Michael Tilson Thomas Bids an Emotional Farewell at His 80th Birthday Concert

When Michael Tilson Thomas walked on stage at Davies Symphony Hall Saturday night, two things were evident. One: the applause from both the orchestra and audience was unbridled. And two: the beloved maestro was moving slowly.

As if to acknowledge the crowd’s concern, Thomas cracked a wry smile and asked for a drumroll. Then, like he’d done thousands of times before, he climbed the steps to stand at the podium. Trouble-free.

You guessed it: the crowd went wild.

For this was no ordinary symphony performance, but a party — balloon drop and all — for the esteemed conductor, composer and music director’s 80th birthday. The mood was festive, even with the hard facts hanging in the air. Thomas announced in February that after three and a half years of treatment for brain cancer, the tumor had returned, and that this would be his final appearance with the symphony.

He was a little weaker, yes. But the love in the room was about the strongest I’ve ever seen.

The night’s testimonials and blown kisses nearly outnumbered the hues of blue, Thomas’ favorite color. A screen showed a photo montage spanning a life in music, from boyhood to global stature. Commemorative blue bandanas draped on every seat bore a quote from Thomas reading, in part, “To be an artist is to have the courage for rebirth and growth. It’s never ending.”

At the stand, furnished with a chair he ended up not using, Thomas conducted with stoic deliberation. During the opener, Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Henry Purcell from Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, numerous instruments got solo time: tympani, piccolo, harp. Amid the context of the evening, it felt like each orchestra section taking turns talking to Thomas, wishing him the best.

During the program closer of Respighi’s Roman Festivals, with all sections playing over each other seemingly on their own time, a conductor might be tempted to lunge in with dramatic flair. Instead, amidst the chaos, he calmly marked the beat, 1-2-3-4, trusting the orchestra as always.

Even while Teddy Abrams or Edwin Outwater assumed the podium for the remaining pieces, such as the finale to Chichester Psalms by Thomas’ mentor and close friend Leonard Bernstein, Thomas couldn’t help but half-conduct along, sitting in a special chair onstage next to his husband Joshua Robison, who produced the event.

For a series of his own songs, all of them vocal pieces performed in new arrangements, he allowed himself the pleasure of listening.

There has been meaning and earnestness in everything Thomas does. His original songs are no exception — musings on life which acknowledge sadness but are never consumed by it. His song “Not Everyone Thinks That I’m Beautiful” warns of wearing the heart too prominently on one’s sleeve; meanwhile, “Grace” opens with a reference to a plate of herring.

Nearly everybody called to the stage used their time to sing Thomas’ praises. While City Hall across the street was lit up in blue, San Francisco Mayor Daniel Lurie proclaimed April 26 “Michael Tilson Thomas Day” — not before remarking on the Davies stage that “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be as great as MTT.” Edwin Outwater, who was hired by Thomas the week of 9/11, proclaimed to the maestro with affection and awe that “some of your ideas are insane,” and meant it as a high compliment.

The four solo singers employed for the performance shared anecdotes and memories of how Thomas changed their careers. Sasha Cooke joked about almost wearing a cowboy hat to the concert. Jessica Vosk recalled how Thomas cast her in West Side Story after she kicked off a shoe during her audition. Frederica von Stade recalled singing Debussy’s La flûte de Pan “ff-f-ff-ff-ff-forty years ago?!” at Carnegie Hall in mock discombobulation at the passage of time.

Ben Jones, his voice cracking, summed up the influence that Thomas as a mentor has had on so many: “You were one of the first people to make me feel like I might be able to do this,” he said.

Just as with Thomas’ performance last year conducting Mahler’s Fifth Symphony in his last series concert with the Symphony, emotions were tempered by the remarkable life and career of a monumental figure who has become indelibly interwoven with the city of San Francisco.

At the concert’s end, before blue balloons bounced around the stage and the orchestra chanted “MTT! MTT!,” Cooke, Jones, Vosk and von Stade sang one last song. “Some Other Time,” written by Bernstein with colleagues Betty Comden and Adolph Green, had a plaintive, reflective spirit perfect for the moment.

Once again, from his chair, Thomas conducted a downbeat here, a cymbal accent there. And then — to Robison, to the orchestra, to the audience, to the world — he began singing along at the song’s end:

There’s so much more embracing
Still to be done
But time is racing
Oh well, we’ll catch up some other time