Christopher Wojahn
from Palm Bay
wrote on August 4, 2025:
Joseph Kreines has been—and was—one of the most important, profound, influential, and inspirational musical mentor in my life. I first came to know him as the conductor of the Brevard Symphony Youth Orchestra’s Symphonic Orchestra, where I was blessed to serve at the back of the 2nd violin section during his final two seasons, 2007–2008 and 2008–2009.
It is truly hard to put into words the depth and magnitude of his impact on my musical development. It was he who, with a kind of reverent ceremony, handed me the keys—opened the door—to some of the greatest, grandest, most wonderful, spectacular, wild, magical, mystical, spiritual, emotionally draining, fulfilling, energizing, thrilling, powerful, and life-changing music ever composed.
The significance of each and every piece he brought into my life was monumental. These works reached deep into me, striking a level of transcendent personal resonance that permanently altered the course of my musical journey. They ignited a kind of quasi-religiosity in me—a divine spark behind my beliefs, goals, desires, curiosities, and ambitions. That spark continues to drive me toward the same pursuit: a lifelong search for love, wisdom, and wonder—the things that make us truly human.
I still remember every piece we played under his expert, uncompromising interpretations—readings that shaped the very foundation of my love for classical music, my musical identity, and my path as a violinist. For that, I will always be grateful.
He remained—and remains—a definitive source of knowledge and inspiration. From the first downbeat of any rehearsal, his command of the music radiated pure authority. He waved and flapped his arms on the podium like a man possessed, often shouting—spitting in sheer passion—as he scolded us not to count with our ears. Every rehearsal was a masterclass in musicianship, ensemble listening, and artistic integrity.
Mr. Kreines’s scope—his reach—was immense. His impact spans generations. To all my musical colleagues who shared in his orbit, we received the very best kind of guidance: demanding, nurturing, loving, human.
The last BSYO concert I played under his direction was the world premiere of Mark Piszczek’s Variations for Orchestra (The Song Of Arion). That performance stands as a testament to Kreines’s influence—bringing together musicians across boundaries to create something new, something lasting. His legacy continues through the lineages he forged and the multidimensional web of musical experience he helped build.
His influence followed me into my studies at BCC, where he occasionally made surprise visits—taking over rehearsals for Mr. James Bishop’s Chamber and Community Symphony Orchestras.
One day, he invited me to his home in Palm Bay to listen to music. I never questioned the invitation. It was a sacred opportunity—to sit beside a wise, warm master and soak in his insights. That day, he played me Bartók’s String Quartet No. 4 for the first time, handing me the score to follow along. I was absolutely blown away. For me this was the first time that I Have Been Musically Assaulted By Joseph Kreines. It was the most insane, wild, terrifying, and awe-inspiring piece of music I’d ever heard. It still shakes me to my core.
On another visit, he gifted me a full CD collection of William Byrd’s harpsichord music. I’ll admit, I was perplexed—it challenged my concept of what “good” music was. But I knew these were treasures: artifacts from musical history passed down with reverence.
I was also lucky to attend world-class chamber performances for the Melbourne Chamber Music Society —sitting right by his side for what may have been once-in-a-lifetime live experiences. And I’ll never forget his back room, where the couch sat beneath the most awe-inspiring wall of CDs I’d ever seen. That moment inspired me to start building my own library.
One of the greatest honors of my early musical life was having Mr. Kreines as my collaborative pianist for my sophomore recital. He accompanied me on the first movement of Saint-Saëns’ Violin Concerto No. 3 in B Minor. I’m lucky to still have the audio recording of that performance—our music, forever captured.
Another unforgettable memory was listening to Carl Nielsen’s solo violin music: the Preludio & Theme with Variations Op. 48 and Preludio e Presto Op. 52—terrifying in its complexity. He handed me a copy of the score of Preludio e Presto for me to take home, as if I might someday conquer it. We marveled together at how impossibly demanding the violin is—a shared admiration for the craft we both loved.
While at UCF, I would call him whenever I was home. We’d talk about the music I was playing and revisit works he had once introduced me to. At the end of each semester, I’d excitedly share my progress—hoping to make him proud.
In 2016, I had the privilege of celebrating his 80th birthday at his home, surrounded by friends, students, and colleagues. I’ll never forget him offering me liver—truly the most vile thing I’ve ever tasted! But I ate it anyway, half-believing it might somehow impart his musical genius to me.
As life got busier, my visits became less frequent—something I regret. But when I did visit, I would beg him to sit at the piano. Even after he had mostly stopped playing, he obliged. We would sight-read Mozart Violin Sonatad and the Schubert Sonatinas, making it though movement to movement sweating and ashamed, but determined to do my best. I always wanted to show him how I’d improved.
He was always brutally honest, but never cruel. He acknowledged growth, always encouraged more. He never let me stop.
My last two meetings with Joseph Kreines were in August and September of 2023. I visited him to play my audition excerpts as I prepared for my first professional orchestra auditions—for the Orlando Philharmonic and The Florida Orchestra. I had no idea those would be the final times I’d get to play for him, in his legendary home, surrounded by his recordings and the energy of a lifetime in music.
I captured both sessions on my iPad—audio only. No video. But I’m grateful to have those recordings. They are immortal reminders of his voice, his wisdom, and the impact he had on my life as a musician, a violinist, and a future music educator.
His love, his encouragement, and his vast knowledge of musical history and its greatest composers—of the most sublime music ever written—will live on in me, always. His legacy lives in the lives of all of us he helped shape.
Sometimes, I feel a heavy sadness that I didn’t win an orchestra job while he was alive. I wanted so badly to show him that I could make it. But I know he saw my determination. I know he knew I wouldn’t give up.
And when I do win that orchestra job, it will be because of him.
Because of his guidance. His honesty. His encouragement.
Because of the spark he lit in me all those years ago.
Rest in peace, Mr. Kreines. Rest in musical power.
Your memory, your legacy, and your life will live on—in me, and in all of us you helped find ourselves through the sublime gift of music.