The New York Philharmonic on Saturday, December 1.
Gustavo Dudamel is younger than me. I couldn’t help but think that as I watched the twenty-six-year-old Venezuelan wunderkind lead the New York Philharmonic as guest conductor. I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that I’m not particularly ambitious, however much I might think I ought to be, so people like Dudamel fascinate me.
To succeed so spectacularly at such a young age, surely you must have always known what you wanted to do with your life and pursued it single-mindedly, never slowing, never veering off course, never even questioning your direction. Such a course seems terrifying to me, but if that is indeed how Dudamel has led his life, it obviously has worked for him. The skill, self-assurance, artistry, and joy with which he conducted the Philharmonic musicians, some of whom have been members of the orchestra for longer than he has been alive, were nothing short of dazzling. Expectations for the concert were astronomical (the media breathlessly reported that Dudamel had been lent one of the legendary Leonard Bernstein’s batons for the occasion), and he didn’t disappoint. Led by Dudamel, the Philharmonic delivered one of the best performances I’ve ever heard from that orchestra.
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