On December 18, 1892, in the Golden Hall of the Musikverein, the Vienna Philharmonic gave the premiere of Anton Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8, hailed by an anonymous critic as “the crown of music in our time.” On August 15, 2024, at the Salzburg Festival, Riccardo Muti took on its challenges for the first time, conducting the same orchestra. Muti was 83. His legendary association with the musicians already stretched back more than half a century. The revelatory interpretation they achieved on this occasion was captured on a prized special-edition CD—but would the planets ever align for an encore? The answer is yes, back at the hallowed Golden Hall, where Bruckner’s Eighth first resounded. Just how great an occasion are we talking about? Here’s the word from an octogenarian Vienna native inducted into Bruckner by his violinist father. “I can’t help feeling a personal connection going back to Bruckner himself,” our friend writes. “My father performed all Bruckner’s symphonies under the Master’s own disciple August Göllerich. And he believed that of all the great conductors of the past, Herbert von Karajan had the deepest understanding of what Bruckner was all about. For me, in our time, there are three supreme Bruckner interpreters: Herbert Blomstedt, Christian Thielemann, and Riccardo Muti. Each is in a class of his own. Thielemann is analytically superb, but he does not achieve the others’ depth and transcendence. Blomstedt’s Eighth, in particular, flows like a majestic stream that ultimately pours into some universal ocean. Muti’s has the unique extra element of drama, lifting you into the sky to take you crashing through Heaven’s Gate. You might also say—and it’s not wrong—that Muti builds his Bruckner like a cathedral, stone by stone, cut by stained-glass cut. But I should caution you on this. Too many have used this analogy. It has become a cliché.” —Matthew Gurewitsch