FEBRUARY 28, 2025 – The highlight of my day compensated—somewhat—for one of the lowest points in American history: the President and the Vice President of the United States berating and bullying in public, the visiting president of the country said American leaders have sold down the river to our adversary. Most of my readers are as scandalized as I am by this shocking behavior, so I shan’t dwell on it now; better for my emotional equilibrium to focus on that highlight.
On Wednesday I flew out here to New York. The main draw of this trip was to hear the Vienna Philharmonic under the direction of 83-year-old Riccardo Muti perform Anton Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony in one of the great concert venues of the world—Carnegie Hall. That concert was this evening, and it was without a doubt one of the premiere musical experiences of my life.
As I described in several posts a while ago, last year I became quite enamored of Bruckner’s symphonies, particularly the Seventh. After listening to it umpteen times, I’d searched the web to see if it was programmed anywhere in the United States for the 2024-25 season. If a performance was scheduled somewhere, I was willing to travel to hear it. As luck would have it, the bell rang in New York, where conveniently, one of my sisters and her husband reside. Jenny too is a big fan of Bruckner—her husband is not—and in fact, she’d played the Seventh with the now defunct National Orchestra and did so in Carnegie Hall. Her husband would be out of town on tour this evening, and besides, as he informed me not very long ago, he doesn’t care for Bruckner’s music. His loss, but I don’t hold that against him.
The Bruckner was preceded by Schubert’s Tragic Symphony (No. 4). This work is no walk in the park for the musicians, and it served as an excellent warm-up piece. Out of the chute, Muti and the Phil established their mastery of the Carnegie stage. Their sound, ensemble, tempi, technical precision, and musical display would have greatly pleased the composer. I was reminded that there is simply no substitute for a live performance in a supreme venue. As I listened I knew I could expect great things with the Bruckner.
At intermission, we greeted the violinist of worldwide acclaim, Pinky Zukerman, who just happened to be sitting in the box adjoining ours. When we bumped into him and his three or four friends as they emerged from their box, Jenny greeted him and connected us to our sister Elsa, whom Pinky had recruited to the SPCO back when he was the musical director there some eons ago. He acknowledged us, but little beyond that. We weren’t about to co-opt his groupies, and besides, Jenny wanted to show me some of the fascinating displays and spaces outside the main auditorium. I was reminded of Carnegie Hall’s great fame over the generations. Jenny couldn’t believe I’d never been inside Carnegie. I couldn’t believe it either. (She’s performed there several times and attended countless concerts in the hallowed hall.)
The opening statement of the Bruckner carried me straight away to celestial reaches. For the next 65 minutes I remained high above the woes and worries of the world. Muti had worked miracles with this grand symphonic work, achieving the finest sound I’ve heard among the multiple interpretations I’ve found and listened to repeatedly online. The scoring included 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 4 Wagner tubas, 4 trumpets, 4 trombones, a tuba, timpani, percussion, and full complement of strings. Bruckner gave winds and brass abundant opportunities to soar . . . or crash . . . and in every way from start to finish, they excelled in solo capacities as well as in ensemble. They were nothing short of stunning.
The strings, meanwhile, who hardly have six bars of rest through the entire piece, were a precision team, yet they projected a sound that was so deep, rich, and full, I could feel it as much as I could hear it.
My familiarity with the symphony enhanced my enjoyment of this extraordinary performance of it. I estimate that I’ve listened to it close to a hundred times since last summer, and thus, with every passage I knew exactly where I was and where the music was headed. It’s some of the most majestic music every written, and throughout the performance, the music seemed to allude to the grandeur of nature on an enormous scale—sky, ocean, ocean depths, mountain peaks, panoramic views from the mountain peaks, horizonless landscapes spreading toward all points of the compass.
I don’t know if, as at home, every audience at Carnegie Hall gives every performance a standing ovation. But on the occasion of this evening’s concert, the long standing ovation and boisterous bravos by the full-house crowd were fully merited. As the fans went wild over the performance by a European orchestra, I felt somewhat redeemed from the condemnable behavior displayed early in the day by our official leadership. At least by our enthusiastic applause, we could impress upon the Europeans the idea that not all of us Americans are as crass and deplorable as those who now control our government.
On our way home, as we exited the subway, I noticed the couple ahead of us. They’d been aboard our subway car on the way to Columbus Circle. As they climbed the stairs, I noticed they each had a handbill from the concert we’d just attended. Once we were above ground and away from the deafening clatter of the subway, I approached the couple and said, “That was quite a concert, wasn’t it?”
This ice-breaker sparked a conversation that carried us for a couple of blocks to Jenny’s apartment building. The amiable couple had two more buildings to go, so they stopped in front of Jenny’s to continue our chat. They had been every bit as impressed by the Bruckner as we had been and were great fans of classical music generally. We exchanged contact information so we can continue the conversation.
As bad as some things and some people are in our country right now, there are also many good things and many good people to celebrate.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
