Magician and tyrant

Sergiu Celibidache was a star at the conductor's podium - and far from uncontroversial. While his fans hailed him for new, transcendental interpretations of the canon, many critics shook their heads in bewilderment.

Celibidache's views on music often differed drastically from those of his colleagues. He categorically rejected record productions as a marketing tool, in sharp contrast to contemporary Herbert von Karajan, to name one example. Many concert recordings featuring Celibidache were produced only after his death.

Independent mind

Born July 11, 1912 in Roman, Romania as the son of a cavalry officer, Celibidache proved early on that he would choose his own destiny. His father refused to pay for his son to study in music in Bucharest, insisting instead on a career in politics. Celibidache broke all family ties and went to Berlin in 1936. There, he studied composition and conducting at a music academy while attending courses in music history and philosophy at university.

Alongside his formal studies, the young man was deeply engaged with Zen Buddhism. Another big influence during this phase: Wilhelm Furtwängler, head conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic. Furtwängler became Celibidache's most important teacher, though the renowned Berlin conductor never gave him any lessons.

I listen to Furtwängler creatively, Celibidache once said of his idol.

Nomadic years

Just after the end of World War II, Celibidache made his debut with the Berlin Philharmonic, having had no previous experience conducting an orchestra. He was immediately commissioned as provisional principal conductor. But in 1954, he broke ties with the orchestra when Herbert von Karajan was named Furtwängler's successor after the latter's death.

Angry and bitter, Celibidache retreated initially to Italy, then set off on a restless, nomadic phase that would lead him across Europe and into engagements with many of its leading orchestras. In these years, he solidified his reputation as a difficult and eccentric conductor.

Of his colleagues, Celibidache once said, "If you were to be generous, you could maybe count five conductors working today that actually concern themselves with an orchestra's sound. Ninety percent only pay attention to the basic outline and just whip through the pieces at a quick tempo."

Deliberate conducting

In 1979, the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra tapped Celibidache during its search for a new principal conductor, and the maestro said yes. In Munich, he showed once more his unusual abilities as an orchestra leader, quickly turning the philharmonic into a musical body of world renown.

Here, too, there were plenty of fall-outs with the critics, who often disapproved of his slow tempi.

"Most of these ignorant people think I take a gradual pace or a fast tempo because I just happen to want it that way," the conductor said. "The tempo is the condition that reduces and unifies the physical vastness that is otherwise present. That is the tempo!"



Appreciation for Bruckner

With the Munich Philharmonic, Sergiu Celibidache celebrated triumphs worldwide, and one composer appeared again and again in his programs: Anton Bruckner.

"Bruckner is still an unknown man. He is the greatest symphonic composer in music history, and the world simply doesn't understand that. The way he commands the orchestra: no one else can do that!" the conductor explained.

Celibidache passed on his insights into sound and speed in works by Bruckner and others in various mastercourses with young musicians. On June 4, 1996, the charismatic podium master said farewell to his public. Around two months later, he died of a heart attack.

For Sergiu Celibidache, the work of music and its living reinterpretation took center stage - not the conductor. He loathed hype and stardom. When asked about his prominent status in the classical world, he responded meekly, "A significant conductor is first and foremost a human being."

Author: Klaus Gehrke / gsw
Editor: Kate Bowen