When I was a young conductor stricken with impostor syndrome, my greatest fear was conducting anything by Mozart. As a child, his music had been a lifesaver; he was my confidant, my best friend. And for many years I avoided conducting this most treasured music out of fear that I’d ruin it for myself, and him.
In my early 30s, I made my conducting debut at Carnegie Hall in New York with the Orchestra of St Luke’s and finally mustered the courage to take to the podium and conduct Mozart’s Symphony No 40. I was a mess; my hands were shaking, my heart smashing in my chest, and I worried my sweats of anxiety would leak through my jacket. But as the music swelled those 40 individuals came together in perfect synergy. Through the sublime drama of this symphony, they trusted and listened to each other. I took a breath and soaked this up. I realised that I didn’t have to conduct “the perfect” performance of Mozart because there is no such thing as a definitive performance. My performance would simply be unique to me, neither “better” nor “worse” than anyone else’s. This team of orchestral players worked together as the perfect team to create the ultimate display of individual – and collective – expression.
