Taxi cabs with doors that open automatically. Warm toilet seats that salute you when you enter the restroom. People bowing respectfully when you enter and leave a building.

Yes, it was great to be back in Japan.

Originally I was not supposed to return until November 2014, but Andre Previn decided that he could not conduct three weeks in a row and I picked up the middle set of performances. As it turned out, I had the time and was anxious to return after some wonderful performances last season.

Some people loathe going back to work. I relish it, especially when it entails conducting one of the biggest masterpieces in the repertoire.

Performances of the Berlioz Requiem are still a relative rarity. It turns out that even in Lyon the work has never been performed at the orchestra’s home auditorium. This was the season opener and you could not ask for much more in the way of a spectacular start.

There are some promises that must be broken occasionally. After vowing a real vacation this summer, I accepted an invitation to be one of the participants in John Williams’s 80th birthday concert at Tanglewood. The actual date of his coming into the world was in February, but John only wanted one celebration and it was to take place in the Berkshires.

When I was young, John was but a studio pianist in LA. It could hardly have been predicted that he would become one of the most important composers in the world. He worked often with my parents, showing the curiosity for the music business that would mark his entire life. From his role as a keyboardist, to that of an arranger, to a jingle and TV composer and finally to the big screen, John’s path was clear and well defined.

Several months ago, I vowed that I would actually take a vacation for most of the summer. That meant little conducting, a bit of study and a lot of sleep. One of the downsides of the conducting profession is the inevitable life on the road, so I decided to spend the majority of down time at home. We have a lovely house located far enough from downtown as to be thought of as an escape from work.

My son was visiting, preparing for life as a college student. He will be attending USC, bringing a part of my earlier life back into play. His course of study includes music management. I am not sure if it will be “My Son, the Agent,” but he has become fascinated with this part of the business. To that end, I was just a little surprised when he learned that the rock group Yes was coming to the Detroit area to perform.

As I write this, we are less than a week from the publication of Conducting Business. The first copies are now in my hands and it looks very good. There was just the slightest tremble in my hand as I ripped open the box containing the tome and wondering if this really was happening.

There will be some book signings, radio shows and newspaper interviews to do. In Lyon I was asked if there was anything about my new orchestra in the book. Sadly, no, as not enough time has passed for me to include this experience. Maybe there will be a second edition, with an expanded last chapter. And then there is volume three, which will come after book two, Conducting Standards.

Wrapping up seasons is an occasion to reflect on what has been done or accomplished over the past months. In this case, my first year as music director in Lyon had to be measured as a fine success. But before I led the last two weeks of concerts there, I had one wonderful week in my old stomping grounds.

The National Orchestral Institute has been around for 25 years. It is centered at the University of Maryland in College Park. In some ways it reminds me a little of the New World Symphony in Miami, where I conducted earlier this season. The orchestra is comprised primarily of college age musicians of the highest caliber. They gather for almost four weeks to make music with different conductors and mentors from the leading orchestras in this country.

We are just about a month away from the publication of Conducting Business on July 24. Amadeus Press has graciously allowed me to post the introductory chapter. I hope this makes some of you interested to read more.

Praeludium

There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning. — Louis L’Amour

There is an old joke about the audience member who comes up to the conductor after a performance. Having heard a full program, she says, “That was lovely. What do you do for a living?”

Winding down a season usually means that the overall pace slackens a bit. Not this time.

The first week of May was relatively calm, with only one set of concerts in Detroit at Orchestra Hall. My brother joined us for a performance of the Korngold Cello Concerto, written for our mother more than 60 years ago! Fred and I have always enjoyed doing this piece together and everyone was caught up not only with the story behind the story, but the performance as well. It was also a rare opportunity for the two of us to catch up. Usually this is limited to a quick bite to eat when I am in New York.

The Korngold was written for the film Deception and another piece on the program, Tristan and Isolde Fantasy, was composed for the 1946 drama Humoresque. The unusual scoring for violin and piano solo with orchestra was what composer Franz Waxman came up with for the moment when Joan Crawford walks into the ocean and kills herself. On this occasion it was played by our acting concertmaster Kim Kennedy and pianist Cameron Smith. No one was harmed in the presentation of this piece.

The question on everyone’s lips was, “What is this going to be like?”

The answer was, “Fabulous.”

Over the years I have done my share of concerts with acts from the popular music culture. It started when I was the assistant conductor in Saint Louis. We had a series devoted to the earliest attempts at crossover, performing with diverse artists such as the New York Rock and Roll Ensemble, B. B. King and Odetta. Symphonic Rock was in evidence with the work of Emerson, Lake and Palmer, the Beatles and Pink Floyd. Metallica had a show arranged by Michael Kamen.

“You’re baddass!”

These two words were spoken to me following a concert in one of Detroit’s suburbs. A young woman came up to me, looked me in the eyes and that is what she said.

After figuring out that this was a compliment, I realized that perhaps there are ways to reach the younger generation that I had not yet contemplated. Was it our performance of the “New World” Symphony? Perhaps it was because we were playing in a Temple.