Bernstein's (1918-1990) Budapest debut in 1948 is one of the great legends of Hungarian music history. He conducted the Metropolitan Orchestra at the Music Academy in a programme of Bartók, Ravel and Schumann and astonished the local audience. Although he was unknown to Hungarians, Bernstein was already celebrated in the New World as both conductor and composer. His Symphony no. 1 Jeremiah, written for mezzo-soprano and orchestra, was premiered in January 1944 and later awarded a prize by the New York Music Critic's Association as the best American composition of the year. During his first Hungarian visit, he was already at work on his next symphony. The symphony, which is a combination of piano concerto and variation form, was ready in 1949. Bernstein subsequently revised it in 1965.
Unlike his Symphony no. 1, which betrayed clearly the influences of Aaron Copland and William Schumann, the Symphony no. 2 is a homage to the art of Hindemith. The symphony demonstrates clear parallels with Hindemith's 1940 ballet, The Four Temperaments, itself is a set of four variations. It was premiered in 1946. Bernstein took the English poet W. H. Auden's work The Age of Anxiety as a starting point. The verse is the portrait of four people, four New Yorkers who meet in a New York bar during the war years. The symphony does not adhere to the text, and has no connection with it in its processes, but the two works are linked by the sense of war as an oppressive mood permeating all. The symphony comprises of two large sections, each made up of three movement, and begins with a brief prologue (The Prologue) which is followed by seven variations. The titles of the variation groups (The Seven Ages, The Seven Stages) quotes lines from Auden's verse. The second section like the first is through composed. It begins with a Dirge in a lugubrious largo tempo, followed by a fast dance movement Masque. This is distinguished from the other movements by the use of jazz, but also the unusual orchestration (piano, harp, celesta, percussion instruments). We recognise the easy virtuosity of the composer of West Side Story, but in this context, this general Bernsteinian trait – although certainly a stark contrast – does not create the sense of carefree release. Rather it throws dark shadows, the bleak impetus only finally resolved  by the trumpet fanfares of the final movement (The Epilogue). In the Epilogue, meditative and in places Bartokian piano solos, alternate with orchestra sections, the inner tensions describe an immense arch at the peak of which an immense block of sound closes the work.