[ orchestra

On the second weekend of May, Gustavo Dudamel gave the New York Philharmonic a salsa shock. He gleefully brought the startled players together with the Spanish Harlem Orchestra, an uptown salsa and jazz band, for concerts at Lincoln Center and Washington Heights. The city‘s classical music fans treated it as a cultural breakthrough; Dudamel is expected to transform the orchestra as a cultural institution when he returns in the fall as its music and artistic director.

A day later he was back in Los Angeles to begin rehearsals at a Walt Disney Concert Hall that had been fantastically transformed by Frank Gehry for the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s staging of “Die Walküre.” Transformation — be it cultural, orchestral, personal — has marked Dudamel’s 17 years as music (and more recently artistic) director of the L.A. Phil, which is now coming to an end with his three weeks of concerts in Disney to close the season June 7, followed by a celebratory weekend at the Hollywood Bowl in late August.

But meeting with Dudamel in his dressing room after a “Walküre” rehearsal (the opera begins Tuesday night at Disney and runs for six nights, an act a night, the full opera performed twice) , he says as he has said before, he does not think of this as a culmination, merely the beginning of a new adventure. He’s apartment shopping in New York. But he is keeping his house in Los Angeles.

He’s also departing with two very long new titles as “Die Walküre” premieres: the Diane and M. David Paul Artistic Cultural Laureate of the L.A. Phil and Jane and Michael Eisner Founding Director and Conductor Laureate of Youth Orchestra Los Angeles (YOLA).

Gustavo Dudamel conducts the Los Angeles Philharmonic in a performance of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis at the Walt Disney Concert Hall on Feb. 22.

(David Butow / For The Times)

“We are talking about projects,” he says. “Look, I’m coming back for two weeks in December,” when he will lead Beethoven programs. He returns in the spring. The Bowl will always be a second home.

“I’m living here and I’m not living here,” he explains. “The connection will always be here.”

The energy in New York is, he continues, “super exciting.” And what excites him the most is how comfortable he feels with the very real differences between L.A. and New York.

“As a Latino from Venezuela,” he says, “I have an immediate connection with the New York that is home of salsa. When I was in the womb I was hearing salsa.” His father, Oscar Dudamel, is a trombonist and salsa musician.

But he adds that mariachi, ubiquitous in Mexico and L.A., is also an integral part of Venezuelan culture. “What I have to say is that I am blessed. I’m blessed that both cities are now part of my life.”

Bringing ‘crazy’ ideas to Los Angeles

L.A., of course, has been the major part of his adult life. At 24, an unknown, he made his dazzling U.S. debut in 2005 leading the L.A. Phil at the Hollywood Bowl. Four years later, he became the orchestra’s music director and caught the world’s attention.

There is no doubt that Dudamel’s extraordinary talents would have meant a major career wherever he landed. But, here, he inherited the world’s most culturally open major orchestra, where fresh thinking and new music thrive. Disney Hall allowed him the extraordinary freedom to dream. Being back at Disney, Dudamel admits, is very emotional, especially conducting “Walküre” with Gehry’s sets of billowy, sumptuous clouds and fanciful white papery horses.

“Frank is here with us,” Dudamel exclaims about the architect, who died in December and with whom he had become close. Conducting Wagner’s opera, in many ways, sums up Dudamel’s ambitions, the way he has connected with more sides of L.A.’s cultural landscape than possibly any other artist.

In L.A., Dudamel grew as an artist and a person, he says, through his relationship with an orchestra that is uniquely flexible and a welcoming community. This allowed Dudamel to be what he likes to call “crazy.”

“I remember the first time I came here. I didn’t have a chance to do or see anything,” he says of his Bowl debut. “So, I remember driving from the airport to Sunset Boulevard, where my hotel was, and I didn’t understand anything. But immediately it was the connection with the orchestra.”

Frank Gehry designed the sets for a Jan. 18, 2024, performance of Wagner’s opera, “Das Rheingold,” with Gustavo Dudamel leading the Los Angeles Philharmonic at Walt Disney Concert Hall.

(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)

Flash forward 20 years from 2005 to 2025. In what seemed like a truly crazy idea, he brought the L.A. Phil to the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, where he led a varied set of classical favorites and appearances with pop stars, for 150,000 people shouting “L.A. Phil! L.A Phil.” Among the highlights was “Ride of the Valkyries,” the English title of “Walküre.”

