Reunions and a debut marked this past month, with a few side trips along the way. And of course, we had an election. More about that in a moment.

Nearly two years had passed since my last visit to the Detroit Symphony. As its music director laureate, I have the honor of being regarded as the grand old man with a degree of experience that can make a difference. I picked up right where I left off with the musicians who knew me during the ten years that I led the ensemble. Rehearsals were efficient and filled with musical information that needed to be digested quickly because we only had two days to rehearse instead of three. Absorbing the material is challenging when the schedule is condensed, especially for younger musicians who are unfamiliar with the repertoire.

Sometimes plans come together in ways that might be predicted but at the same time offer wonderful surprises. I knew that the early September birthday celebrations were just a part of what was to come throughout the season, but I had no idea of the impact they would make on me.

After the successful premiere of Daniel’s Voyager 130 in Dublin, we headed to Lyon for another performance of this piece and other works by members of clan Slatkin. This was a two-week stint, a rare privilege for a guest conductor, but this milestone birthday has its benefits. Settling into one place for an extended stay means at least one less airplane.

80 is not the new 60; it is 80—period.

Not that it seems to have mattered very much, as I feel great. The new number on the left has been around for a few weeks now, and gradually, I have eased my way back into season-opening form.

On September 1, we had a few friends over to the house for wine and cheese, followed by more wine. Cindy had surprised me the previous evening with some wonderful gifts, including the new computer on which I am writing this essay. Looks much better, doesn’t it?

As I write this, it is a few days before September 1^st. At this time, I have no idea what is being planned for the day the birthday number on the left changes. Sometimes, momentous occasions are best celebrated quietly.

If it were up to me, I would simply watch a Cardinals game, fire up the Big Green Egg, and spend a quiet day at home with Cindy. A special bottle of wine might enhance the festivities, although we usually just have a single glass. However, I suspect that a few friends will stop by, and we shall be ready for them.

In August 1964, I made my first public appearance as a conductor. I had done bits of stick-waving in high school and had led the Marriage of Figaro Overture with the California Youth Symphony, but this was the true beginning of my musical life on the podium.

The place was Aspen, Colorado. I went there as a conducting student under the watchful eye of the Aspen Music Festival’s music director, Walter Susskind. Sixty years ago, this mountain town did not have traffic lights. Boutiques were unheard of, except for those selling skiing equipment. There were only two fine-dining establishments, the Copper Kettle and the Chart House (for steaks). The student orchestra rehearsed in the high school gymnasium.

Three very different weeks ensued during June, representing the traditional, the unconventional, and the educational. All were satisfying and made for a fine start to a not-too-busy summer conducting schedule.

After a month away from the podium, it was time to pick up the baton and strike up the bands, first in Bilbao, Spain. I was not exactly looking forward to this trip, as a scheduling error resulted in only a single conducting engagement in Europe as opposed to the usual two, three, or sometimes eight weeks overseas.

May was a time for catching up and working on projects without conducting anything. With the score-study volumes in full swing, I need to stay ahead of the game with the research and writing. Volume Two is already at the publisher with an anticipated release date in October. My job now is to focus on the next book in the series, although its path to publication is not yet clear.

In addition, I have written two new compositions that will be premiered next season. The first is a set of Scarlatti keyboard sonatas that I have transcribed for orchestral wind ensemble. The first performance will be in St. Louis in October on a program that also features a piece by Cindy as well as a new one by my son, Daniel.

Let’s see: terrific orchestra, great weather, beautiful ocean views, fantastic food and wine, lovely people, and scenic mountains. As the refrain goes, “Who could ask for anything more?”

Such was the first part of April, with two weeks spent in my new role as Principal Guest Conductor of the Orquesta Filarmonica de Gran Canaria. If you had asked me as recently as twenty years ago if I would be spending much time conducting orchestras in Spain, the answer would have been no, but the post-Franco years have seen an explosion of culture in this part of the world.

Adventures new and old marked a busy March calendar. Overall, it was a most pleasant time on the road.

I had never visited, much less conducted in, Vancouver for reasons unclear. Perhaps it was not on my agent’s radar until recently, but the VSO is certainly a prominent orchestra on the Canadian landscape. Fortunately, the stars finally aligned for my debut in British Columbia.

February was education month for me, in a couple different ways. In recent years, I have devoted some time to teaching at university music schools and conservatories. More than likely, most people think this is a one-way street, with the professor passing down knowledge accumulated over many years.

In fact, I probably learn more from the experience than the students do. Assessing the health of music education in our society by finding out what it is really like in the artistic/academic world has become something of a pet project for me. I am gleaning that there is considerable talent out there, perhaps too much for the marketplace.

Although many people think of St. Louis as being in the southern part of the country, we can have some winter weather close to that of Buffalo, New York. Such was the case in the middle of January, when the temperatures dipped below zero; thankfully, the snow was minimal.

All bundled up, I began a two-week stay with my old band, the SLSO. Many things are different this year, not the least of which is that Powell Hall is under renovation and the orchestra has had to relocate. They play in two venues, one of them being the Stifel Theatre, the orchestra’s former home until 1968, when the R.K.O. St. Louis Theatre was converted from a movie palace into one of the finest concert halls in the country.

And a joyous New Year to all of you! Hopefully 2023 ended on a high note.

While most people head home for the holidays, Cindy and I usually go on an extended vacation. For the most part, we travel to places that are somewhat remote. Past trips have taken us to Morocco, the Galapagos, and the Amazon. This time we explored Tanzania.

To say that November was a jam-packed month would be an understatement. With the middle portion of a six-week concert tour in full swing, I realized that no two works would be repeated during this trip. Only one of them was new to me, however, and as I explained in last month’s journal entry, The Fountains of Rome became an old friend during the first stop back in October.

Continuing in Spain, I moved on from Valencia to Madrid. In times’ past, the country, in general, was not a pleasant place to make music. Its resident orchestras were undisciplined and did not possess the musical values I was used to in other parts of the world. That has changed drastically over the past fifteen years or so, with exciting and vibrant music-making now taking place throughout Spain, even in smaller cities.

The road beckoned, and I travelled west and east for what I hoped would be lovely sets of concerts. That wish has so far come true, but the intrusions on beauty by events taking place at home and abroad prevented total immersion in the music.

