What is classical music, really?

It’s a question I thought I had a clear answer to.

After all, I’ve lived and breathed it my whole life. I can name the composers, the periods, the styles. I can explain the difference between Baroque and Romantic, between counterpoint and minimalism.

But still—when someone asks me what classical music is, I hesitate.

Not long ago, I posted a piece by Bach on social media, and a few people were quick to point out: “That’s not classical, it’s baroque.” They weren’t wrong in a historical sense. Bach lived before the Classical period, strictly speaking. But comments like that always feel a bit... off.

Because the truth is, “classical music” is more than a category on a music history chart. It’s not just a time period—it’s a tradition. A way of writing, playing, and listening. It’s music that was made to last. Music written down, refined, shaped—like architecture in sound.

It can be from 1720 or 2020. What unites it isn’t the date, but the spirit.

Classical music values structure, harmony, balance. But it also carries an emotional weight that transcends time. It doesn’t shout to be heard. It invites you in. It unfolds. It rewards attention.

That’s what makes it classical to me—not when it was written, but how it makes you feel when you truly listen, and its timeless nature.

So no—I don’t think the question “Is Bach classical?” is the right one. A better one might be: Does it move you in that way?

I hope I did the question justice.

Here's my classical playlist, if you'd like to explore. Click here.

Have a nice day,

Claudio.