and beautiful statement.

The Maastricht Miracle

As the first, unmistakable notes of the clarinet introduced the melody in Maastricht, a ripple of recognition and surprise went through the crowd. This wasn’t a waltz. This wasn’t an aria. This was something different. André Rieu stood center stage, a gleam in his eye, as his violin took up the theme, playing it with a soulful, almost reverent touch. The orchestra provided a lush, symphonic foundation, giving the humble folk tune a new and epic scale.

And then, the tempo began to quicken.

What happened next was pure Rieu magic. The dignified audience, seated in perfect rows, began to clap along. First a few, then hundreds, then thousands, their hands moving in perfect time with the accelerating rhythm. The percussion kicked in with a driving beat, the strings swelled with passion, and Rieu himself seemed to transform from a conductor into a high-energy dance leader. He stomped his feet, his bow flew across the strings, and he beamed at the audience, urging them on.

The Vrijthof square erupted. People were on their feet, no longer spectators but active participants in a massive, joyous celebration. Strangers linked arms and danced in the aisles. The music swirled faster and faster, a whirlwind of sound and emotion that was impossible to resist. The orchestra played with a fiery exuberance, seamlessly blending the song’s traditional Klezmer spirit with the power and polish of a world-class symphony. It was tradition meeting exuberance on a grand scale, a perfect encapsulation of Rieu’s artistic philosophy. The performance wasn’t just heard; it was felt—a jolt of pure happiness that was both deeply personal and universally shared. As the final, triumphant note rang out, the roar from the crowd was deafening, a release of pure, unadulterated elation. It was a celebration of music, of culture, and of the simple, profound joy of being alive.