KLAUS MÄKELÄ – A PORTRAIT

Text: Helmut Mauró, December 2024

It is rare, but not entirely unheard of, for a very young conductor to rise to world fame overnight. But to have a situation where all orchestras want him, and where they are offering him positions that seasoned colleagues have long hankered after. They is a tiny handful of past examples. Like Willem Mengelberg who took over the Concertgebouworkest in Amsterdam in 1895 at the age of 24. Similarly, Leonard Bernstein rose to prominence in 1943 at the age of 25 after standing in at short notice for the renowned Bruno Walter at Carnegie Hall in New York. The concert was broadcast on the radio and, by the next day, Bernstein was the name on everyone’s lips.

Today, it is the Finnish conductor Klaus Mäkelä who stands out as a remarkable talent. He became Chief Conductor of the Oslo Philharmonic in 2020 at just 24 years old and was appointed Music Director of the Orchestre de Paris the following year. In 2027, he will take on the role of Chief Conductor for both the Concertgebouw and the Chicago Symphony. As a guest conductor, he collaborates with some of the world’s most prestigious orchestras, including the London Philharmonic, Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, the Munich Philharmonic, and the Vienna Philharmonic.

A conducting career in today’s world has changed enormously in many respects. While radio still exists, it no longer plays a decisive role in shaping careers. The media landscape has grown both more diverse and more insatiable for new things, making it possible for anyone to achieve fame – even if only for a moment. Andy Warhol predicted it, and it has become an everyday reality. However, this comes with a downside: even artists who deserve lasting recognition can quickly fade from public attention amidst the constant influx of new stories.

This isn’t the case for Klaus Mäkelä though. At just 22 years old – an even younger age than Leonard Bernstein – he launched a world-class career, earning standing ovations at Carnegie Hall. How is this possible? What sets these exceptionally talented young conductors apart from other gifted peers?

First of all, Mäkelä sees his art – just like classical music in general – as a counterpoint to the short-lived flood of news  and the increasingly fragmented, fast-paced communication of modern life. Where online updates cater to the moment, music offers information that endures for eternity. For Mäkelä, the greatest revolution today lies in the act of dedicating an hour to listen to a symphony. Take, for example, Symphony No. 1 composed by Finland’s national composer, Sean Sibelius. In 2021, Mäkelä recorded all seven of Sibelius’s symphonies with the Oslo Philharmonic. They emerge sounding remarkably fresh, immediate, and full of vitality, as if being performed for the very first time, with the musicians radiating sheer youthful energy and heartfelt enthusiasm. Mäkelä comes across less as a driving force and more as if he has to rein the musicians in gently, making sure their passion doesn’t burn too brightly in the opening bars alone.

But what breathtaking landscapes unfold there! Of course, they are Finnish landscapes. This vast country, home to fewer than six million people and almost as many saunas. What makes Sibelius so quintessentially Finnish?

The musician Mäkelä also reflects on such questions, and he likes to think a little outside the box: perhaps the question should be flipped. Mäkelä has insightfully noted that Sibelius’s profound Finnish identity stems from his significant influence on shaping the country’s cultural heritage. For Mäkelä, however, what stands out beyond the imagery of nature and tangible references is the emotional intensity with which Sibelius composes. He masterfully merges emotion with intellectual clarity, creating a unique blend of vibrant vitality and serene stillness. This, Mäkelä suggests, might be what makes Sibelius so special and so Finnish. Yet, as Mäkelä once pointed out in an interview, Sibelius also saw himself as a European composer of course. He also studied in Berlin and Vienna, engaged with the works and ideas of his contemporaries, and aligned himself with figures like Bruckner and Strauss.

By this point, one can’t help but draw comparisons. How do the strings breathe in Sibelius? How do they breathe in Strauss? How does the brass roar in Bruckner, and how does it resonate in Sibelius? Mäkelä’s repertoire has grown enormously and is rich in contrast. Beyond the Sibelius symphonies, he has also tackled monumental works by Claude Debussy, Igor Stravinsky, and Dmitri Shostakovich, both in live performances and on recordings. But the wind section of the Oslo Philharmonic sounds exceptionally refined in Sibelius – an elegance that is surprising for an orchestra that, while undoubtedly first-rate, does not quite belong to the global elite.

