Whose reputation is it anyway?

 Some thoughts on how the reputations of classical artists.

During the last twelve months, I’ve seen a huge amount written about the Finnish conductor Klaus Makela. Mr Makela has been the principal conductor of the (very good) Oslo Philharmonic since 2020 and of the Orchestre de Paris since 2021. In 2022, it was announced that, from 2027, Mr Makela would become music director of the Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra (one of the world’s greatest) and then, last year, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (another of the world’s greatest orchestras) announced that he would also be their music director from 2027. Mr Makela turns 29 in January 2025.

This has generated a huge amount of discussion. Initially, much of this was dominated by the howls of the incredulous – how could he be in charge of FOUR big orchestras?!! It has been repeatedly pointed out that Makela will stand down from the Oslo and Paris posts in 2027 but that will still leave him in charge of two of the greatest orchestras in the world. Mr Makela’s rise has been little short of meteoric. The Oslo Philharmonic was his first post as music director and he has quickly progressed to two very big jobs. How can that be warranted? Herein lies the controversy.

Conductors cannot achieve the same musical maturity at the same rate as instrumentalists. By the age of 28, many soloists will have been learning, playing and performing their repertoire for many years. One only needs an instrument and a room to learn a great piece of music. Once the notes are under the fingers, you can play it as often as you like and will, hopefully, learn more about the piece each time. By the age of 28, a pianist might have been playing the Liszt Sonata, or Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata for ten years or more. It is also relatively easy for an instrumentalist to arrange a public recital in which to perform. For a conductor, this is just not possible. They need an orchestra on which to practise their repertoire (not to mention their technique, interpretation, communication and people skills) and orchestras are not so plentiful as instruments in empty rooms. Additionally, most orchestras will perform a work once or twice a season and then leave it a while. It could take some years before a conductor has conducted a particular symphony on more than a few occasions. The conductor Simon Rattle once told how he had been nervous about conducting a particular piece. He confided in Sir Colin Davis who suggested that now was as good time as any: “you might as well start doing it badly some time”.

Mr Makela will have been conducting various programmes with his two orchestras and with others where he guest conducts. He gets good results from orchestras. But can he really be ready to manage two such esteemed ensembles, with all the expectations that come with the positions? And if he isn’t, is it his fault? Of course not. In all likelihood, if any conductor was offered any of the jobs that have come his way, they would almost certainly have accepted. But they haven’t been. Countless talented conductors have worked hard and effectively with regional orchestras and in occasional guest spots with some of the big-league groups without ever getting the sort of break that Mr Makela has had. So what makes him so special?

This is difficult to answer. Various critics and concert-goers have acclaimed him an inspired or even genius conductor, giving white-hot performances in concert. Various others have described him as very ordinary or even awful. They can’t all be right. I’ve had little experience of his music-making. Two years ago, Decca released a complete set of Sibelius symphonies conducted by Makela. Many critics oohed and aahed over it. I had a listen and heard decent performances with a few interesting insights. I enjoyed it but wouldn’t listen to the set again when there are so many others which I consider to be better. Similarly with his recording of Stravinsky’s seminal ballet: The Rite of Spring. In truth, it’s hard to bring something fresh to this piece but, again, many critics raved. I listened and heard a good performance but not one of the best. To my ears, he’s a competent conductor but no more. In ten years’ time I may feel differently.

Decca clearly sees something I don’t as they signed him for an exclusive recording contract (which they have only done with two previous conductors). More importantly to my mind, is that orchestras see something in him. His appointment to the Concertgebouw came after guest appearances with the orchestra. And it was the Chicago musicians who voted for him as their next director, having chosen, in previous years, much more venerable musicians. The nay-sayers are not interested in such details and will shout about him getting ‘too much, too soon’. Others criticise his distinctive conducting style, with lots of full body jerking and a fixed grin (I admit, I find that irritating). Still others (and these voices are perhaps the most valid) say that they, like me,  just don’t hear anything in his music-making to merit his reputation and rise. Only time will tell.