Over and over, I kept wondering what those of us who practice our art in public could do as war broke out in Gaza. And as usual, there was no answer. Organizations and individual artists can make statements, but ultimately we are powerless to do much more than offer some sort of diversion for a little while to those who attend our performances. The audience comes to the concert hall or opera house to escape the outside world. And, to an even greater degree, so do my fellow musicians, who work tirelessly to get to the heart and soul of the music we play.

A mostly calm and quiet September followed my 79th birthday, but I experienced one moment that made my month.

Not wanting to make a big deal out of turning another year older, I decided to go to a ballgame that evening. Instead of getting the tickets online, I headed to the ballpark’s box office. When I arrived downtown, other than noticing that the once-teeming metropolis that is St. Louis felt more like a ghost town, I went directly to the ticket window.

Nothing quite compares to a Taiwanese massage, especially if you happen to be in Taiwan. More on that later.

After several weeks away from conducting, the podium beckoned for some rehearsals and performances at the end of July and the first half of August. It started in my birthplace, Los Angeles, where I used to have the somewhat ungainly title of Principal Conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Holllywood Bowl. My return featured two of the most-often- performed works there, as well as a piece by Cindy.

Most of this summer consists of downtime. With so many ongoing and looming projects, I knew I would need to dedicate many of these weeks to my books, music compositions, and outdoor grilling pursuits.

Although I had one conducting date at the Hollywood Bowl, I will wait until next month to write about it, along with what I anticipate will be a most interesting couple weeks of conducting in Taiwan.

How life changes.

Normally, June is when orchestral seasons wind down, with subscription concerts ending sometime near the middle or end of the month. At least, that seems to be true when you are a music director. Now that I am a freelancer, the time for guest conducting has passed, and I get to focus on projects that do not require me to be on the podium.

There was a time when I would look at my calendar and say to myself, “Self, you are not too busy. Have a nice summer.” That was how it appeared it was going to be for a while this year. But priorities have a way of piling up, and now I find myself with just a little too much to do and not much time to accomplish it.

It all started out with a promise I made to my brother at his gravesite. He passed away on my birthday, September 1^st, and we gathered in New Jersey two days later to lay him to rest.

Orchestras are heading into the home stretch as the season winds down. Fortunately, I have had enough downtime to continue my work on some projects that do not involve standing on the podium, and this will be the case for most of the summer. At the end of September, I hope to be able to inform you of what I think are a couple exciting pieces of news.

In the meantime, I wrapped up this season’s concert appearances in Europe with a performance of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis in Warsaw. This was my third outing with the work, and it has not lost any of its power or difficulty. When I was around twenty years old, I played viola for a performance at UCLA conducted by Roger Wagner. Some of you will remember the recordings made by his Chorale.

Do you remember when airplane travel was fun? There was a time when the flights were just as exciting as the trip itself, for all the right reasons. Today, travel is an adventure before you even get to the airport.

Organization is the key to relieving much of the stress that accompanies journeys both domestic and international. This means you have to know the rules and, at the same time, understand that forces outside of your control can change even the best-laid plans.

Quad counties to merge orchestral institutions

Mesquala, NE

In a highly unexpected move, the collective boards of the orchestras in Abilonia, Quintanova, Mesquala, and Sustanati counties have voted to merge their four groups and call the resulting organization the QUAS Symphonic Ensemble. Although each county has maintained an independent orchestra for the past thirty-five years, sources say that the financial pressures have been too great to surmount.

Each year, in addition to my activities at the Manhattan School of Music, I try to do some educational work at other music institutions in the States. These are almost always schools I have never visited, and it gives me a chance to see how we are doing in terms of training young musicians who are about to begin their professional careers.

In late January, it was Yale’s turn, the university where Cindy earned her master’s degree and one with an excellent tradition of outstanding scholarship. At first, I only was asked to lead a concert with the orchestra, but after a little bit of prodding on my part, I was also able to participate in a session involving the composition students.

“Don’t step on the iguana!”

And with those words, Cindy and I arrived at the Galapagos Islands for 10 days of truly incredible vistas and encounters with wildlife. It turns out that Ecuador is pretty much a straight shot down from St. Louis, but you wouldn’t know it from the route that the three airplanes took to get to San Cristóbal Island and back. As is the case so often, the travel part was the least fun.

2022 was a particularly difficult year for me. The music-making (when it occurred) was fine, Cindy and I took some wonderful trips, and I started some projects that you will learn about over the next several months.

But I lost some good folks along the way, first and foremost my brother, Fred. After he passed away, I posted a chapter of a book that I was working on. It was a portrait of my baby brother. When I found it in a folder, I also discovered that he had completed an essay about our mom. I had written one about our dad, but Fred knew more about our maternal side and was the keeper of the family archives.

November marked a relatively calm month of conducting good music, and nothing overly strenuous. Consequently, as I begin a period of several weeks off, I do not need much time to wind down. Well, maybe I should not discount jet lag as I adjust to the time difference between Japan and St. Louis.

In the past month, I had the opportunity to lead a group of wind players in a Chamber Music Society of St. Louis concert, which included a beautifully played Serenade for Wind Instruments by Dvořák; Stravinsky’s L’histoire du soldat, a piece I had not conducted in quite a while; and the Petite Symphonie by Gounod.

Finally, it was back to more-or-less regular music-making. Although one could still see signs of Covid with different restrictions in place at restaurants, in public gathering places, and in concert halls, everyone seemed happy to be back doing what they love.

The first stop on a three-week tour was in Hannover, Germany. This northern city is home to my longtime agents in Europe, KD Schmid. Ever since I began conducting, they have overseen most aspects of my career in Europe. I was quite sure I had never conducted in the city where they are headquartered.

In the month after my brother’s passing, much of what I accomplished was colored with loss. Although I was always able to do what was asked of me, there were moments of heaviness when I became distracted by wonderful memories of Fred’s life. But carry on we must.

For the second time, it was my privilege to conduct the final round of the International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. Under the expert leadership of Glen Kwok and chairman Jaime Laredo, this has become the most prestigious of all the violin contests in the United States. It attracts competitors from around the world, with six players advancing to the last round.

As planned, August was a relatively quiet month for music-making. In fact, my only scheduled appearance was in Chicago, where I helped celebrate the 50^th anniversary of the National Flute Association at their annual convention. In addition to conducting five works for various flutes and orchestra at Symphony Center, I also gave the conference’s keynote address.

