Mozart doesn't need a traffic cop

In the beginning, it was the recorder. He received it in his early years as part of the basic musical equipment that was almost mandatory back then.

Next came a keyboard that a relative had passed on to him, as well as the elementary school choir. That was all it took to awaken something in him that wavered between interest, curiosity, and fascination. And let’s not forget: fun. That played the leading role. The fun of making music. Of singing. And above all: of being part of a community. That’s how it all began…

What has been recounted here took place about 25 years ago in Styria and marked the beginning of conductor Patrick Hahn’s career. No, his family wasn’t particularly musically inclined. And no, that wasn’t a disadvantage—it was actually a stroke of luck for him. Because that’s how he gained the freedom to choose his own path and was able to take joy in the absence of genre-typical admonitions like “You have to win this competition” or “Practice more!”

But what he really needed were teachers open-minded enough to nurture his talent. He found them, too (“I was incredibly lucky—that’s part of it, too!”), first in the aforementioned elementary school choir, then with the Graz Boys’ Choir, and later at the University of Music and Performing Arts in Graz.

From the very beginning, he was interested in a lot—a great deal. Not just the piano, opera, and symphonic music, but the entire field of music.

“It was important to me to be open to everything—including musicals, operettas, jazz, and church music— I’ve conducted choirs and played the organ and percussion. It was all fun, and in a way, it’s all connected. Of course, you can also take something away from a musical production that applies to The Ring of the Nibelung. It might be hard to pinpoint exactly what that is, but one thing is certain: it’s something. And how else are you supposed to find out what you really enjoy doing if you haven’t tried a lot of different things?” Incidentally, he has retained his open-mindedness, as evidenced by a CD of Georg Kreisler songs that he recorded almost as an afterthought.

Part of this great musical journey of discovery was also that Hahn composed his first short opera at the age of twelve and was even allowed to stage it right away. Not only was this a joyful and proud moment, but—as might be expected—it was also a formative one. “When I stood in front of the orchestra and beat out the four- and three-beat measures just as the choir director had shown me, it became clear to me: “Whatever form it takes, this must be my life.”

So we have energy, enthusiasm, talent, and much more—but what about artistic development? How do you form a well-founded opinion? As a young conductor, how do you know—when it comes to an interpretation— “This is me; this is entirely my own opinion”? And all this amid the flood of content on Spotify and YouTube? Hahn: “Well, basically, I don’t trust anyone who claims they never listen to other people’s recordings. I think that’s unrealistic—or even a lie. After all, when I listen, I don’t just learn: ‘I like this,’ but also: ‘I don’t like this.’ And then I can ask myself: Why not? This knowledge also helps you progress. The key, however, is to put the recording away after listening and not start copying anything.”

But once you’ve found your own path, how do you know if it’s “right”? What system of rules still holds true today?

After all, didn’t Nikolaus Harnoncourt, for example, bring about a renewal of performance practice several decades ago and permanently shatter the then-prevalent“true”–“false” coordinate system of the time. “Much of it—setting aside technical aspects for a moment—is often very subjective,” says Hahn. “And it was precisely the original sound movement that showed us how a completely different perspective can take hold— —and how that perspective, in turn, changes.” For him, this is precisely where the beauty of art lies—namely, in the fact that re-examination never ends. “Because if it were any­other­way, then at some­point there would be just one, cor­rect re­pre­sent­a­tion. And then one would never have to take on a work again, never have to reinterpret it anew.”

Let’s now turn to Mozart, with whose Le nozze di Figaro Patrick Hahn will make his debut at the State Opera. Can Mozart’s music be summarized in two sentences for the conductor? What’s so unique about it? Perhaps this: “There is music that is simply structured and sounds that way, too. Mozart, on the other hand, manages to create an incredible atmosphere using very simple means. So it’s this apparent simplicity.”

Simple means—simple conducting? He dismisses the idea. “I recently conducted Wagner’s complete Ring, and compared to Mozart—in terms of purely rhythmic technique and finding the right tempos—that is, in my view, much simpler. In the past, despite all my love for Mozart, I used to steer clear of him as a conductor. I thought: If I beat too much, I’ll be disruptive. If I conduct too little, I won’t get what I want. I first had to learn what Mozart needs. Namely, no traffic cops, but of course also not someone who just switches to autopilot because ‘everyone knows the piece so well anyway.’»

And what does an orchestra need? An ensemble? What exactly is a conductor in the year 2026? The days of the stern, deified figures are undoubtedly over. Is a conductor today more of an equal among equals who stands at the podium? “Unfortunately, the latter doesn’t work. For both human and artistic reasons, the image and demeanor of a conductor have, fortunately, changed. But there’s still no democracy. I can’t ask a hundred people for their opinion, and “Best Friends” doesn’t work all the time either. But I’d be foolish to stubbornly ignore the unique skills, musicality, the knowledge, and the wealth of experience of the musicians. Even though we’re not talking about a democracy, what we do is always a collaborative effort!”