Music Teaches You How to Live
Pierachille Dolfini - At 84, the great Maestro remains deeply engaged with the young musicians of the Cherubini Orchestra and various conservatories. “For me, it is an essential civic commitment; I no longer conduct for fame. We have immense talent here, and we must invest in the new generation to get this country back on its feet.”
The Aula Magna of the Catholic University was transformed into a grand concert hall. It featured an orchestra named after Luigi Cherubini, composed of several dozen young musicians. On the podium stood the internationally renowned conductor, Riccardo Muti. But above all, the event was a lectio magistralis—a masterclass in words and music—that captivated the guests, faculty, staff, and students gathered for the opening ceremony of the new academic year at the Largo Gemelli campus, celebrated on Friday, November 28. It was an extraordinary ceremony, both in form and execution, destined to go down in the history of the Catholic University.
Muti has never liked standing alone on the podium. “You go up there to make music,” he insists. He never sought to teach from that authoritarian perch—the platform toward which the entire orchestra looks. “In the theater, the conductor has the best seat because the podium is right in the center, and from there he can see what is happening on stage better than anyone else,” he often recalls, quoting Arturo Toscanini.
While the music is made on the podium, Muti believes that to dialogue on equal terms and to truly “concert” a performance, one must be down among the music stands. Consequently, when he assumes the role of “maestro” in his Italian Opera Academy—a role defined not just by title but by life experience—he moves among the musicians. He sits next to the piano with young people aspiring to the “now practically obsolete job of the maestro collaboratore” (répétiteur), and he stands a step below the podium of the young conductors who flock from all over the world to learn the craft.
“I learned this from my teachers, and I try to pass the torch to new generations,” he explains. He suggests, corrects, stimulates, and encourages. This is the dialogue that Riccardo Muti never ceases to forge with the younger generation. It is a necessary alliance. “And I feel it,” says the conductor, “as a civic duty.”
Born in Naples in 1941, Muti is quick to clarify: “Only because my mother, a Neapolitan from Molfetta in Puglia, made the journey to give birth to us children in the Neapolitan capital.” He grew up in Puglia, where his “musical roots lie,” somewhere between Santa Allegrezza (the Christmas carol sung by mendicants as they knocked on doors) and a specific concert in the regional seminary. “I was eleven years old, I played the violin, and,” the conductor recalls, not without emotion, “in the photo that immortalizes that moment, you can also see a then-young seminarian, Don Tonino Bello.”
These are the musical and spiritual roots that Maestro Muti now wants to pass on—not only in his Italian Opera Academy but also through his frequent interactions with young graduates from Italy’s conservatories.
At my age, 84, it makes me deeply sad—and frankly, furious—to see how many young people graduate with top honors only to hang up their instruments because there are no jobs or professional outlets for them. In South Korea, in the city of Seoul alone—and I never tire of giving this example—there are twenty-two symphony orchestras. In Italy, we have witnessed the unconscionable closure of the Rai orchestras in Milan, Rome, and Naples. Many theaters remain shuttered. I believe it should be the state's duty to provide a place for these young people graduating from our conservatories.
As often happens, the private sector picks up the slack where the public sector fails. This seems to be the case with the Luigi Cherubini Youth Orchestra, which you brought to the Catholic University for the academic opening.
The Cherubini is celebrating its twentieth anniversary. Over the past two decades, hundreds of young people have passed through our music stands. Our program lasts three years, but then they have to spread their wings. Many musicians who played with me are now in major Italian and European ensembles. But there are many—too many—who have had to give up the profession entirely. That is a failure on Italy’s part.
What do you teach the young people at Cherubini, and the musicians you meet on your travels?
Don't get me wrong—I don't want to "teach" in the academic sense, but to hand down something that existed before me, something I received and want to preserve so it doesn't die out: the great tradition of Italian opera. I want to pass on what I learned from my teachers and from the orchestras I’ve worked with. You always learn from your musicians, especially if they are the Vienna or Berlin Philharmonic, the Chicago Symphony, or the great Italian orchestras. Antonino Votto, one of my teachers, was Toscanini's first assistant and played the cello (out of necessity, to earn a living) with Verdi on the podium. I am part of this chain that links directly back to Verdi. It must continue. That’s why I try to pass on the things you won’t find in textbooks.
You turned 84 in July. Given all the satisfaction and success in your career, what drives you to be so tireless in what often looks like tilting at windmills?
For me, it is an essential civic duty. At my age, I no longer conduct for applause or to chase success; I have the luxury of devoting myself to projects close to my heart. Working with the youth of the Cherubini, with conservatory students, and even with the Calabrian bands or the three thousand participants who crowded the Pala De André in Ravenna in June to sing Verdi choruses—Va' pensiero, O Signore dal tetto natio, and Patria oppressa—gives me energy. These works are part of our DNA.
Feeling deeply Italian, I believe in our country's resources, and I get angry when outsiders tell us which path to follow. We have immense talent at our disposal, and I believe young people are the resource we must invest in to get the country back on track. The discipline and enthusiasm I always encounter are clear proof of this.
So, does music possess significant social value?
Music helps build a path toward a different future; it educates us in beauty and harmony. Playing together is a fundamental school for learning the rules of civilized living. It has social and cultural value, absolutely. It is simply not true that young people are uninterested in music; they need to be guided in the right way—educated and led with a firm hand. It is not an easy road, of course, but it is one worth traveling. I mentioned the experience with the three thousand choristers in Ravenna, which we will repeat next year, always in the spirit of St. Augustine's motto: Cantare amantis est—singing belongs to those who love.
Speaking of the Saint of Hippo, on December 12, you will perform in the Vatican before the first Augustinian pope, Leo XIV.
I had hoped that sacred music would return to the Vatican, and my wish has come true. I will be very pleased to meet him. He is from Chicago, and having led the Chicago Symphony Orchestra for years as music director—and now as director emeritus for life—I feel a connection. With the Cherubini Orchestra and the choir of Siena Cathedral, we will be in the Paul VI Hall to perform Luigi Cherubini's Mass for the Coronation of Charles X.
We possess a massive heritage of sacred music, from Orlando di Lasso to Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, yet churches often favor a different genre today. The great history of music exists precisely because of what the Church did. I don't understand why we once played Mozart and Bach, but now have pop songs; it shows a lack of respect for people's intelligence. Even the simplest man, far from the faith, can be transported to a spiritual dimension when he hears Mozart's Ave verum. I have expressed my strong irritation about this several times to both Pope Francis and Pope Benedict XVI.
On December 12 in the Vatican, in conjunction with the concert for Pope Leo, you will be awarded the Ratzinger Prize.
The last time I conducted in the Paul VI Hall, Benedict XVI was there listening. I had the good fortune to know him personally. On May 8, 2012, for the seventh anniversary of his election, I conducted a concert there with the Opera di Roma; we performed Vivaldi's Magnificat and Verdi's Stabat Mater and Te Deum. At the end, Benedict XVI improvised a lectio magistralis on those two composers, demonstrating what it means to possess true musical culture and to believe in the power of music. That concert, along with those I conducted for John Paul II and Paul VI, remains indelibly etched in my memory.