Some musicians leave an impression that reaches further than their performances. Herbert Blomstedt was one of them. The Swedish conductor, born on 11 July 1927 in Springfield, Massachusetts, passed away today at the age of 99. For more than seven decades he contributed to the international musical life. Yet a career filled with concerts, recordings and honours hardly suffices to describe what he meant to music.
Anyone who saw him at work remembers his presence: a tall, slender man, without any show. He did not need grand gestures to convince an orchestra. His authority came from knowledge, experience and insight. Behind his seemingly simple movements was a conductor who knew down to the smallest detail what he wanted, yet at the same time gave the musicians room to add colour and meaning to their playing.
After several concerts I had the opportunity to speak with him briefly, in Amsterdam, Brussels, Hamburg, Paris and Vienna, among other places. What always stayed with me was his sincere interest and the matter-of-fact way in which he talked about music. He liked to tell about the works he had conducted, about his approach to a score and about what continued to fascinate him in it. Despite his international fame, he took the time for a conversation and did so with a disarming simplicity. I recognised that same openness whenever I saw him standing before an orchestra.
A musical journey
Blomstedt was born to Swedish parents who returned to Sweden in 1929. He grew up in Sweden and Finland and studied, among other places, in Stockholm, Uppsala, New York and Basel. In 1954 he made his debut with the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra. Important appointments followed with the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra, the Danish National Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra.
For German musical life, his period with the Staatskapelle Dresden was of great importance. From 1975 to 1985 he headed this historic orchestra. In those years his affinity with the German and Austrian repertoire fully blossomed. The recordings from that period still bear witness to his ability to combine the rich sound culture of the orchestra with a clear, transparent interpretation.
From 1985 to 1995 he led the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. This was followed by the NDR Symphony Orchestra in Hamburg, where he was principal conductor from 1996 to 1998. In 1998 he moved to Leipzig as Gewandhauskapellmeister. Until 2005 he led the Gewandhausorchester there. The bond remained close even after his departure: he was appointed honorary conductor and remained a welcome guest until a very advanced age.
The score as starting point
Blomstedt's interpretations combined analytical precision with human warmth. He took the score seriously without turning it into an academic exercise. He had an eye for the great architecture of a work, but never lost sight of the individual voices and details. As a result his performances rarely sounded forced; everything seemed to arise from the music itself.
This applied to Beethoven, Brahms and Bruckner, but also to the Scandinavian symphonists Sibelius and Nielsen, for whom he had a special affinity. He approached their sound world without reducing it to a mood picture of the northern landscape.
In Bruckner his sense of proportion was particularly impressive. The monumental structure was given all the space it needed, but never became an end in itself. He understood that behind the imposing masses of sound lies a great vulnerability. His Bruckner combined structural coherence with a deep, almost spiritual intensity.
That I was able to see him at work so recently makes his death all the more poignant. On 16 April he conducted Bruckner's Fourth Symphony with the Gewandhausorchester in Leipzig, a concert I reviewed for Klassiek Centraal. He was 98 at the time. The image of the slender, almost fragile man who sat down in the hall before the concert has stayed with me. In front of him lay a new edition of the score. But as soon as the music carried him away, his expression changed too: concentrated, alert and fully absorbed in what unfolded before him. The performance breathed a beneficial calm and depth. It moved me that at that age he was still so intensely engaged with the music. It was as if he discovered something new in it each time. Less than a month later he would give his last concert.
A conductor who kept searching
What perhaps made Blomstedt most remarkable was his capacity to keep wondering. At an age when most conductors had long since stopped, he still stood before orchestras. Not to confirm his reputation, but because he himself still discovered so much in the music.
His faith as a Seventh-day Adventist and his deep modesty played a part in this. For him conducting was a form of service: the composer and his music stood central, not the conductor. This was no pose, but a way of life that was palpable in his dealings with musicians and audiences.
His final appearance took place on 15 May in San Francisco, where he conducted Mahler's Ninth Symphony with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. Although the performance had to be briefly interrupted during the third movement, he brought the symphony to a conclusion. On medical advice he had to cancel the two following concerts. It became his farewell from the stage, after a life he had devoted to music with great dedication.
A lasting memory
His discography is extensive, and his years in Dresden, San Francisco and Leipzig have a firm place in music history. But his significance cannot be measured solely in recordings, honours or years.
What personally stays with me is how naturally his great musical personality goes hand in hand with human simplicity. He remained curious about the music and sincerely interested in the people with whom he could share it. I am grateful that I was able to see him at work so often and to speak with him briefly after concerts.
Thank you, Herbert Blomstedt, for the music and the encounters that will stay with me.