Who doesn’t like the flute? No one, according to the attendees of various recitals, masterclasses, ensemble performances, and other activities related to the instrument. Even though I did not participate in the full range of flute events available, by the time we played the last notes of the concert, I was longing for a contrabassoon.

Quite some time ago, I planned for this summer to be one of peace and quiet, with very little conducting and a lot of time to focus on other projects. For the most part, this is working out well.

On the book front, I have nearly completed a fourth volume of my writings. Primarily a memoir, Words Without Songs fills in some major gaps in what I have written previously about my life, with lengthy chapters about my father and mother as well as one about my brother. Because so many people have asked about my family’s relationship to Frank Sinatra, there is also a chapter devoted to “The Voice.” In addition, I recount various pranks my cohorts and I used to pull, some of them quite outrageous.

For a complete change of pace, I decided to take most of the summer off, starting in June and going through mid-September. I agreed to participate in a couple isolated events, but they are not with the usual suspects. One of them occurred in early June.

I was sitting around, working on the two books—yes, I have almost finished one and started another—when an interesting proposal popped up on my computer screen. To comprehend what it really meant, you must understand that the cultural history of Missouri is quite complicated. We are only 300 miles south of Chicago, but Memphis is just down river. Are we considered part of the South or the North?

With the musical season winding down and summer almost upon us, my last conducting dates took place on behalf of others. Let me explain.

In mid-April, I received a call from the Rhode Island Philharmonic asking if I were available to stand in for Bramwell Tovey to conduct the final concerts of their subscription series. I had filled in for him on two occasions last season, conducting concerts with smaller forces. This time, I had the opportunity to work with the full orchestra. Bramwell’s program included the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven and works by Brahms and Barber to begin. As a guest, one does not often get the chance to do this symphony, as it is usually reserved for the music director.

Highs and lows dominated the opening of the spring season. My old globe-trotting ways have returned, but numerous restrictions, protocols, and health checks made parts of the journey burdensome.

I was in Europe at the end of March, having conducted a fine concert in Dublin. It was a luxury to be able to stay in the city and do a second week with the NSO of Ireland. This booking scheme used to be commonplace for me but is a rarity now. Single dates dominate my conducting schedule these days.

Usually, when I begin writing these monthly essays, I have a pretty good idea as to how they will be structured. The beginning and end are clear, and all that I need to do is fill up the space in between. But March was different, in so many ways. If there was one thought that permeated the time, it had to be the continuing devastation in Ukraine.

Tales of grief and woe, as well as ominous portents, made themselves known through stories on television, in print, and via internet. Amid efforts to censor and exaggerate, a portrait of our mad world became clear. I spent this month working and taking a bit of time off in Europe. Getting perspective away from home is always useful and, for a change, much of the world seemed in agreement regarding the crisis. Where it all fell apart was coming to solutions.

Musicians are wondering what they can do in the wake of the brutal invasion of Ukraine. And the answer is, not much. With my father’s side of the family being from that region of the world, this provocation hits close to home. My friends, Russian and Ukrainian alike, are distraught and united in their support of those being attacked.

I guess no one can really understand how a conflict such as this can occur in the 21^st century. Images of 1939 are flashing before our eyes as a tyrant once again attempts to dominate the world scene. And woe to those who dare to oppose him. Will we stand idly by as this blatant breach of world norms continues? Is there anything other than wishful thinking that can take place?

Another month, another period of no conducting. There was a time when I would have been quite happy to write those words, but as the pandemic drags on, a degree of frustration is kicking in.

I only had one date scheduled for January. I was supposed to work with the students at Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh. This engagement had already been postponed once, and when the school decided they were not ready to get back to in-person learning, the second strike was thrown.

Happy New Year!

Just when we thought nothing was worse than 2020, good old Father Time reminded us that he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

December ended quietly for Cindy and me. The only conducting I did was a set of holiday concerts in Lyon and Aix-en-Provence. Originally, we had planned to do the rarely performed Christmas Oratorio by Saint-Saëns, but the ONL was still in concerts-without-intermission mode, so that idea went away.

As we come to the end of this decade, which has taken place in less than one year, it seems like a good idea to take stock of what has been accomplished during a time when it has felt like we could do nothing. Many of us have had to find opportunities where none seemed to exist, and perhaps some of us will come out of 2020 a little wiser.

Being a conductor was not the best profession during the self-imposed and sometimes-mandated lockdown period. The instrumental and vocal artists could at least practice. What was I supposed to do—stand up and wave my arms? After a few weeks of cancellations, I realized that looking over the scores meant to be rehearsed and performed in the near future was a futile exercise. Instead, I would go down to my library and peruse pieces that I either have never conducted or might want to revisit at some time.

For your listening pleasure this holiday season, I am happy to share Inspired Themes from the Inspired Films, an album arranged and conducted by my father, Felix Slatkin, in 1962. The recording features twelve tracks from the great biblical epics. On one of them, my parents are the violin and cello soloists, marking the only time they ever performed a duet for a commercial release.

Happy Holidays!

Throughout my adult life as a musician, I have never experienced what most people would call a daily routine. Those of us in the profession don’t keep regular hours. We have rehearsals and concerts on different days at different times. Sleep patterns change depending on when we complete our work and then start up again.

Now that I have been holed up in my bunker for six weeks (or has it been six months?), I have a consistent regimen. It did not take long to settle in, and I suppose it was inevitable that some sort of pattern would emerge. Conductors do not practice at home; they study whichever works are next on the agenda. As the cancellations kept rolling in, the need to have pieces ready to go disappeared.

Well, here we are, mostly stuck at home—some working, others studying, and many trying to figure out what to do to fill the time. For me, the month started quietly, but by the time I started rehearsing with the DSO for planned performances of Carmina Burana, the World Health Organization had declared the coronavirus a pandemic, and life in the United States began to change. The next few days brought concert cancellations, starting with those in Detroit.

Next it was with the young musicians of The Orchestra Now at Bard College in New York. We were supposed to play a program in Manhattan, but the school shut down classes, and you just cannot rehearse an orchestra virtually.

¡Viva España!