The symbolism of doing “Walküre” is, for Dudamel, unmistakable. Wagner’s four-part “Ring” cycle, of which “Die Walküre” is the second opera, strongly influenced the “Star Wars” films Dudamel grew up with. The saga’s composer John Williams is another L.A. legend who became for Dudamel like family. Williams has, in fact, written a fanfare, “Bravo Gustavo!” that Dudamel will premiere on June 4 in a concert in which he celebrates the musicians of the L.A. Phil.

The “Walküre” production, moreover, further expresses his desire to remain connected with L.A. When asked whether he still plans to complete the “Ring” cycle with the L.A. Phil, which he began two seasons ago with “Das Rheingold,” he says, “completely.”

It’s a radical notion, to say nothing of an extraordinarily expensive and time-consuming challenge for any orchestra given to a former music director, but Dudamel has never been one to take no for an answer. “At my last conversation with Frank,” he recalls, “I said I was coming to talk about ‘Siegfried’ [the next opera in the cycle], and he said, ‘You are crazy.’”

“That was Frank. He freaked out about the operas every time I talked to him about them. And then he came up with fabulous ideas.

“You know I never dreamed about coming to the L.A. Phil. I was happy in Venezuela and guest conducting elsewhere. But when I met Frank and John [Williams], I knew I had come to the right place.”

One reason Dudamel was happy in Venezuela was his position as music director of the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra, part of El Sistema, the country’s famed music education program. He brought a version of that to Los Angeles with YOLA, which offers free musical education to students. Bringing young people together to learn — and not just to play music but to listen to each other — has grown increasingly essential to him.

Gustavo Dudamel has fun with John Williams at the Hollywood Bowl as he conducts the L.A. Phil during “Maestro of the Movies: John Williams with the LA Phil” on July 9, 2023.

(Emil Ravelo / For The Times)

On Thursday evening, USC awarded Dudamel an honorary doctorate during its graduation ceremonies at the Coliseum, where Dudamel also gave the commencement speech.

“I will never tire of repeating this: music, art and beauty are universal rights,” he told the graduates, urging them to go out into the world listening to others, seeing others, paying attention to everything. These are the practices he has long championed as the essential need for youth orchestras.

This was, in fact, almost precisely what he said when he first arrived in L.A. “I was very young, but I grew up with these ideas,” he told me.

“You have to say to the students, ‘Stop! Let’s pause. Just listen.’”

“It’s a way to really connect with what surrounds you, but also connect with yourself. That’s the beauty of all the layers of listening we do as musicians. I now think that is our main tool. In the end it’s not listening only to sounds. It’s listening as connecting with others.”

Practicing what he preaches

As Dudamel plans for his next chapter, he indicates that the advice he gives students is what he is also saying to himself.

YOLA students perform on stage during a “Gracias Gustavo Community Block Party” at the Judith and Thomas L. Beckmen YOLA Center in Inglewood on Oct. 11, 2025.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

What L.A. gave him, he concludes, is a greater depth of his own listening. There was the guidance of Deborah Borda, who, as the orchestra’s president and CEO, hired and mentored him. There were the opera productions with Peter Sellars, who made him look deeply inside himself. There were the communities to discover and with which to collaborate.

New York, he insists, will be a further continuation of this process. “There are a lot of things to do. As I did here, that will be not only conducting but spending a big amount of time doing other things. I will have to listen to the community. Every place is different.”

And every place needs to be, for Dudamel, connected. He began his last season in Disney in the fall with the world premiere of Ellen Reid’s “Earth Between Oceans,” a bicoastal co-commission between the L.A. Phil and the New York Philharmonic, sonically evoking the environmental difference between L.A. and New York. He recently repeated it with his new orchestra in David Geffen Hall in New York.

In L.A., Reid’s score felt like a vast, moving, spiritual soundscape of our fires’ fury as well as our coastal fancy. At Geffen, it became a gripping showpiece, like attempting to zoom in a Ferrari through Manhattan streets, were they ever empty — the thrill of taking it all in.

Dudamel says his favorite place in New York so far is the orchestra’s archives. Becoming absorbed in the history of America’s oldest orchestra gives him new ideas. He wants simultaneously the old, the new and the many.

He also insists on ever more connections. ”We are making, many, many projects together,” he says of the L.A. Phil and the New York Philharmonic. That includes bringing the two orchestras together in a further experiment in listening.

“That‘s very important to me, one of my dreams. And it’s not difficult,” he says. “We have plans and it’s beautiful. We have to do that.”

