The music from the orchestra crashes and roars around you like an ocean. The energy from it all quickens your pulse and carries you with it. You’re helpless to resist it. You feel like something is pulling at your soul, as if you could levitate out of your seat. This awesome power seems to be controlled by a little man on stage with white hair and a baton. You’ve all seen this guy. He’s the one waving his arms and imploring the musicians on stage to pour out their souls but to the untrained eye, it looks like they’re ignoring him.
The fact is, these symphony level musicians aren’t going to make much music without a leader, and the Maestro is that leader. Sometimes he rules with benevolence and sometimes he rules with a clenched iron fist, but the one thing that is true of every conductor is that he makes his money in the rehearsal, not the performance.
By the time the performance rolls around, the musicians, as excellent as they may be, are not playing Bach or Mozart, they are playing the Maestro’s music. And every instrument on stage is being played by one man – the Maestro.












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