It is not often that I get to spend a whole month in a country other than the United States. The couple of times it has occurred, I was involved in an opera production, when you have to hang around through the rehearsals and performances. This past month, following the week in Dublin, Cindy and I headed for Spain, where I had two weeks of concerts and two weeks of sightseeing.

Starting off in Mallorca, I was in familiar territory. Having conducted there a couple years ago, I knew the orchestra and most of the city. As with so many European ensembles, the Balearic Orchestra does its rehearsing in a studio, away from the concert hall where it performs. Although I have written about this situation before, it bears repeating. The hall is to the orchestra as the violin is to the violinist. Imagine soloists needing to practice using one instrument but doing the final rehearsal and performance on another. Yes, I know that pianists have the same, if not a worse problem, but they can still develop their own personal sounds and styles by themselves.

Between impeachment and Brexit, working in the States and Europe is provoking more questions than answers. Good thing that I could concentrate on some truly wonderful music-making during the first month of the New Year.

Before heading east, Cindy and I went out to LA, visiting Daniel and Bridget for a few days. After a half year of marriage, they are doing great, and both have really exciting projects ahead. We spent a lovely New Year’s Eve with her family, and the next day had dinner with Jeff Beal and his wife, Joan. Daniel and I also took in the ninth installment of Star Wars. It seemed to wrap up the story, but it also seemed just a bit cumbersome in having to deal with so many threads from the past films. Still, being old enough to have seen them all in a theater, I can say that it has been a true pleasure. Watching the cycle grow and reach several generations is a thing of wonder.

As the clock approaches midnight, it still seems appropriate to have a look back. December was a month that began with sadness for Cindy and me but ended with an even greater appreciation for friends and family.

Charles McTee passed away at age 91, about seven months after his wife Jaquelin died. It is difficult enough losing one parent, but two in the same year is truly heartbreaking. I first got to know Chuck and Jackie about ten years ago, and they were a wonderful addition to my family.

They lived all their lives in the small town of Eatonville, Washington, she as a teacher and he as a businessman. Their love and respect for each other was on display every minute. It was evident that they had raised two fantastic daughters, Christy, who lived nearby, and Cindy.

There was a lot of meat, some stuffing and a bit of corn on the table. No, I am not talking about the Thanksgiving meal, but rather the musical buffet that made up the month of November.

One of the benefits of having more weeks available for guest conducting has been the opportunity to visit orchestras I have not conducted in quite a while. Buffalo, Rochester and Toronto filled that bill. Detroit was sandwiched in there, but now I return as the music director laureate, a job more like a guest conductor with a few additional administrative responsibilities.

Journeys unknown and paths less taken were part of last month’s itinerary. After a leisurely jaunt through most of Ireland, it was back to work in a very unusual setting. But there were also visits to the familiar and celebrations to be had.

Being on the freelance circuit has some built-in advantages. For me, it is an opportunity to drop into parts of the musical world I have never seen as well as traverse long-desired destinations. Ireland was certainly one of those, but it was also a chance for Cindy to connect with a large part of her family heritage.

I know, I know. You want to hear about my fake-news death and the Jimmy Kimmel show. That will come a bit later in this entry. To start, I need to get back to music.

After a five-week absence from the podium, very intentional, I returned for a set of single, one-off concerts during September. It seemed a bit strange, but I wound up opening the season for the Houston Symphony. Usually in the States, these programs are done by the music director, but as Maestro Orozco-Estrada has two positions, he had to give up one opening night, allowing me to return to the orchestra for the first time in several years.

“Welcome to Busch Stadium. It is a beautiful day for a ball game with temperatures in the upper 70s and a few clouds helping to keep the crowd cool. The Cincinnati Reds come in for this first game of today’s double-header with the Cardinals sitting atop the National League Central division by two-and-a-half games …”

For the past two days, various cards, messages and gifts had been coming in, all in anticipation of my impending milestone marking three-quarters of a century on the planet. This was all leading up to the big day itself, but I found myself moved by the early heartfelt wishes of so many people.

Lurking around the corner is the monster simply known to me as 75. This is not to be confused with the film that will hit theaters soon, It: Chapter Two, but the comparisons are not too far off. There is this entity that tries to lure both young and adult human beings into another world. In the Stephen King story, it is simply to scare the bejesus out of those watching events unfold, and in my life story, it is a landmark both to be appreciated and a little frightened of. I do know that Pennywise wears more makeup than I do.

Prior to the first of September, for me AKA b-day, I only had one conducting assignment during the month of August. But it was an important one, as it marked a milestone in my podium history.

“Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife.” —Franz Schubert

Aside from my own, I had never attended a wedding of any kind during my entire lifetime. After all these years, on July 7^th, I found myself at the Sherwood Country Club in Thousand Oaks, California, watching, and crying a little, as my son married his fiancée and companion, Bridget Laifman. About one hundred people attended the ceremony, followed by a joyous celebration of the union during the reception and dinner.

“I actually think that the job of chief conductor is becoming obsolete. The famous names from the past, Willem Mengelberg and Eduard van Beinum, spent a lot of time in Amsterdam. These days chefs constantly travel from one orchestra to another.”

Those words come from the soon-to-retire Bernard Haitink. Boy, does he have it right. After a full season of simply being a guest conductor, I believe that the musical landscape has changed significantly, and one of those alterations has to do with the perceived necessity of having a music director. I will get to this topic a bit later in this piece, but first, there was one week of work left before the summer break.

Life with fewer responsibilities. It has been a long time coming, but I have a feeling that new challenges await. In the meantime, hitting the guest circuit has been a most refreshing change for me.

Not that there are not tasks to be accomplished as well as other goals to be achieved. After the heart procedure, I heard one thing loud and clear: lower stress. For this first season, after more than 40 years as the person in charge, I wound up working as hard as usual but felt freer to make music at a different level. No longer did I worry about making so many decisions that might impact others in either a positive or negative way. Just leading rehearsals and concerts seemed like plenty to do, and now I could do it in a more focused way.

This April was a month like no other, similar to a rollercoaster ride of emotion, conflict and elation.

On Easter Sunday, Cindy’s mother passed away. At age 89, Jackie was a bundle of energy. Over the past few years, that vitality began to dwindle. Although she remained strong in mind, her body was giving way to infirmities. Ultimately, she decided to forgo her medications, preferring to let nature do its thing and spare her from the inability to be a physically functioning presence in her home.

