Imagine an 89-year-old maestro, still wielding the baton like a seasoned warrior, bringing an epic symphony to life—defying age and time itself. This isn't just any performance; it's a testament to enduring passion in the world of classical music that leaves you wondering how long such magic can last.
Zubin Mehta, the beloved conductor emeritus of the Los Angeles Philharmonic and an undeniable legend in the City of Angels, made a triumphant return last weekend to lead his former ensemble through Anton Bruckner's Eighth Symphony at Walt Disney Concert Hall.
For those new to classical music, Bruckner's Eighth is no ordinary piece—it's a colossal work demanding a massive orchestra with a powerhouse brass section and listeners who can embrace its sprawling length with open hearts. In return, it delivers a thrilling rush of symphonic grandeur, like a musical rollercoaster that builds to breathtaking heights. Think of it as a marathon of sound: rising melodic lines that climb like mountain paths, enormous fanfares blaring from trumpets, horns, and even the Wagner tubas (a special type of brass instrument with a unique, haunting tone), and relentless patterns repeated by an unstoppable ensemble. These elements act as natural high-energy boosts, flooding your senses with what feels like auditory adrenaline.
Young conductors often fall head over heels for Bruckner's most intense, high-octane moments—bursting with raw power and drama. Mehta himself was captivated when he recorded the Eighth with the L.A. Phil back in 1974. But as conductors mature, they often shift toward finding serene bliss in Bruckner's expansive sonic landscapes and rich string harmonies. On Sunday afternoon, the 89-year-old Mehta embodied this meditative journey, guiding the orchestra through the symphony's vast emotional depths.
But here's where it gets controversial: Is Mehta's mature style a sign of wisdom, or has he lost some of that fiery edge that once made him a star?
Health challenges have limited Mehta's travels; he had to cancel a gig with the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood last summer, as well as upcoming appearances in Europe and Israel. Born in Bombay (now Mumbai), India, Mehta has been a steadfast Los Angeles resident since becoming the L.A. Phil's youngest music director at just 26—he held the role when Gustavo Dudamel took over at 28 in 2009.
Yet there he was on Sunday, as unyielding as ever, greeted by a roaring ovation as he stepped onstage. His previous appearance with the orchestra in December 2024 was equally impressive; he directed two programs, including Arnold Schoenberg's sprawling oratorio "Gurrelieder," showcasing remarkable stamina for someone in his late 80s and delivering a performance that left audiences in awe.
This time around, however, Mehta appeared more fragile. Seated on a stool and viewed from the rear in the hall's front-facing seats, his movements were subtle, almost invisible to most of the audience. Despite this, he conducted the entire 89-minute symphony entirely from memory—a feat that underscores his deep-rooted mastery.
A photo from Etienne Laurent captures Mehta leading the L.A. Phil in Bruckner's Eighth at Walt Disney Concert Hall.
The Eighth Symphony has long been Mehta's forte. Following his groundbreaking 1974 recording with the L.A. Phil in UCLA's Royce Hall, he created versions with the Israel Philharmonic, the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, and the Berlin Philharmonic over the past couple of decades. These later recordings trade youthful flash for seasoned depth, holding their own against interpretations by top European maestros.
Yet, the Decca label's capture of Mehta's work with the L.A. Phil oozes a vibrant, bold "New World" energy—think of it as Hollywood glamour meets classical music, with hints of the cinematic flair of composers like John Williams (known for blockbuster soundtracks) or even the minimalist repetitions of Philip Glass. I vividly recall Mehta conducting the Eighth in the acoustically tricky Dorothy Chandler Pavilion with the L.A. Phil, and later with the Vienna Philharmonic in the historic Musikverein. In Los Angeles, it pulsed with fresh, modern vitality; in Vienna, it felt steeped in tradition, though a couple beside me in the standing area grumbled about it seeming "artificial."
On Sunday, Mehta's resilience shone through, stirring and moving the crowd. What once appeared effortless for him still didn't seem overly taxing, thanks to his sharp memory and musical intuition. That said, connecting with the orchestra—fresh off an Asian tour—proved trickier. The performance lacked the crisp precision or brilliance seen in their Tokyo renditions of Stravinsky and Mahler, and it didn't quite capture the profound, visceral punch of that signature Mehta-L.A. Phil sound.
At points, the symphony felt sluggish, stretching to 10 minutes longer than his 1974 version, though his recordings have gradually slowed in recent years. Ninety-nine minutes might sound interminable, but duration isn't everything. For comparison, a dynamic new recording of a revised Bruckner edition by the German Philharmonie Festiva, led by Gerd Schaller, zips along at a brisk 69 minutes. On the flip side, the legendary Sergiu Celibidache's 99-minute take with the Munich Philharmonic transformed the piece into something infinitely expansive, like gazing into the cosmos itself—no other performance comes close.
Another image by Etienne Laurent shows Mehta directing the L.A. Phil in the symphony at Walt Disney Concert Hall.
In terms of pacing and interpretive style, Mehta navigated a balanced path. The L.A. Phil's DNA still carries Mehta's legacy: robust cellos and basses, pounding brass that quickens the pulse, and dazzling woodwind flourishes. He seemed to rely on this foundation. Yet his journey now feels like wandering through a Brucknerian forest—occasionally disoriented, rediscovering wonder. Or picture him immersed in a Bruckner ocean, waves crashing over him. In the extended slow movement, harps and violins climbed those melodic ladders, each note contributing to a sense of mystical joy.
For Mehta, climactic moments no longer aim to shock and awe but to invite deep breaths, letting Bruckner's essence permeate your very being. Once hailed (or criticized by some) as a flamboyant, surface-level conductor, he now empowers the music itself. And if travel eludes him, why not invite the world to Los Angeles and the L.A. Phil? After all, true vision, inspiration, and affection are nurtured best in the comfort of home, surrounded by those you love.
And this is the part most people miss: In an era of flashy, high-tech performances, Mehta's aged wisdom challenges us to rethink what 'great conducting' really means. Could his subtler approach actually reveal more depth than the bombast of younger maestros? Or is it a sign of inevitable decline?
What do you think? Does Mehta's evolution inspire you, or do you side with his critics who say he's lost his spark? Share your thoughts in the comments—does age enhance artistry, or does it diminish it? And how does this resonate with performances you've experienced?