Mäkelä borrowed this wind sound from the Orchestre de Paris, once admitting with admiration that he had never encountered such an elegant yet deeply expressive sound in his life. He describes how a piece becomes almost addictive, as he continually discovers new elements within it. While nearly every musician might say the same, with Mäkelä, you get the distinct sense that he isn’t just striving to approach it differently next time, but to elevate it – to make it undeniably better. He aims to listen even more intently, uncover additional details, and reveal nuances that make the whole feel even more expansive.

As a conductor, you always find yourself having to navigate a delicate balancing act. On one hand, you must nurture and highlight the unique sound and character of the orchestra; on the other, you must bring out the distinct qualities of the works being performed. Achieving this requires a combination of skill, knowledge, and experience – qualities that are rarely fully developed in our twenties. However, the Finnish Sibelius Academy seems to excel in equipping its students with these abilities or enabling them to gain such experience. This institution has produced a now considerable number of renowned conductors who also now teach there, including Jorma Panula, Sakari Oramo, Jukka-Pekka Saraste, and Esa-Pekka Salonen.

Students in this program not only learn to read musical scores and develop essential skills for the profession but also have constant access to an orchestra to practice with. While it’s not a large ensemble, it provides invaluable experience. Every rehearsal is recorded on video, and the self-criticism that follows is always the toughest part – far more impactful than any teacher’s criticism. »Trust the musicians,« Mäkelä recalls as the most important advice from his teacher. Thanks to the video recordings of every conducting session, he was able to assess how well he adhered to this principle, along with another crucial tip: »Support them, but don’t disturb them.«

But the most important thing is to actually rehearse with musicians. This opportunity isn’t always available to conducting students, even though it’s essential. The sooner you learn to collaborate with musicians on music, the less likely you are to develop abstract plans that the performers may struggle to understand. Mäkelä has applied a lot from this time to his current work. He offers direction, inspires, surprises, and doesn’t let the musicians out of his sights for a second. His connection with them is remarkable – he seems like one of their own. And, in a way, he is. After all, he not only studied conducting, but also the cello – a skill he occasionally showcases in brief encores. His family background also provided excellent foundations for his career. His father is a cellist, his mother a pianist and his grandfather was a violinist. He also had the opportunity to study at the Sibelius Academy at a young age, initially as a cellist.

These are far from the worst qualifications for a conductor: your own playing above all, a strong personal connection to music, the ability to internalize a composition into your own thoughts and feelings, and the skill to transform it into something new before presenting it to the world. Playing an instrument yourself increases the likelihood of delving deeper, beyond the surface brilliance or technical mastery. It requires courage to face challenges – both technical and mental – and to learn to think a little differently each time. Even when practicing alone in a small room, there is always an exchange: with the composer whose work you aim to understand and with the audience you hope to reach. This process is more intricate and inherently social compared to pure composition.

This is also conveyed rather subliminally to the audience, as was evident during Mäkelä’s debut concert at the Salzburg Festival in the summer of 2024. From the opening bars of Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto – a seemingly simple string melody – it made you sit up and take notice. Every note was meticulously shaped with precision. Mäkelä’s conducting is deliberate, never overly forceful; he gently drives the music forward, then pulls back, maintaining control. He resists being swept away by the music’s momentum or allowing the musicians to lose themselves in Tchaikovsky’s intoxicating soundscapes. Always a moment or two ahead, Mäkelä ensures every detail matters and contributes to the greater whole, engaging every instrument. His approach is unmistakably clear: to allow the emotion to emerge naturally from the music itself, free from excessive sentimentality. His focus lies entirely on the music’s core essence, from which everything else unfolds in any case.

One thing is certain, and Mäkelä understands this on a fundamental level: the key to achieving the best results isn’t through talking to the orchestra, explaining, or even forcing. It is simply the personality of the conductor that makes the difference – their sheer presence in front of the orchestra, shaped by everything the musicians know, assume, or instinctively feel about them.

And that’s exactly how they come across to the audience. But with one essential distinction: in the best performances, the conductor’s personality begins to recede, allowing the music to take centre stage. The podium’s star subtly dissolves into a pure narrative of sound. It is only then that the music reaches greatness, and the conductor truly becomes a great musician. Perhaps this explains why younger musicians often come across as more compelling – not just for their youthful energy but for their humility and modesty, in contrast to some all-knowing grandmasters. The real challenge is maintaining this state of humility. So far, Mäkelä seems to have preserved it remarkably well.

This article appeared in the Elbphilharmonie magazine (Issue 1/25).