Gathering Note - Notes from the concert hall

Remembering the legacy of Michael Tilson Thomas

The Chicago Symphony’s concerts this weekend are dedicated to Michael Tilson Thomas, who died on April 22nd at his home in San Francisco. He was 81. Like so many others, I became unmoored by the news. Not because I knew him personally, but because so many of the concerts I remember most vividly from the last 30 years were his.

Friday’s reminder came by way of Karina Canellakis, who led the CSO through Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.5. The performance kept pulling me back to a night in Seattle in 2009, when MTT was conducting the San Francisco Symphony on a West Coast tour. That Tchaikovsky was something. Rope-a-dope with the audience’s emotions. Canellakis, to her credit, played the same game.

What made Tilson Thomas rare was how exuded curiosity and love for his craft. He never seemed to be going through the motions. Through his illness, he continued to make music. That commitment was visible long before his diagnosis. When he took the podium, you felt it was safe to surrender to the music. The ride would be worth it. It was through MTT that I fell in love with Ives, gained a much deeper appreciation for Mahler’s symphonies, and embraced Cowell, Ruggles, and Scelsi.

What comes after

It’s a strange thing to survive a mass shooting and, years later, feel grateful for the knowledge it leaves behind. Grateful for understanding what comes after, and how that single event reshapes every life it touches. Kaija Saariaho’s Innocence is built entirely from that “after.”

I’ve just returned from seeing it in New York, and I can’t shake the feeling that Innocence is one of the great works of art of the 21st century so far. It may be the most honest work of art I’ve ever encountered about what gun violence actually does to people.

When opera goes to the afterlife and gets lost in virtual reality

Opera in the 21st century is caught between two impulses: the push to say something new, and the pull to rely on what already works. New operas get commissioned and staged. Old standbys get revived, reimagined, and sometimes over-explained. Neither approach is wrong, but both carry risk. This spring, two productions running concurrently at Lyric Opera illustrated that tension as cleanly as anything I’ve seen in years.

Gabriela Lena Frank’s El Último Sueño de Frida y Diego arrived with serious momentum, while Matthew Ozawa’s production of Madama Butterfly took one of the most-performed operas in the repertoire and tried to fix what’s broken about it. One succeeds where the other stumbles, and together they make a useful case study in what opera gets right and wrong when it reaches for something beyond the obvious.

Exceptional singing marked both productions. Madama Butterfly was carried by Karah Son’s Cio-Cio San, who more than lived up to the reputation she has built in the role, while Evan LeRoy Johnson soared as Pinkerton. In Frida y Diego, Daniela Mack and Alfredo Daza infused natural feeling into their respective roles as Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, which were otherwise thinly written.

The CSO gives Tüür’s accordion concerto a long-overdue US premiere

The Chicago Symphony is often described as a product of the great German and Viennese tradition. That reputation has been earned. But Thursday’s concert suggested the CSO’s story is more complex and interesting than that tight refrain.

The program opened with Brahms’s Variations on a Theme by Haydn and closed with Sibelius’s Second Symphony. Sandwiched between them was the U.S. premiere of Prophecy, Erkki-Sven Tüür’s accordion concerto, nearly two decades after the work was first performed in 2007. It should be noted that in 1904 under Theodore Thomas, the CSO also gave the U.S. premiere of Sibelius’s Second Symphony. The CSO has been doing this kind of work longer than people sometimes remember.

Tchaikovsky and Rota share the spotlight at Orchestra Hall

Some classical music works arrive on the concert stage like shy guests at a crowded party. They need a persuasive host to draw listeners in and reveal their charm, lest the room move on to flashier attractions. Not every work carries the inevitable triumph of a Beethoven symphony, for example. His ‘Eroica’ can survive a rough night and still leave an audience on its feet. But Tchaikovsky’s own third symphony, known as the ‘Polish,’ is not that kind of piece. It requires advocacy. On Thursday evening at Orchestra Hall, Riccardo Muti provided exactly that.

Hunger, guilt and violence drive a haunting Der Silbersee at Chicago Opera Theater

Kurt Weill and Georg Kaiser’s Der Silbersee (‘The Silverlake’) has never been an easy work to classify. Somewhere between play, opera, and political fable, this 1933 hybrid resists the tidy categories that make theatrical works digestible. Chicago Opera Theater’s recent production embraces this essential ambiguity and builds its strength from it. Billed as ‘A Winter’s Tale,’ the work unfolds in cold, clear light. What begins as biting social satire gradually thaws into something lyrical and unresolved. Weill’s score grows increasingly hauntingly melodic as the narrative spirals inward.

