Celebrating Conductor William Christie’s Musical Legacy

Watching renowned harpsichordist, conductor and founder of ensemble Les Arts Florissants William Christie at work is to see someone truly in their element. The joy he exudes as he interacts with musicians is a testament to his decades spent living his passion. Christie’s performances are not only feats of musical talent but an invitation to rediscover the beauty of a once-forgotten repertoire. 

Born in Buffalo, New York, Christie attended Havard and Yale before the Vietnam War broke out. Opposed to the war, he relocated to Europe for both personal and professional reasons, moving to France in 1971 where he became a towering figure in the revival and reimagination of Baroque music. Through Les Arts Florissants, the groundbreaking ensemble he founded in 1979, Christie has brought centuries-old compositions into the 21st century with elegance and energy.

Today, Christie turns 80. The milestone provided him with a chance to reflect on his illustrious career. 

Can you recall your first musical memory? 

WC I can’t really recall my first musical memory but it had to have occurred with my mother putting me in front of a piano and giving me my first lesson. That was when I was five years old. Then after that it was going off to the Buffalo Philharmonic and listening to concerts with my mother and my grandmother. My mother, I think, could have made an enormously good career as a musician, which she didn’t do, so she sort of lived her musical side through me. I think she was probably the most important musical influence I had, up until the time I went off to study. She directed a little church choir, a very good choir actually, so that meant when I was 8 or 9 years old I already knew the names of Bach and Handel and hymns. Those were the first experiences, really. 

It seems from a young age you already had a feeling of the direction you wanted to move in.. 

WC Oh completely! Yes. Well, I had a feeling that music was going to be a very important part of my life. I had no idea I would become a professional musician. 

Did you hope that you would?

WC No, I didn’t even think about that. Music was enjoyment, music was a discipline. When I was at university I did, but it took me two years of Havard before I decided that I really wanted to become a musician. There were lots of pulls in different directions. 

What were some of the other directions you could have taken? 

WC Well I was in pre-med for a little while, and I loved architecture and painting. I did a lot in the industry of art, so I had multiple interests, you see. But deciding to make a career out of it is an enormous decision to make. 

Something I noticed when I watch your concerts is this incredible enjoyment you exude. It’s very youthful. How do you continue to have so much joy in your work after so many years? 

WC Because I like what I do. 

It’s impressive to be able to maintain that. I’ve noticed, interviewing people in creative industries over the years, that often that joy dies off. Is there an active effort in maintaining your love for your work?

WC Do I force myself to look as if I’m enjoying what I do? [Laughs] No obviously not, there is no thought about it whatsoever. Do I sometimes get tired? Of course I do. Do I sometimes have to have a little separation? Obviously. But some of the most wonderful moments in my life are actually making music with others, for other people. 

Do you find that you have to find new ways of expressing the music to keep it exciting? 

WC That happens naturally, just evolution and spending a lifetime working on music. Obviously new ideas pop up all the time. You learn a metier (craft). A painter learns how to paint. A writer learns the skills of writing. But, obviously, within that disciple you’re constantly thinking about things. 

How has your relationship with the Baroque repertoire evolved throughout your career?

WC What was an initial and very important shock in discovering Baroque music very young, obviously now I have a whole sort of world, and that’s very important. 

To still have so much passion towards the same repertoire is remarkable. 

WC Well if you don’t have passion, it becomes routine, and routine is one of the most awful things to happen. Do I know musicians who essentially just have that? Of course, they have no sense of passion whatsoever. They’ve lost it or they never had it. It’s just a livelihood. Do I like those kinds of musicians? Well obviously not but they have to exist. I feel sorry for them, but they exist obviously. Passion is important. I think one of the reasons I like Baroque music is we’re specialists, which means we prefer certain music and we prefer to play it with certain people. 

Have you ever experienced a moment of doubt concerning the career path you chose? 

WC Passion means that somehow I look at myself and I don’t measure up to what I thought I might be able to do. Moments of self-doubt, and those are terrible. But that’s part of the whole thing about passion. Passion is consuming and can be negative sometimes. 

Was the creation of your own ensemble conscious or was it something that happened upon you? 

WC It was a deliberate, very conscious, very well thought out, difficult but inevitable decision. I wanted to fly with my own wings and I wanted to express my own ideas in music. That’s a hard decision to make. 

How do you navigate the interpersonal dynamics of the ensemble and cultivate a space where people feel comfortable and confident? 

WC First of all you have to give people the idea that they might have great ideas but somehow you can bring these ideas together, or somehow your ideas are better than theirs. That’s a subtly, there’s a lot of human psychology involved. But the idea of being a leader is obviously something that is a difficult subject. There’s a lot of fantastic musicians but they can’t play with anybody or they can’t lead anybody. 

How do you handle commentary and reviews of your work? 

WC You have to prepare yourself that you can’t be liked by everybody, and that what you’re doing can appeal or not appeal. How do you deal with that? Do you like to please or do you simply just not care? I know people, for example, who have little worries about what they’re doing and the impression they make on people. The fact is that yes, we’re vulnerable. Do I still get affected by reviews that are less than incredibly positive? Yes, of course I do. 

Who is your Mastermind? 

WC When I was in university, I had people who I suddenly realised were interested in me. Two in particular gave me an assessment of what they thought was needed and how I could perhaps make things better in certain ways. Those were important people. People who were immensely gifted musically. I wrote a letter to a magnificent harpsicordest, a sort of fan letter, and he said, “It’s pleasant to hear what my music means to someone like you, why don’t you come down and play for me?” He was teaching at Yale and I did, and then I spent the next few years with him.