Maria Farantouri at the Little Theatre of Ancient Epidaurus

A life with Mikis – A life for music and poetry

At the Little Theatre of Ancient Epidaurus, where voice merges with landscape and song takes on a primal quality, Maria Farantouri is preparing to take the stage in her own tribute to the centenary of Mikis Theodorakis’ birth. The evening will shed light on lesser-known lyrical works from his late creative period: The Odyssey, set to the poetry of Kostas Kartelias (2006), alongside selections from The Lyrical (1976, poetry by Tasos Leivaditis), and Beatrice on Zero Street (1994, poetry by Dionysis Karatzas). Accompanied by a small but superb ensemble, Maria Farantouri and baritone Tassis Christoyannopoulos will bring to life a more meditative, more poetic side of Mikis Theodorakis.

“Performing in this place always has something special this time, sharing the stage with Tassis Christoyannopoulos—a performer of rare sensitivity and vocal depth—makes the night even more meaningful.”

Poetry was always the foundation of Theodorakis’ work. “He wanted the people to know poetry. He brought it to the lips of everyday folk. Ritsos, Seferis, Leivaditis their verses became songs everyone knew. For him, that was a sacred duty. He fused poetry and music to create something new: the art song.”

Farantouri recalls the moment it all began. She was just sixteen when she met him. “It was the early ’60s. Mikis had just returned from abroad, influenced also by his friend Manos Hadjidakis, who had already paved his own path. That was the birth of a new cultural movement. We were all there: Manos Loizos, Christos Leontis, Dimos Moutsis, Thanos Mikroutsikos. After the silence of the 1950s, Greece was yearning for a voice and found it in poetry and song,” she says.

For the acclaimed singer, that era was nothing short of mythical.
“He was a great teacher, never harsh in the strict sense, but always demanding, with heart. What he gave me was a lifelong journey. He wasn’t just a father figure. He was almost godlike. I feel him beside me when I sing. It’s as if he spreads wings over me. Though I’ve sung many works, Greek and foreign, from the Beatles to John Williams, I always return to the beginning. My voice is intertwined with him.

But Theodorakis’ legacy was more than just music and poetry. There was something deeper. For Theodorakis, politics and culture were never separate realms. “Mikis was a singular figure. Both political and artistic. He had a profound sense of duty to his country, and a belief that culture could bring transformation. In Cuba, Fidel Castro himself called him a ‘revolutionary musician.’”

When I ask if there could ever be another like him, she falls silent for a moment.
“I don’t know if that’s possible. Everything is changing—technology, the rise of AI. But I do believe that even today’s young composers, if they know their roots, can create great works. Every region has its own voice, Epirus, the islands, Thrace, the Ionian, Asia Minor, they are all treasures. Foreign artists tell me this too, like the great saxophonist Charles Lloyd, with whom I’ve collaborated, how rich the Greek musical soul is.”

She concludes with a thought: “The feeling back then was that poetry was sung everywhere. Young people, everyone, carried it with them. There was myth, enchantment. A kind of imagination that could lift you above the harshness of reality. And that was the greatness of the songs of that era.”

The evening will be a quiet homage to the power of music to transform verse into flame.