It's interesting though, that the same vitriol has not, as far as I know, been directed  at Yannick Nezet-Seguin, the Canadian conductor who is currently music director of the (very fine) Montreal Symphony Orchestra, the Philadelphia Orchestra (one of America’s finest) and the New York Metropolitan Opera. Is this because Mr Nezet-Seguin is nearly fifty and has been seen to earn his stripes? He certainly worked his way up via various regional orchestras and opera houses, learning his craft on the way. But to take on three such appointments might be seen to be particularly ambitious if not downright greedy! It’s also worth noting that running an opera house is a huge undertaking and that other conductors have contented themselves with just that and some guest conducting (which requires less management work).

That’s not to say Nezet-Seguin is universally acclaimed. Some have criticised what they consider to be very ordinary performances at the opera. Others dislike his showmanship, which includes wearing glittery suits when conducting at the Met (if the idea is that wearing such clothes will make a three-hour opera more appealing, I’m not convinced!). Personally, I’m more perplexed by the amount of exposure he receives: why it is felt that Mr Nezet-Seguin needs to record quite as much repertoire as he does or if he is even ready to do so. In the last ten years, he has recorded (or at least started to record) complete symphony cycles by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler and Rachmaninoff and no less than seven operas. Why the rush? Has he really got something to say about all of these works? Who decided that these recordings (of works which have already been recorded hundreds of times before) were necessary?

I wonder if recording companies feel the need to have a poster boy (or girl, although female conductors, despite being on the rise, remain in the minority) to promote new recordings. If so, perhaps they promote (and over-promote) certain  photogenic or appealing musicians over others. Messrs Makela and Nezet-Seguin receive plenty of publicity but someone like Vladimir Jurowski (who only recently left the London Philharmonic Orchestra) receives comparatively little, despite being a very fine conductor. Similarly, everyone seems to know the pianist Lang-Lang, who loves a photo opportunity and whose range of expressions and poses is possibly greater than his musical repertoire! Less well-known, though, is the blind pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii. I have heard performances and recordings by Lang Lang on a number of occasions. On most of those it’s been, quite by chance, a radio broadcast that I stumbled upon. I didn’t know who the pianist was but didn’t enjoy the performance. (Unkind musicians have nicknamed him ‘Bang-Bang’). I have found Tsujii to be more creative, more nuanced but no less virtuosic in his playing and yet, who’s heard of him? Maybe he is less appealing to the marketing departments?

None of this is new. Back in the 1970’s and 80’s, there was no shortage of well-lit photos of Herbert von Karajan looking ‘artistic’ or looking like ‘Mr Cool’ at the wheel of a sports car. And photos of Leonard Bernstein looking Bohemian in his cloak or broody with his cigarette holder clearly pushed a certain image. Which probably means our listening is being, to a large extent, influenced if not dictated by imagery rather than by musical results. On the one hand, this may not matter if the end result is that people buy classical recordings and listen to classical music. And, in fairness to recording companies, they need to make sales to stay in business. But I do feel that listeners may sometimes miss out by not being more curious or ignoring the publicity machine. These days, I might listen to a recording by a young conductor to see what the fuss is about but I am more likely to go to an older recording by a dead musician, knowing that when the recording was made, the conductor would have lived with the piece and conducted it many times before committing it to disc. I think I am likely to get closer to the music that way.

In the meantime, the excitement generated around people like Klaus Makela may get people to go to concerts or buy records and I’m all for that. Nigel Kennedy’s celebrated recording of The Four Seasons was popular as much for his dress sense and (literally) stomping performance as for the quality of music-making. It sold well and briefly made classical music cool. (Ironically it later backfired when people grew tired of the image that made Kennedy famous and began to see him as an eccentric.) Perhaps that will happen again and Mr Makela’s youthful energy will attract a new audience. I shall continue to put much store in the fact that orchestral musicians (who are not always easily impressed) have queued up to shake Mr Makela’s  hand after rehearsals and concerts. Clearly they’re seeing and hearing something special and I’m inclined to trust them over critics. So I might start listening to Mr Makela’s recordings at some point. But I think I’ll give him time to develop before I do.