On the other side of the world, musicians are doing what they are supposed to do: connecting to the past, present and future.

It was the longest single period I have ever spent in Asia, five weeks working with five different orchestras. Although it would have been easier if the itinerary had not sent me from west to north and then east, jumping back and forth between countries was not as difficult as I expected. Three of the ensembles were new to me, not only because I had never conducted them, but also because I had never heard them.

It is usual at the beginning of the month for me to write a lengthy piece about what I have been doing, along with a bit of travel news. Indeed, that will occur in a couple days, as I am traveling and have not had the chance to put keystrokes to computer in a meaningful way.The reason I am posting this is because of the extraordinary occurrences that took place over the past 24 hours. Some of it was expected, but most came as a shock and surprise to me.It all started as routine, with breakfast in the restaurant at my hotel in Shanghai. As usual, I perused the local English newspaper, the Shanghai Daily. There were two headlines that caught my attention, but I moved on to other, seemingly more important articles. The first read, “Local temple acts to comply with garbage management regulations,” and the other, “Robot has power to perform.”

When is a lot of American music simply too much? Never!

The entire month of February was spent conducting creations from the States, some old and some new. Over the course of four weeks, I led pieces by 18 different American composers. Performing these wonderful works was nothing short of exhilarating.

It all started in Bern, Switzerland. They had asked for a program of American works, and I included the Barber Violin Concerto among them. This would be the only piece that I repeated during the whole month. Our soloist was Augustin Hadelich, a violinist I certainly knew about but had never worked with. His sweet tone and sense of rubato for this most romantic of concertos was always in good taste.

Well, that didn’t take long.

After a lovely New Year’s Eve concert in St. Louis with music, fun and friends, Cindy and I got home around 10:30. I had written most of last month’s web piece and sent it off to post. It never dawned on me that there might just be something cringeworthy to start off 2019.

I have never been one to do much to celebrate the arrival of the next twelve months. It was sort of exciting the first time my parents let me stay up to watch the ball drop in Times Square, but I was in Los Angeles, so I actually saw it at 9:00 in the evening. In 1968, I did venture down Broadway, but not to get into the crowd gathered to hoot and holler. Instead I went to the theater with the largest screen to view 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some years I led concerts in various parts of the world, but mostly I stayed in, once in a while tuning in to watch the last moments of the proceedings.

Although it was a good year for a lot of things, many of us were pleased to get rid of 2018. The final month started off with as much, maybe even more, turmoil than usual. Following our adventure in Morocco, Cindy and I headed for the final conducting gig of the year, this one in Paris. But our arrival was anything but calm.

A bit later in the week, I wrote a short piece and thought it might be published in a major newspaper. I was told that the subject really wasn’t being covered in enough depth to warrant an editorial comment from me, so I will now share it with all of you.

So much packed into one month: a return to Lyon, a German tour, a birthday celebration and an exotic holiday!

Although the ONL had opened its season several weeks earlier, I had the privilege of taking the orchestra on a six-concert tour of Germany. That followed a set of performances in the Auditorium as preparatory sessions for the trip. It was clear that we would perform the repertoire that would be played over the course of the tour.

Before our monthly update, it seems like time to think about the world in which we live. I am writing this a few hours before heading to JFK for my six-week European tour. October will seem like a distant memory in a few days, but how far can we go to be away from the hatred and enmity that exists on this horrifically troubled earth?

Predictions of the impending catastrophe of global warming started fueling the fire of divisive rhetoric and indecision this past month. Then there was the ugly spectacle of seeing victims being torn down because they told their stories of harassment and attack. The #MeToo movement appeared to be gaining momentum, but this moved to the back burner quickly.

It feels like forever since I wrote a regular monthly piece for my website, but now that I am conducting again, we can get back to normality.

There was just a bit of trepidation as I approached the podium in Indianapolis to conduct the finals of their violin competition. Almost four months had passed since I last picked up a baton and waved my arms. This was certainly the longest period I had gone without using this set of physical skills. Would there be any strain on my musculature? Did I have adequate strength to get through the rehearsals and concerts? Would the tuxedo still fit after I had lost twenty-five pounds?

Bonnie, over at Kirk’s Pharmacy, has seen it all. Of course, she wasn’t around when the building was the town hospital, founded 113 years ago. She is not in touch with any of the Nisqually Tribe, the original settlers of the region. But she did see the logging town go through its ups and downs. More than likely, she was here when my wife was born. 

Nestled in the northwest of the state of Washington, Eatonville is the very definition of an America that, to most big-city folks, has disappeared. With a population of around 3,000, and sort-of in between the big towns of Seattle and Tacoma, it is one of the last places that you would expect me to have visited often. But for the past eight years, I have come here to spend time with Cindy’s parents, Charles and Jaquelin McTee, who were born at the old hospital almost 90 years ago. They have  resided in the same house for more than 60 of those years.

It all looks so easy. The door opens, the music director enters, the orchestra stands, then they sit, and the conductor starts the concert. Granted, there is a lot of study, preparation and rehearsal before the audience hears one note. But even the members of the band often do not realize the importance of the music director’s assistant in making this all come together.

I am not speaking of an assistant conductor, the one desperately waiting for the boss to come down with something nasty enough to put him or her out of commission for at least one program. That hope of jumping in at the last minute is a dream of so many who have mounted the podium. I should know. In 1974, I took over for three maestri, albeit in different cities. Mostly, at least in the early days, it was my job to learn all the music, observe the rehearsals and give relevant comments about balance to the person conducting.

Ah, the sun, surf and sand. Whether vacationing on the Left Coast, scuba diving in the clear waters of the South Pacific or sipping rum punches on the beaches of Mexico, this time of year is mostly about getting as out-of-shape as possible. Sounds good; no?

No!

Until this summer, I usually could be found at music festivals—leading orchestras, teaching or diving into opera. But, after fifty years of doing exactly that, I decided that it was time for a break. Upon wrapping up my music director tenure in Detroit in June, which was to be followed by finishing the last week of the season in Lyon, I would take a few months off with no plan in place.

Changing residence is always complicated. You must inform friends and family about your new digs. Account information needs to be updated. Finding the best grocery store requires a lot of shopping around. But perhaps the most difficult task to accomplish is the one that involves your automobile.

