In June 1969, the stunning news broke that the New York Philharmonic had appointed Pierre Boulez to succeed Leonard Bernstein as its music director. The decision understandably rattled the classical music establishment: Mr. Boulez was not just an uncompromising Modernist composer, but he had also first come to attention as a polemicist dismissive of those writing music beholden to tonal harmony.
In one fiery 1952 essay, Mr. Boulez, then in his late 20s, declared that any musician who had not felt “the necessity of the dodecaphonic language” — the rigorous 12-tone technique devised by Schoenberg a few decades before — “is of no use.” This was the conductor the Philharmonic had chosen to follow Bernstein? Charismatic Uncle Lenny, Mr. Let’s Find Out?
But Mr. Boulez, who died on Tuesday at 90 in Germany, had mellowed over the years, long before the Philharmonic tapped him. For sure, he arrived in New York determined to bring the orchestra belatedly into the 20th century. But the inventiveness and diversity of his programming proved a surprise. His death comes at a time when the Philharmonic is poised to reveal who will follow Alan Gilbert, like Mr. Boulez an inventive, varied programmer, as music director. Now, when the orchestra seems vague about its post-Gilbert artistic vision, it’s worth remembering the lessons of Mr. Boulez’s tenure.
Mr. Boulez championed modern music at the Philharmonic and showed that he was an unmatched conductor of knotty contemporary scores. But that first season he also focused on, of all composers, Liszt. And long before it became fashionable, he demonstrated how to juxtapose new and old music, sometimes very old: He conducted a raft of Baroque pieces. In one 1977 program from his final season as music director, he opened with Haydn’s “London” Symphony and then gave the New York premiere of the Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu’s “Arc” for piano and orchestra, with Peter Serkin as soloist. And — talk about a crowd pleaser — he ended with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.
He even proved deft at accommodating soloist superstars. In another 1977 program, the violinist Itzhak Perlman was featured in Mozart’s Violin Concerto in G and Ravel’s shamelessly showy “Tzigane.” The concert opened with Wagner’s “Siegfried Idyll” and ended with a pair of scorchers by Varèse: “Ionisation” and “Arcana.”
Mr. Boulez spoke often about finding ways to shake up concert protocols and try alternative approaches. His innovations at the Philharmonic included Rug Concerts, which had the orchestra performing on the floor of the auditorium (its seats removed), and the audience resting on cushions and carpets. The programs boldly mixed composers from different eras: Ligeti and Mahler, Bach and Varèse.
I have vivid memories of Mr. Boulez’s Prospective Encounters programs, including one in 1973 at the Juilliard Theater. It was devoted to Webern’s Five Movements for String Quartet (Op. 5), first played as a quartet, then in its version for string orchestra. In his French-accented English, Mr. Boulez explained the music without jargon, taking all questions graciously. One young man commented that Webern’s music didn’t seem to have “any beats.” Mr. Boulez seemed delighted to address this interesting, and essentially accurate, observation.
Still, though his days as a polemicist were past, Mr. Boulez conveyed a message through his programming and leadership: Complex modern music had come to stay; institutions and audiences were going to have to adjust. The Philharmonic had to remake itself as a vibrant institution that honored its heritage not by abandoning the past, but by integrating it into the present.
If Mr. Boulez did not accomplish all that he might have, it was less because of his vision than because of his lack of commitment. His time in New York overlapped with his tenure as chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra in England. He was too restless, finally, and too engaged as a composer, to devote himself entirely to remaking established institutions. As years passed, he felt more comfortable, and perhaps had more impact, through guest appearances and residencies.
During celebrations of Mr. Boulez’s 90th birthday last year, audiences had ample opportunities to hear his music. And as you listen to his ingeniously complex, rhythmically breathless and sensual scores, it’s hard to remember why they were once thought so intimidating.
Yes, the early works, steeped in 12-tone technique, are steely and radical, like the first two piano sonatas. But last March at Zankel Hall, the pianists Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Tamara Stefanovich gave exhilarating accounts of these pieces on a program presenting all of Boulez’s music for piano. The Sonata No. 1 came across as a work of jarring originality, especially in its rhythmic character, as the music unfolds with nonstop intensity through sweeping bursts and organic gestures. And the staggeringly difficult Sonata No. 2 seemed more than ever a young composer’s modernist retort to Beethoven’s mighty “Hammerklavier.”
In a 1999 interview, Mr. Boulez told me that his landmark work for alto and six instruments, “Le Marteau Sans Maître,” was his declaration of freedom from the “very narrow kind of serialism” that had become “very academic immediately.” For all its intricacy, the music abounds in texture and fantasy. And, in 1998, I found it unexpectedly moving to hear young players from the New Juilliard Ensemble in a commanding account of his 40-minute masterpiece “Sur Incises,” scored for three pianos, three harps and three percussionists. The sheer riot of energy and color was spectacular.
It was astonishing that the Philharmonic selected such a pioneer as its music director. And in 1969! Almost 50 years later, with another conductor choice on the horizon, it’s hard to imagine the orchestra doing something remotely as daring.
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