Michael Tilson Thomas came onto the scene as a great hope for classical music, American music, Los Angeles music, modern music, multifaceted pop music, maverick music, Russian music, Broadway music and just plain music, whatever it might be and from wherever it might be found. He lived his 81 years as conductor, pianist, composer, educator and media personality promoting that hope, and died Wednesday having shown how hope is done. He looked ahead. He looked back. Yet he lived for the now.

It wasn’t always easy. He wasn’t, to say the least, always easy. But MTT made music matter by making hope matter. He was, moreover, one of us. He achieved greatness though an epic amplification of a uniquely L.A. positivity in which grumpy became wistful.

I first encountered MTT as a kid clarinetist and he, Michael Thomas back then, a student conductor at USC and already, at 19, music director of the Young Musicians Foundation Debut Orchestra. He was soon everywhere. A piano prodigy, he regularly performed (and hobnobbed) with the likes of Stravinsky, Copland, Boulez and Cage at Monday Evening Concerts programs when the Los Angeles County Museum of Art opened in 1965. That summer, he appeared at the Ojai Music Festival, which he would go on to lead as music director seven times.

MTT liked to describe his L.A. youth as driving from Jascha Heifetz’s house in the Hollywood Hills (where he accompanied the famed Russian violinist in classes) to LACMA to rehearse Ives and Renaissance music, to composition and conducting classes at USC. Then it was home to the San Fernando Valley to practice Beethoven.

All the while, he listened to the hip L.A. 1960s pop music stations on his car radio. He was particularly keen on, and became friends with, Chuck Berry. Home was where he would also encounter screen legends. Tilson Thomas’ father worked in films and television as a screenwriter, producer and dialogue coach. Theodor Thomas was, as well, a painter with a visionary sensibility and a pianist, self-taught other than a handful of lessons from Gershwin.

But it was Tilson Thomas’ mother and grandmother who may have had the biggest influence. His mother was a public school teacher. She instilled what became a key trait in her only child, who treated conducting as an exercise in learning both for the musicians and the audience (if not for him, because he basically knew it all). His grandmother, Bessie Thomashefsky and her husband, Boris, were stars of Yiddish theater on New York’s Lower East Side.

Boris died in 1939, five years before MTT was born. But Bessie and young Michael were close. She recognized that, like her, he was born for the stage, and regaled him with stage lore that put the stardust in his eyes. As a young kid, MTT played Beethoven piano sonatas so impressively that he wowed his babysitter, an architecture student at USC named Frank Owen Goldberg, who needed extra cash.

Frank Gehry, as he became, told me that MTT was already an entrancing showman. The two remained lifelong friends.

While MTT did not actually reside in L.A. for most of his life, he never really left it. It prepared him for all that was to follow. In high school, he met Joshua Robison, who became his lifelong partner and ultimately husband. Whether in New York, Miami, London or San Francisco, wherever they lived, they always talked about L.A. His father’s paintings were on the walls, as were Boris’ Yiddish theater posters, one proclaiming “King Lear,” translated and improved.

The Tilson Thomas package that emerged from L.A. was unlike any conductor the world had seen. He doted on the music of Rachmaninoff when Rachmaninoff was unfashionable and on Steve Reich when Reich was found unfathomable. He adopted classical music’s neglected outsiders and especially such key West Coast “mavericks” as Lou Harrison and Henry Cowell. He convinced Meredith Monk to write for orchestra and enticed everyone from Sarah Vaughan to the Mahavishnu Orchestra onto the symphony stage.

Studying at Tanglewood, the Boston Symphony’s summer home, MTT won the Koussevitzky Prize in 1969 and, with the encouragement of Leonard Bernstein, was appointed assistant conductor to music director William Steinberg. Before long, MTT became principal guest conductor, filling in frequently for Steinberg, who was in poor health.

MTT in his early 20s was vibrant, arrogant, fearless, full of ideas, a chance taker. Ever the Angeleno, he tooled around town in a Porsche. He talked to staid symphony musicians and audiences who didn’t want to be talked to and often played music they didn’t want to play or hear. And he dazzled them. He got a contract with the distinguished German record label Deutsche Grammophon and made exciting records with the orchestra of Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Ives and modern Americans. They remain a thrill to hear.