On a hot, steamy day in my new hometown of Clayton, Missouri, I thought that I had it all figured out. There were, at least so I was led to believe, two places to visit. One was the department that registers your car, and the other was the one where you transfer your license. After a preliminary check, it seemed that all the proper steps had been taken to ensure a trouble-free exchange of information.

After several weeks devoted to health and personal matters, I decided it was time to get back to regular writing. By that I don’t mean just the usual diary entries, as there really is nothing much to talk about, other than changing residence.

That is a big deal, of course. Cindy and I are now ensconced in our new home in St. Louis. Yes, it is back to the scene of my family history, as four generations of Slatkins have lived here. Many people wondered where we would end up. Looking at various sites in California, where the major plus would be access to my son on a more regular basis, we determined that it was not the best choice for us. Taxes are steep, and the state seems quite high up on Mother Nature’s watch list when it comes to earthquakes and fires.

There are times in life when your heartstrings are pulled so tightly that it is impossible to contain your emotion. When that occurs, you transition from one plane of existence into another dimension. Such was the case on June 23^rd.

For the past eight years, the Detroit Symphony has paid homage to individual benefactors during its annual Heroes Gala. On the occasion of my ten-year anniversary at the helm of the orchestra, the board decided that I should now receive this honor, along with two wonderful souls, Harold and Penny Blumenstein. They have been among the strongest advocates for our educational initiatives and certainly deserved this recognition.

A hospital is not supposed to be a place you go for thoughts and reflection. Everyone is there to make you better. But sometimes a question can come up from one of the staff that causes you to think outside the box.

After a couple days, I was told that it was time to take a little walk in the hallway. This was not easy, considering that I was hooked up to various medical devices, not to mention the pain from the surgery. There were others doing the same thing, all of us moving at the speed of the zombies in Night of the Living Dead. Most were accompanied by nurses and sometimes a friend or relative.

Musicians hate, really hate, getting up early in the morning. That is why orchestra rehearsals don’t start until around 10 a.m. So I felt both lethargy and anxiety when I arrived at the University of Michigan Medical Center at 5:30 a.m. to begin preparations for the day’s events.

After the tests that were given the day before, I received clearance to move forward with the procedure. It struck me as odd that I had to pass tests to determine if I was well enough to fix a major disease. What would have happened if I had a cold, or worse? Knowing that the blockage in my arteries was above 90%, it was not impossible to envision another heart attack while waiting to recover from an unrelated illness.

On November 1, 2009, my heart attacked me.

It was a sneak attack, as six weeks prior I was informed by my general practitioner that a physical exam showed me to be in good health. Over the succeeding years I modified my diet but never really followed anything strict.

Eight-and-a-half years later, I entered the University of Michigan Cardiovascular Center for a triple bypass coronary procedure, an attempt to prevent any further disease. The problem was spotted a few days prior to the surgery, thankfully caught in time before another heart attack.

It seemed to take forever, but spring finally arrived. With snow on the ground right through the middle of the month, Detroit was poised for a continuing winter. However, the chill disappeared in Orchestra Hall with a program that warmed the soul.

The star was our concertmaster, Yoonshin Song, who delivered a magnificent reading of the Second Bartok Concerto. In complete command of this fiendishly difficult work, she made it seem less a virtuoso vehicle and more of a rhapsodic carriage. With her wide command of dynamics, expressive approach to the lyrical passages and faultless intonation, it was one of the best collaborations I have ever experienced in this amazing piece.

The groundhog was right. No signs of spring at all during my four-week trip to Europe. Maybe they should try Katowice Katy instead of Punxsutawney Phil.

I am not exactly sure why we did it, but in Lyon it was decided that we would undertake a two-week Scandinavian Festival. This provided an opportunity to revisit a couple of symphonies that I dearly love as well as one new piece that was most enjoyable to conduct and play. Sibelius seems to go in and out of fashion, and today we have a number of Finnish conductors who have brought him back to life.

Even though my music directorship in Lyon has ended, the six-year tenure stayed very much in the forefront during the month of February. At this time, during the usually bitterly cold weather in Michigan, we put on a festival, in the past devoted to a single composer. With Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Brahms and Mozart represented in previous seasons, it was time to try something different.

What could be more natural than bringing some of the repertoire from France back to Detroit? After all, the Motor City was founded in 1701 by the explorer and adventurer Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac. It also happens that I drive one of his automobiles. Okay, so he really was from what is now part of Canada, but still, he did create this bustling town and give it a French moniker.

It is not often that I get a relatively calm month in the middle of the concert season, so January turned out to be a nice breather before the heavyweight demands of the next months. With the DSO French Festival on the horizon, as well as assorted dates in Europe, Cindy and I thought that we could couple concert-giving with R&R.

The first week of January had us wrapping up our Arizona getaway. I had never been to Sedona. Just staring at the majesty of the rock formations was enough to take one’s breath away. It is not difficult to understand why so many artists have been drawn to this part of the United States. Inspiration is visible throughout the region.

“… and a Happy New Year!”

Wasn’t 2017 fun? There was certainly no shortage of mind-numbing events and statements coming from all over the world. There are many days when I am grateful to be able to immerse myself in music, as if seeking refuge from elements of society that have gone off track.

What better piece to convey the conflicts that emerged in 2017 than the Ninth Symphony by Gustav Mahler? This work was the final one I would lead before heading off to vacation. There are so many theories as to the meaning of the final completed symphony, it is impossible to state them all.

What a month! November may be the time to give thanks but, at least this year, it was also the time to visit some old friends.

It all started in Washington with the NSO. I had not been back to my old orchestra for several years. There are many fresh faces but still a majority of musicians whom I hired over my twelve-year tenure. Most everyone seems to be doing very well, and I actually remembered most of their names. A few members have passed away, and some others have retired, but by the time the first rehearsal ended, we all seemed to be comfortable with each other.

A quick glance at my calendar showed me that there was not going to be very much time to rest during the first couple months of the new season. Fortunately, all the conducting was going to be done with institutions I know well, so at least a degree of familiarity lent some cohesion to the whirlwind of rehearsals and concerts. My schedule would include the three orchestras where my career had developed over the past 50 years.