The history surrounding Silbersee matters. The premiere came less than three weeks after Hitler became chancellor on January 30, 1933. Germany’s political climate was already darkening. For both Weill and Kaiser, this would be their last production in the Weimar Republic before exile. Weill fled in March 1933 and eventually settled in the United States while Kaiser settled in Switzerland. It is a final artistic statement from two men standing at the edge of an abyss they could not fully see.

Klaus Mäkelä’s imminent arrival brings Sibelius, Lindberg and a thrilling Walton surprise to CSO’s 2026-2027 season

The Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s upcoming season has been announced, and there’s a lot I could say about it. Let’s start with the obvious: With the 2026-2027 season, we are one year closer to the official start of the Klaus Mäkelä era with the CSO. In many ways, it feels as though the young Finn is already ours. Over the last two seasons, he has spent an increasing number of weeks on the podium at Orchestra Hall. And even before this, Mäkelä seemed everywhere in the local imagination. He was simply all that anyone who follows the CSO could talk about.

With his arrival now imminent, I am struck by how undefinable his musical identity remains as a conductor. He is clearly a congenial partner for the orchestra. He favors the large orchestral staples that suit the Chicago sound.

Yet, there are hints of an interest that wanders beyond these well-worn tropes. Based on these hints, I even went so far as to bet my spouse that we would see Andrew Norman’s Play on the Chicago schedule for the upcoming season. Mäkelä has conducted it in Oslo, Amsterdam, and Berlin in recent years. It seemed logical he would bring the piece to Michigan Avenue.

Civic Orchestra of Chicago brings vitality to Price, Walker, Kay and Dvořák at Orchestra Hall

Amid a Chicago orchestral landscape dominated by marquee ensembles, the Civic Orchestra of Chicago tends to exist in the shadows. That’s unfortunate, because this century‑old training orchestra—founded in 1919 by Frederick Stock, then music director of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra—remains one of the city’s most earnest and quietly radical institutions. It’s made up of early‑career musicians, players straddling the line between their conservatory training and professional life. Many alums move on to orchestras across the country. Quite a few land seats in the CSO itself. Yet the Civic’s real gift to the city isn’t its alumni roster. It’s the opportunity audiences receive to enjoy adventurous music in Orchestra Hall at a steal: general admission tickets start at $5.

The Civic Orchestra has also become an artistically compelling proposition under the direction of principal conductor Ken-David Masur. Beyond the typical warhorses, Masur has steered toward Copland and Takemitsu, Lutosławski and Chávez. Its March 2 concert was no exception, pairing Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7 in D minor with works by three Black American composers — Ulysses Kay, George Walker and Florence Price. It was an evening built around two, persistent questions: Who gets remembered, and why?

Handel’s triumphal and somber sides shine at festival close

George Frederic Handel’s career was interwoven tightly with the British monarchy, a relationship that spanned the exuberant heights of national peace and the somber depths of royal loss. In an afternoon of starkly contrasting emotional colors, the final performance of the 2026 Handel Week Festival Orchestra and Chorus gathered musicians from across the Chicago area to bring this dual legacy to life.

On March 1, they offered a fitting finale to three weeks of programming that has animated Pilgrim Congregational Church in Oak Park. The event paired the brassy, triumphal optimism of the Utrecht Te Deum and Jubilate with the heartbroken beauty of the Funeral Anthem for Queen Caroline known informally as The Ways of Zion Do Mourn.

This is how festivals should end—with large, multifaceted works that allow for genuine artistic synthesis. For the most part, festival organizer Dennis Northway, his orchestra, and four soloists—Kimberly McCord (soprano), Michelle Wrighte (mezzo-soprano), Cameo Humes (tenor), and Noah Gartner (baritone)—delivered where it most mattered. The afternoon oscillated between triumphant and solemn registers; throughout, the chorus and quartet remained the focal point of Northway’s conception.

Marc-André Hamelin champions Ives’ sprawling Concord at Orchestra Hall

Canadian pianist and polymath Marc-André Hamelin has been one of a small handful of pianists pushing for a reconsideration of Charles Ives’ piano music, especially Sonata No. 2, better known as the Concord. Whether his advocacy earns the piece a coveted spot in the standard piano repertory remains to be seen. For now, though, Ives fans must grab their chances when they can to hear Hamelin play it.

One such opportunity arrived February 22, when Hamelin performed the Concord Sonata as part of Symphony Center Presents’ piano series. The Ives’ sat at the heart of the program he brought to Orchestra Hall. At nearly an hour, it swallowed the first half whole. The second half was more approachable: Robert Schumann’s Fantasiestücke (Fantasy Pieces) and Scriabin’s Sonata No. 4 in F-sharp major. The whole program gave Hamelin a stage to do what he does best — championing strange, difficult music with the kind of playing that makes you wonder why anyone ignores it.