By 1974, it was Tchaikovsky one moment and a wonderfully crazy avant-garde opera the next. Stanley Silverman’s “Elephant Steps,” which MTT recorded in 1974, was for pop singers, opera singers, orchestra, rock band, electronic tape, raga group, gypsy ensemble and, of course, elephants. Richard Foreman wrote the libretto. There had been nothing like it then or since. A revival could prove a sensation. The Olympic arts festival, anyone?

At the same time, Tilson Thomas, who proved a born educator, succeeded Bernstein in delivering the New York Philharmonic’s Young People’s Concerts. When Steinberg left, the Boston Symphony Orchestra passed over MTT as too young (24) and not ready (he wasn’t, nor was Boston). He was just right, though, for the Buffalo Philharmonic, which he led from 1971 to 1979. It was a wild ride, with lots of exciting new music and no small amount of controversy — arresting performances of arresting new works (Morton Feldman in particular) and an actual arrest at Kennedy International Airport when small quantities of cocaine, marijuana and amphetamines were found in his luggage.

He may have seemed ready for a homecoming in 1981, but MTT’s appointment as principal guest conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic did not prove to be the return of the prodigal son. These were the years of Carlo Maria Giulini’s music directorship, and MTT brought currency — new music, Gershwin, flashy showstoppers. Much of it was a breath of freshest air, but he was also remembered for his brash youth, which was now a brash 30s. He ran afoul of some in the orchestra and of its imperious head, Ernest Fleischmann.

Having been branded the next Bernstein, MTT floundered. What he needed was not L.A., but a far distant remove to find himself. That happened in two parts.

In 1987, the educator in him led to his greatest project, the creation of the New World Symphony in Miami Beach, Florida. The training orchestra guides young musicians with conservatory backgrounds into the world of professional orchestras.

Around the same time, Bernstein talked the London Symphony Orchestra into hiring Tilson Thomas as music director. Far from L.A., Boston and New York, a newly mature MTT found his bearings, no longer the next Leonard Bernstein but the first and only Michael Tilson Thomas.

Miami gave MTT meaning, and he commissioned Frank Gehry to design a revolutionary concert hall and teaching facility. In London, his conducting took on depth without losing its surface glamour. What MTT still lacked, however, was a creative outlook. He had always thought himself a composer and could, at a party, make up a clever song at the piano on the spot. He had drawers full of sketches but little finished work.

It took a return to the West Coast for MTT, having turned 50, to put all of his musical, emotional, personal and spiritual parts together and achieve greatness. For 25 years as music director of the San Francisco Symphony, MTT conducted Mahler and Tchaikovsky with a depth of soul that integrated his Russian roots and Bernsteinian character. He advocated for mavericks in summer festivals. He found his voice as a composer. He and Robison were embraced as a beloved San Francisco couple. He alchemized the San Francisco Symphony into a Bay Area beacon.

In the challenging last chapter of his life, MTT turned tragedy into triumph to became a universal inspiration. The lockdown in June 2020 meant cancellation of his farewell concerts as music director, including a production of Wagner’s “The Flying Dutchman” with a set by Gehry. The following summer, MTT fell on stage while conducting the London Symphony in Santa Barbara. He was diagnosed with late-stage glioblastoma. He likely had less than a year to live.

Remarkably, MTT continued to conduct until last April. His appearances with the L.A. Phil and the San Francisco Symphony were transformative. He guest conducted in New York, London, Prague and elsewhere. In L.A., a dying MTT led a profound performance of Mahler’s death-obsessed Ninth Symphony, not as a farewell but as a shamanistic savoring of every moment of life. He asked not for sympathy but for joy.

For MTT, the music never stopped. In his later years, he advanced the theory that what you took away from hearing a performance mattered as much, if not more, than what you experienced. That may explain why this creature of the theater who was so graceful leading an orchestra and so enjoyed talking to the audience turned stiff and awkward when bowing to acknowledged applause. Was it his reluctance to leave? Insecurity? Attempt to remove his ego from the experience, as if he was now handing the music over to you?

It was probably all of those things. During his illness, when his movement became more difficult, he let go. He was simply happy to be there, happy to share music, happy to be alive, very happy to be loved. His final bows were a celebration of life.

Sadly, Robison died Feb. 22, exactly two months before MTT, who died four days short of a year since his final concert with the San Francisco Symphony. But he lives on through about 150 recordings and his website.

He and Robison worked as tirelessly throughout his illness to archive his life. His website provides a treasure trove of compelling radio and television programs, his copious Thomashefsky Yiddish theater archive, a vast legacy of searching and believing. And hope.