“I think Michael is a big part of the reason,” he said, “why I allow myself to think creatively about the concert experience.”
With the rise of YouTube, Thomas was one of the first major conductors to harness its power as a creative and pedagogical tool. He founded the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, which accepted international auditions and produced concerts that were livestreamed to an audience in the tens of millions.
That project brought Mason Bates, the composer of “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay” at the Metropolitan Opera this season, to wider renown. His compositions “The B-Sides” and “Mothership” were performed by the YouTube Symphony Orchestra. Bates credits Thomas with bringing his music “to a national audience,” which, he said, led to a commission from Santa Fe Opera for his first opera, “The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs.”
“I mean, this is the guy that premiered ‘Short Ride in a Fast Machine,’ which is one of the most performed new pieces by a living composer,” said Bates, referring to a short work by John Adams. “He gave me specific musical feedback, which not a lot of conductors do.”
In recent years, he sought Thomas’s counsel while composing “Kavalier & Clay.” Bates has also been working to adapt his “Philharmonia Fantastique” — an animated introduction to the symphony orchestra — into a children’s exhibition, and he said that his quest to find creative, immersive ways to reach young audiences bears Thomas’s stamp.
“Michael has been the model for me of how an artist in 21st-century America can bring the deep experience of classical music to everybody,” Bates said.
In his final chapter, Thomas returned, again, to working with young people. He was appointed a distinguished professor of music at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music in 2024, at a time when his public appearances dwindled following a diagnosis of aggressive brain cancer a few years earlier. At the school, he led readings with the student orchestra, coached chamber groups and gave one-on-one private lessons with especially promising students.
The arrangement, made at Robison’s urging, was mutually beneficial, said the school’s president, David Stull. Thomas would remain intellectually active, and students would have the chance to learn from someone who had shaped San Francisco’s musical culture.
“He knew that he needed to rest and conserve his energy, but he wanted to work,” Stull said. “We’re the last generation to work with him.”
Since Thomas’s death, Abrams has spent time dwelling over Thomas’s letter. It’s framed in his bedroom in Louisville, where he lives full time — yet another way in which he has followed in his mentor’s footsteps.
Abrams has also returned to a detail at the end of “Viva Voce,” Thomas’s 1994 as-told-to memoir written with the British music journalist Edward Seckerson. In it, Thomas describes getting a palm reading abroad.
The fortune teller told Thomas that he wouldn’t start doing the thing he’d be remembered for until his 50s, he recalled. He was 49 and on the eve of his move to San Francisco.
“Whatever it is,” Thomas said, “it’s about to happen.”