First up was St. Louis. It is hard to believe that it was 49 years ago that a young man first stood on that podium at Powell Symphony Hall. There will be celebrations to come next season, but this year it was a return to one of the pieces that helped put the orchestra on the map. I did not count how many times we performed Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony, but it was probably the work we played the most often.

About a two-hour train ride from Paris to the east lies a city that even many French people don’t know about. But for seventy years, Besançon has been the home to a two-week music festival that attracts a good number of listeners. Every other year there is a conducting competition that has produced a number of outstanding winners, including Seiji Ozawa.

When I began my conducting studies at Juilliard, we were only a class of four students. One of them was Catherine Comet, a French woman who had won first prize in 1963. She would go on to be the first female to ever head up an American orchestra and served as my assistant in St. Louis for two seasons. When Cindy and I met up with some of the people who would assist during the week, we were given the full festival brochure. And in it was Catherine’s picture from more than fifty years ago. I understand that she retired and now lives in Wyoming.

Finally, a relatively quiet month. I did not conduct one note, write a piece of music or play anything on the piano. Okay, there was some studying, as a few new works are on the horizon, but a real vacation was in order, and I took advantage of this rare occurrence.

After the success of the DSO’s Asia Tour, Cindy and I headed out to California. My wife was one of the featured composers at this year’s adventurous Cabrillo Festival of Contemporary Music. Their new music director, Cristian Măcelaru, scheduled one of her works in each of the festival’s two weeks. It was strange being in the audience, as I had never before heard any of her music conducted by anyone other than myself.

What a way to end my concert calendar for the 16-17 season! A three-week Asian tour with the DSO.

This trip was a long time coming. When I began my tenure in Detroit, one of my mantras was that we would not go on the road until we had funding in place. The strike that occurred six years ago meant that we would certainly not hit the tour circuit for a while. But everyone believed that we could meet our goals, and finally, the DSO embarked on an international trip, the first in a very long time.

It is very likely that those of you reading this want to know all about the Cliburn competition. Normally, I would have led with that, but on a more personal, as well as musical level, there was a more important day that took place for me.

After six successful years, I led my final concert as music director of the ONL. That is not meant as a boast, but is simply a fact. When I first arrived in Lyon, the orchestra and its administration were facing a great deal of unrest. There was a controversy regarding a cancelled Japanese tour. The management was changing personnel, and the entire institution was under the threat of severe budget cuts.

YEE-HAW!!!

Greetings from Fort Worth, Texas, where I am serving as Chairman of the Jury for the Fifteenth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. But that opening yell was not just about yellow roses. As you will read later, it became the calling cry for my French orchestra.

May started off with my next-to-last trip as music director of the ONL. It hardly feels as if six years have passed since I began my post in France’s second city. The time has flown by, and we have all accomplished a great deal together. Even with regime changes in our administration, we have all grown, and we enjoy a great reputation throughout the world.

Extremely intense three weeks in the States, with a lot of hard work and results that made it all worthwhile.

With only one day to recover from jet lag, I launched into Mahler’s 10^th Symphony with the DSO. Most of you probably know that this is the work that was left incomplete, as the composer died while writing the piece. Never mind that he was superstitious about Beethoven’s death following the German master’s 9^th; Mahler left enough information via sketches for several editors to try their hands at conjecturing what this last work might have sounded like.

I have a confession. Pretty much throughout my years as a student at the Juilliard School, I hated Gustav Mahler. The symphonies were too long, too loud, derivative and, at least to me, boring. One morning a friend spotted me in the cafeteria and said he had an extra ticket to a concert that night by the Philadelphia Orchestra. I asked what they were playing and he said, “The New York premiere of the Tenth Mahler.”

“Why would I want to hear a work by a composer I don’t like, much less one that he did not finish?”

“Because it is the Philadelphia Orchestra,” my friend replied.

Following the successful tour of the ONL in the States and a few free days at Disney World, it was time to get back to Europe. But in this case, it was to work with two orchestras I had not seen for almost ten years and another that was a debut.

Milan may be the fashion capital of the world, but it is likewise notable when it comes to music and food, two of my passions. La Scala is obviously the drawing card, but the city also has a very good symphony orchestra, known simply as La Verdi. Having made several visits there over the years, I knew what to expect, even though there are many new musicians in the orchestra.

YEE-HAW!

That was the oft-quoted word that characterized my very first trip to the U.S. with an orchestra from another land. February was devoted to the ONL, with a week in Lyon and then a two-week, eight-concert trip to the States.

Taking a full symphony orchestra on a lengthy trip is, literally, always risky business. The promoters in most cities do not want to pay the full fee, and much of the burden falls on the orchestra itself in terms of dealing with the fiscal consequences. But the final result, if most everything goes as planned, can turn out to be a boon for not only the organization, but also the city it represents.

Is there a point in music when the phrase “too much of a good thing” applies? Certainly not when it comes to Mozart. The great Austrian was the focus of our Winter Music Festival, previously inhabited by Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Brahms. But there was also a week when the DSO played out in the neighborhoods, and that is where we start this month’s entry.

For the past six seasons, a great deal of time has been spent performing in outlying communities, away from the grandeur of Orchestra Hall. There remain members of the public who either are unable to travel from the suburbs or still harbor apprehension about coming downtown. Over the course of our series, many of these people have been so taken by the orchestra that they have indeed started to visit The Max again.

Normally at this time, I post a monthly recap of musical events that have taken place, and that entry will appear during the second week of February. But something occurred over this past weekend that compels me to write something off-topic.

It was Saturday in the late morning, as I was driving to Orchestra Hall and listening to the radio, that I first learned of the newly instituted immigration rules that have been put into place. All I could think about was that a little over a hundred years ago, both sides of my family came to Ellis Island seeking refuge from the horrors that were sweeping Russia. Their dream was to come to the States for political, social and religious freedom. Lady Liberty welcomed them with no tears.

It could not have come a moment too soon. One had to wonder how history would paint its picture of this past year. There remains much to be settled, and none of us knows how events in the States or the world will affect the arts. Still, there were two fine weeks of performances left in Detroit before Cindy and I started on a nice, long vacation.

A few years ago, when the DSO went to Carnegie Hall, we inherited a program originally scheduled for the Oregon Symphony featuring Kurt Weill/Bertolt Brecht’s Seven Deadly Sins with vocalist Storm Large. Fiscal demands prohibited our colleagues in Portland from getting to New York, and since we were already headed there for our own program, we also filled in the previous evening.

