The sound was my greatest concern. There were certain difficulties getting used to the way every musician can hear his or herself, the way each of them relates to the musician in the next seat.
Every day we make more progress toward understanding the concert hall.
I always had, deep down, a slight aversion toward the purely cerebral in music.
I discovered that the people of the North are different and there's no way you can make a person from the North similar to a Southerner. They're two different worlds.
Music has just as much to do with movement and body as it does soul and intellect.
Los Angeles is just a more open place. The way L.A. functions is that people give you a forum. They say, Show us what you can do.
In the range of music that we play - roughly 300 years' worth-there really are more similarities than differences.
In Europe, there is so much tradition, and everyone has established ideas as to what art should be and what it has always been.
If the seams are showing, there is something wrong with the performance or the construction of the piece. This idea is completely at odds with our modern visual experience, because everything today is based on montage.
My music wouldn't sound the way it does if I hadn't had the experience of conducting.
The players never think they project enough. In a hall that seats 3,300 people, it's a very scary thing to play so quietly that you can barely hear yourself.
When we're at the end of The Rite of Spring or of a Bruckner symphony, I want people to feel the music physically.
This conducting thing happened. In 1983 I was sucked into this international career, which was a very scary experience.
With American orchestras, in particular, because they play in such huge halls, getting a true pianissimo is very hard.
There is more openness in LA to possibilities than on the East Coast of America. There is a pioneering spirit there that stems from the reason people went out there in the first place-to find something new.