'La Marseillaise' sounds best ringing around a packed sports

The words of Engelbert Humperdinck, though spoken as a singer reflecting on music outside his own, strike with the force of history itself: “‘La Marseillaise’ sounds best ringing around a packed sports stadium. Its lyrics evoke revolution, conflict, taking up arms, preparing for the fight—everything my music does not! Even in our largely peaceful times, it retains its rousing, martial air that gives it a power that hasn’t diminished.” Within this reflection lies the enduring truth that some songs are not mere melodies but summonses to the spirit, carrying echoes of the past into the present with undimmed power.

He begins with “La Marseillaise”, the anthem of France, born not in palaces but in the urgency of revolution. Written in 1792 as a call to arms, it summoned the citizens of a nation to rise against tyranny, to shed blood for liberty, to march as one body toward destiny. Its verses speak of enemies at the gates, of citizens rising in wrath, of freedom bought with courage. To hear it sung is to feel the heartbeat of rebellion and the thunder of an awakened people.

Humperdinck places this anthem within the modern scene of the sports stadium, a place where thousands gather not to fight with weapons but to witness contests of strength, endurance, and will. The roar of the crowd, united in voice, transforms the stadium into a theater of collective passion. When “La Marseillaise” is sung there, its martial tones find new life, not in battlefields of war, but in the struggles of athletes, who embody the same courage, rivalry, and determination that the song once demanded of soldiers.

History shows us the enduring power of such songs. During the Second World War, “La Marseillaise” was banned by occupying forces in France, yet resistance fighters sang it in secret, risking death to affirm their defiance. Even beyond France, it became a global symbol of liberty, its melody stirring hearts far removed from its origins. Contrast this with the ephemeral songs of popular taste, sweet for a season, then forgotten. “La Marseillaise” endures because it is more than music—it is a banner of the soul.

Humperdinck contrasts the anthem’s rousing martial air with his own music of romance and softness. Yet he does not speak in envy; rather, he acknowledges that certain songs are meant not to soothe but to ignite. His words remind us that music wears many garments—some to console, some to inspire, some to summon men and women to heights of courage they did not know they possessed. There is no contradiction between the gentle and the fierce; each has its place. But it is the anthem, with its call to arms, that retains the peculiar ability to unify a multitude in one mighty voice.

The deeper lesson here is timeless: words and music that carry the weight of sacrifice never lose their power. Even when times are peaceful, when no sword is raised, songs of courage awaken in us the memory of struggle. They remind us that peace was purchased by the passion of those who came before, and that the will to rise up, to resist, to fight for dignity, must always remain alive within the people.

Therefore, children of the future, do not dismiss the old anthems as relics. When you hear “La Marseillaise” or any song born in the fire of history, listen with reverence. Feel the blood and the hope of generations rising through its notes. Sing not only with your voice but with your spirit, for in such songs we are reminded of who we are and what we may yet become. They are not bound to the past—they are eternal sparks, ready to ignite the courage of the present.

Thus, Engelbert Humperdinck’s reflection endures as wisdom: songs of revolution never truly fade; they only find new arenas in which to resound. What once summoned soldiers now inspires athletes, and what once called to arms now calls to unity. And so, “La Marseillaise” remains forever new—an anthem that transcends time, carrying with it the rousing power of a people who dared to rise.