The Cubs won the World Series for the first time since 1908! Donald Trump was elected President! Cindy and I moved out of our Lyon apartment!

November was a very strange, and extremely busy, month.

It started off with—well—nothing. I was supposed to lead the Pittsburgh Symphony in a set of subscriptions concerts, but the orchestra remained on strike, and I simply stayed at home. After two months a settlement was reached, but it was a couple weeks too late for me to lead the orchestra. Hopefully the resolution will keep the peace for the time being.

After the successful opening of the season in Lyon, it was time to try to achieve the same in Detroit. We certainly had the star power to do it, and there were also a couple of agenda items that I hoped would make this year particularly interesting.

Coming from a background which housed about as much musical diversity as possible, I wanted to try and see if the merging of the popular culture with the classical traditions could sustain itself over the course of the majority of our subscription concerts. “Gershwin and His Children” was the name I chose for this project, basically looking at his influence on composers from all over the world.

With just a little over one month to go before we elect a new President of the United States, there is much to think about. With confrontations between citizens and the police, continued terrorist activity throughout the world, and an insecure economy, one could at least find comfort in the arts, and for a few hours each day, I was able to do just that.

The early part of September was mostly spent getting reacquainted with our house in suburban Detroit. It had been twelve weeks since Cindy and I had seen it, but everything seemed fine, and a sense of security fell upon our souls. All my kitchen utensils were where they were supposed to be, the home theater system was slightly misbehaving, and the everyday rituals came back easily.

The next sentence is one I have very rarely written: I conducted one piece for the entire month of August.

After chronicling the process of putting together Samuel Barber’s opera, Vanessa, there were just four more performances to present. During the winter season, when I have done an opera, usually I found time to fit in a guest conducting engagement during the extended breaks between performances. Even my earlier appearance in Santa Fe saw me dart up to Aspen and over to the Hollywood Bowl.

After a terribly long trip from Nagoya, we arrived in Santa Fe, a place so opposite the Japanese cities we visited on the ONL tour that not only jet lag, but also cultural shock, set in. I am here for the duration of the summer, conducting five performances of Samuel Barber’s masterpiece, Vanessa. When I was here several years ago, I had suggested that this work would be a good one for me to do, and everyone seemed to agree. The fact that it has never been presented at the Santa Fe Opera, which is celebrating its 60th year, took everyone by surprise.

Some of you will remember that a few years ago, I kept a diary, posting almost every day about what turned out to be an ugly chapter in my musical life. The Metropolitan Opera provided the backdrop for what would become an unfortunate confrontation with one of the major divas of today. The New York Times weighed in with “In Revival of Verdi, A New Note of Drama.” They followed up with an article about the great Verdi conductors. Although I was not on the list, it was probably the only time I will appear in a published article with the likes of Toscanini, Muti, and Kleiber.

Most of the time, I devote this space to simply recounting what has taken place over the previous month, at least as far as my musical life is concerned. Every so often I deviate from this if there are abrupt changes in the world that seem to shake all of us to the core, for better or worse. June was one of those months.

Please keep in mind that I do not take political sides or engage in one-sided discourse. These observations are just my own personal thoughts on matters that mean a great deal to me.

First off, I hope you are enjoying the new website. It took a lot of work, but now that it is up and running, I feel more connected to this still-early phase of the twenty-first century.

Winding down activities for the season always feels like the stakes are ramped up. You have to imagine that everything you do is in preparation for what is to come when it all starts up again in a few months. This certainly was the case in May.

The end of a grueling, nine-week global schedule finished up with gusto and subtlety. We literally traveled around the world during these past two months, winding up in Tokyo for a most wonderful three-week stay.

Prior to that, there was much to do in Lyon. The two weeks spent there contained a number of concerts and events, including the announcement that I will be wrapping up my music director tenure with the ONL next season.

Amid the escalating political rhetoric dominating the news, as well as atrocities being committed in the world, there was some comfort in traveling to places old and new for me this past month. I found myself ending each rehearsal period by telling the orchestras I led that we are so lucky to be musicians.

After the exhausting Brahms Festival in Detroit, I began a nine-week road trip, one that took me to orchestras familiar and unknown, at least as far as my own experiences were concerned. The first stop was in Fort Worth, with an ensemble going through its own set of difficulties during a lengthy contract negotiation. Now that I will head up the jury as well as conduct for the next Cliburn Piano Competition, it seemed logical to spend a week getting to know the orchestra a bit better.

When they decided to call it “New Year,” perhaps they were referring to my conducting schedule. With four pieces that I had never performed, all of them substantial works, it was a good thing I had three weeks off beforehand so I could wrap my brain around these creations.

In Detroit, we have been priding ourselves on presenting varied programs with interesting combinations of music. January is the start of our Neighborhood Series, where we go out to seven different locations and perform to audiences that traditionally do not come downtown.

It’s 2016, and this coming year is filled with interesting programs, exciting places to be, and fascinating people to work and play with. But there were some important events that took place last month. Three very demanding programs finished up the old year, with the first week of December particularly complex.

First off, there was the announcement of my extension in Detroit. Some people have assumed that I am planning to retire. This is hardly the case. What is occurring is that at the beginning of the 2018-19 season, I will take a different post with the DSO.

The slight delay in this posting is due to what many of you now will know. After what will be ten seasons with the DSO, I am moving into a different position with the orchestra. At this point, I have no idea what the various questions will be from journalists as well as my regular readers. So I thought it would be a good idea to let you know what is occurring.

This past summer, I took nine weeks off from conducting. Some of that time was devoted to really thinking about what the remainder of my career would look like. I also reviewed what had been accomplished and what was left to do in Detroit. At the same time, contract negotiations for the future were commencing.

What a month!

With both Detroit and Lyon up and running, October was the first month of high-intensity music making on a large scale. With the strains of the Rosenkavalier Suite still in my head, I shifted my focus to Strauss’s earlier opera, Salome, for what would be an amazing evening of drama.

The month before, the ONL had made the decision to cancel the second of two Salome performances, as advanced ticket sales had not been particularly strong. Although our subscription base has increased substantially, anyone can trade out their ticket for a different concert. And the new model, allowing subscribers to decide later whether or not to go to a performance, has made attendance figures less predictable.