Four Debuts, One Mission: Music That Heals
FROM ONE STAGE TO ANOTHER
There's a peculiar kind of gratitude that comes with standing in front of an orchestra for the first time. You're aware of the history in the hall, the players watching you, the audience trusting you to guide them through an experience they might never forget. This year, I've had the extraordinary privilege of doing that four times — with the Philadelphia Orchestra, Cincinnati Symphony, San Francisco Symphony, and now, later this month, the Hong Kong Philharmonic.
Each debut has been its own story. But what connects them all is something I think about constantly these days: music's ability to bring people together when so little else can. Whether I'm standing in front of an American orchestra or preparing to step onto the podium halfway around the world, that's what drives me. Music heals. Music connects. And right now, I think we all need that more than ever.
Hong Kong, Renée, and a Song Cycle for Our Time
On October 24th and 25th, I'll make my debut with the Hong Kong Philharmonic — a moment I've been looking forward to for a long time. And I get to share the stage with someone I'm lucky enough to call a close collaborator and friend: Renée Fleming.
We'll be performing Voice of Nature: The Anthropocene, the remarkable song cycle Renée created in partnership with National Geographic. I conducted the full orchestral world premiere of this work last year, and it's a piece I believe will resonate for generations. It's not just music — it's a meditation on what we're doing to our planet, woven through poetry and sound from multiple composers across centuries.
What moves me most about this work is how it holds space for both grief and hope. The music doesn't preach. It invites you to feel — to reckon with what's at stake, and to remember that beauty and fragility coexist. In Hong Kong, a city at the intersection of Eastern and Western musical traditions, that message feels especially potent.
I've spent much of my career championing new music and working closely with living composers. My friendship with Mason Bates goes back more than 30 years — I commissioned the very first orchestral works he ever wrote, and just last season I conducted the world premiere of his triple concerto Silicon Hymnal with the Grammy-winning ensemble Time for Three. That kind of collaboration — creating music that responds to now, to what we're living through — is exactly what Voice of Nature does. It's music as a living, breathing response to the world we're in.
I recently sat down with Interlude HK to talk about the piece, the role of music in addressing climate crisis, and why this kind of storytelling matters. (You can read the full conversation here.) One thing I said in that interview still sits with me: Music has a unique power to bring parties together when nothing else can. That's what I hope happens in these concerts — that for 90 minutes, we're all breathing the same air, literally and metaphorically, and we leave feeling a little more connected to each other and the world we share.
Memphis: A Decade of Music, Growth, and Gratitude
While I'm preparing for Hong Kong, I can't help but reflect on what's happening back home in Memphis. This fall marks my 10th season as Music Director of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra — a milestone I'm deeply proud of.
The Daily Memphian recently published a beautiful feature on this journey, and reading it reminded me of how far we've come together. When I arrived in 2016, the orchestra was facing existential challenges. Today, we've built something I believe is truly special: a sound and a spirit that's unique to Memphis, rooted in collaboration, innovation, and a belief that orchestral music should feel alive and urgent.
The piece talks about the fire alarm that went off during my very first guest performance with the MSO. We evacuated mid-Sibelius, came back 30 minutes later, and picked up right where we'd left off. I think that moment set the tone: resilience, humor, and a refusal to let obstacles derail the music. (Read the full article here.)
Memphis has become home. And I dedicate every note we make together to Jimmy, my late husband, who believed in this orchestra as much as I do.
Packing for Hong Kong (and What I'm Bringing with Me)
I'm writing this from Memphis, in between rehearsals and late-night score study sessions. My suitcase is half-packed, the dogs are giving me guilt-trip looks, and I'm running through mental checklists: scores, comfortable shoes for long rehearsal days, and — this is key — my noise-canceling headphones for the flight.
Traveling for guest conducting always has a kind of nervous energy to it. You're walking into someone else's house, so to speak, and your job is to honor that while also bringing your own voice. I've been thinking a lot about what I want to say in Hong Kong — not with words, but with gesture, tempo, breath. How do I help this incredible orchestra and Renée create something that feels both deeply personal and universal?
One thing I always pack, literally and figuratively, is a sense of curiosity. I want to learn from the musicians I work with. What do they bring to this music that I haven't considered? How does their city, their history, their culture inform the way they hear a phrase or shape a line? That's the magic of guest conducting: every time, you discover something new.
Also, I'm definitely packing my running shoes. I've heard Victoria Harbour at sunrise is something you don't want to miss.
Come Along for the Journey
If you've made it this far, thank you. Truly. These newsletters are my way of keeping you close to the music and the moments that matter most to me. Whether you're a longtime friend of the Memphis Symphony, someone who caught one of this year's debuts, or just curious about what happens when a conductor gets on a plane to Hong Kong — I'm grateful you're here.
If you're in Hong Kong, I'd love to see you at the concerts on October 24th or 25th. If you're not, follow along on Facebook or Instagram — I'll be sharing glimpses of rehearsals, the city, and what it's like to stand in front of one of Asia's great orchestras for the first time.
And as always, if there's music in your life that's brought you comfort, joy, or clarity lately, I'd love to hear about it. Reply to this email. Tell me what's moving you. Music is a conversation, and I'm always listening.
With gratitude,
Robert
P.S. — The dogs send their regards. They're convinced I'm abandoning them forever. I've tried explaining "two weeks," but they're not buying it.
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These aren’t just concerts. They are invitations to share in something sacred, something live and unrepeatable. I’d love for you to be part of it.