Victor Borge and the Art of Musical Mischief

by Liz Publika

Victor Borge is often described as a comedian who played the piano. But that’s silly. Borge was a musical prodigy who dearly loved to laugh. Using comedy as a way of exposing the rituals, habits, and expectations that surround classical music, he made light of the performance culture that had grown up around it. He relished the opportunity, actually.

Photo of Victor Borge as the host of a 1968 television Christmas special.

His mother was the first to notice his gift. At the keyboard, Borge belonged to an older European school of playing: clean, elegant, unforced. One critic once described his approach as “the incommunicable technique of magnificence.” There's consensus around this point. He could quote Beethoven, pivot into Chopin, imitate Debussy, and then seamlessly weave in “Happy Birthday” without breaking the musical line.

Timing was his real instrument. Remarks at his Kennedy Center Honors praised his ability to play “brilliant piano in the clumsiest possible way,” and his gift for improvisation. If something unexpected happened — a dropped object, a loud sneeze, a rude interruption — he could fold it into the performance so smoothly it appeared planned. Nothing drifted. Intention dictated every note.

Playing The Blue Danube while seated backwards; tormenting a page‑turner by tugging on a tie; spending an absurd amount of time adjusting the bench before playing a note — all of these routines worked because he treated trivial actions with the seriousness usually reserved for a difficult passage, allowing classical decorum itself to become comic material.

Language functioned as another instrument. His famous “phonetic punctuation” routine — assigning sounds to commas, periods, and question marks — required precise internal counting and breath control. Voice and rhythm moved in parallel lines. Later in his career, he drew openly on his struggles with English, using slight mispronunciations and literal misunderstandings as carefully placed disruptions.

Early stage fright led him to speak to audiences between pieces. Laughter reduced the pressure. He kept the standards of a serious recital in mind while building in comic diversions that made the experience less intimidating for everyone in the room. He took a similar approach in his television work and children’s programs, where he often reversed roles, letting children “entertain” him.

I suppose, given all of that, what makes Victor Borge endure is the simple fact that he, much like his audience, wanted to enjoy his work and laugh a little. If you have a moment, check out his musical improvisation of "Czardas" with Anton Kontra (1932-2020) for a little musical mischief.  

Note* Image of Victor Borge is in the Public Domain.