‘Everything Has a Time’: Cleveland’s Longest-Serving Conductor Plans His Departure

One night last fall, Franz Welser-Möst, the music director of the Cleveland Orchestra, walked onto the stage of Severance Hall, crossed over to the podium and faced the audience. He was neither solemn nor particularly expressive; he just flashed a Mona Lisa smile before turning to the players and gesturing the downbeat of a Mozart symphony.

For the regulars in the audience, this was a familiar sight. Welser-Möst, 63, is known more for his authoritative, even demanding, conducting than for his showmanship. And what followed that night was also familiar, as the orchestra turned out a program of the Mozart, a new percussion concerto and a Tchaikovsky rarity at the exhilaratingly high level that has led many to call this ensemble the finest in America.

Unflashy yet unmatched. Such is the culture of the Cleveland Orchestra, an oasis of excellence, maintained and nurtured since Welser-Möst became its music director in 2002. And while there is more to come — the orchestra opens Welser-Möst’s Perspectives series with a pair of concerts at Carnegie Hall on Jan. 20 and 21 — the end of his tenure is in sight: He announced on Thursday that he would not renew his contract when it expires in 2027, which is relatively soon given the far-ahead planning cycles of classical music.

By then, Welser-Möst, who first took up the baton after a life-altering accident and is now conducting through treatments for cancer, will have become the longest-serving music director in the Cleveland Orchestra’s history. During that time, he has risen to the top of his field, especially in his home country, Austria, where he is adored by the Vienna Philharmonic and has practically been in residence at the prestigious Salzburg Festival over the past decade.

In an age and an industry that reward celebrity savviness, Welser-Möst is among the precious few conductors who have built their reputations on skill alone — occasionally stepping into the limelight but mostly letting the music speak for itself. In a thinly veiled nod to media-hungry maestros, he once wrote: “I have no photos from a fitness studio on Instagram, no Facebook posts from my private circle and no tweets wearing bathing trunks. On the podium, too, it is unlikely that the public or critics will catch me breaking into a spontaneous dance.”