The Acoustic Scale of Idealism: Ole Bækhøj on Barenboim, Gehry, and the Radical Art of Listening
The Acoustic Scale of Idealism: Ole Bækhøj on Barenboim, Gehry, and the Radical Art of Listening
"I want people to leave a little more curious than when they arrived" Interview by Ligia Boueres / BlueLobster Art
Ahead of the Daniel Barenboim Stiftung’s traditional summer concert at the Waldbühne, the foundation's new CEO speaks with Ligia Falcão Boueres about music as a vehicle for learning to listen—to each other, and to the unfamiliar.
Once a year, the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra leaves the formal concert hall behind and walks onto the open-air stage of the Waldbühne before an audience of twenty thousand people. This summer, cellist Yo-Yo Ma joins them as soloist for a landmark performance—the first overseen by new CEO Ole Bækhøj, who spent the past decade as Intendant of the 600-seat Pierre Boulez Saal before stepping into leadership across the entire foundation.
Sitting in the administrative offices of the Pierre Boulez Saal, beneath Frank Gehry’s original pencil sketch of two floating ovals, Bækhøj operates at the intersection of acoustic intimacy and global vision. As CEO, he now assumes responsibility for an ecosystem spanning kindergarten programs, a music academy, international initiatives in Ramallah and Seville, and the world-renowned West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. Bækhøj’s perspective is distinct: before managing major orchestras in London, Copenhagen, and Berlin, he was a professional double bassist. That background gives him a sensory, almost tactile understanding of sound—one that feels as relevant in Gehry’s elliptical chamber as it does when thousands gather in the forest amphitheater of the Waldbühne.
INTERVIEW
The Journey: From Double Bass to Institutional Vision
BlueLobster Art: Ole, before we dive into the scale of the orchestra and the foundation, I want to trace your path back to the instrument itself. You began as a double bassist in Denmark. For a performing artist, stepping off the stage to lead institutions is a profound shift. Was there a specific moment when your focus expanded from performing a score to organizing the environment where musical encounters happen?
Ole Bækhøj: I was always very drawn to music as a child, but I realized later that it wasn't only that I loved music itself; I loved what music does to people. It brings people together, and there's a particular intensity in being with other people, especially when performing.
I switched from violin to bass, sang in choir, and when finishing high school, I said I wanted to be a musician. My careers advisor looked at me as if I were mad. But I got into the music academy, and I still remember getting my acceptance letter—dated on my birthday. I was so happy because I knew that was going to be my focus.
It's almost funny now that I don't actually perform anymore. During my studies, I became more and more curious about how things actually get organized and made to happen. I started organizing projects with friends, moved to Amsterdam, then worked in London for seven years with the Gabrieli Consort & Players. Later I ran the Danish National Symphony Orchestra in Copenhagen, and then moved to Berlin to manage the Mahler Chamber Orchestra. From there, Daniel Barenboim asked me to become the first Intendant of the Pierre Boulez Saal about ten years ago.
"I realized later that it wasn't only that I loved music itself; I loved what music DOES to people. It brings people together." — Ole Bækhøj
BlueLobster Art: Having worked closely with Daniel Barenboim for a decade, how do you understand his fundamental motivation? From the outside, his work often gets interpreted through a political lens, but what drives it from within?
Ole Bækhøj: What I've learned is that what he's really interested in is music and people—and through people, humanity. A lot of what looks political about his work is really, at its core, about human beings. Taking on this new role at the Daniel Barenboim Stiftung means overseeing the whole family of projects—the academy, the concert hall, schools in Ramallah and Seville, and the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. I love the programming profile we built at the Pierre Boulez Saal, but I find this bigger, more holistic picture even more exciting: what do we need to do to connect with people and open the door for them to encounter music they might not know?
Everything matters in that process—ticketing, marketing, communication, how people feel the moment they arrive. If we do all of that beautifully, we remove the hurdles standing between people and the art itself.
Spatial Acoustics: From an Intimate Ellipse to 20,000 in the Forest.
BlueLobster Art: You spent a decade curating the acoustic precision of the Boulez Saal, a hall seating up to 682 people, wrapped around the musicians. Now, at the Waldbühne, you’re bringing the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra into a massive forest amphitheater for 20,000 listeners. How do you approach that dramatic change in physical and acoustic scale?
Ole Bækhøj: In some ways, nothing beats the intimacy of the smaller hall—that pure, warm, concentrated acoustic experience. But being in a place with 20,000 people in a natural setting, with the sunset and the birds—that's a completely different kind of magic. When we get the lighting, amplification, and orchestra right, your brain and ears adapt after a few minutes, and you can just focus on the music and forget everything else.
It's a lovely thing to do with friends or family—very welcoming and inclusive. Sitting there as the sunset turns into night, with the music and the trees and the lights around you—it's remarkable how you get 20,000 people fully absorbed in classical music.
"Sitting there as the sunset turns into night, with the music and the trees... it's remarkable how you get 20,000 people fully absorbed in classical music." — Ole Bækhøj
BlueLobster Art: The Waldbühne environment naturally dissolves the formal boundaries of classical music performance. How does that setting interact with this summer's repertoire—Dvořák’s Cello Concerto and Schumann’s 'Rhenish' Symphony?
Ole Bækhøj: The audience seems to stretch on forever. At the end of the concert, people often hold up their phone lights, and you get this beautiful sea of little lights across the space. This year the program includes the Dvořák Cello Concerto, performed by Yo-Yo Ma, and Schumann's Third Symphony—the "Rhenish." Schumann wrote it after moving to that part of Germany, and a visit to Cologne Cathedral left a particularly strong impression on him, which is reflected especially in the solemn fourth movement. The Dvořák is just beautiful, romantic music—and with Yo-Yo Ma playing it, it's like being in heaven.
Generational Lineage & The Ethos of Curiosity
BlueLobster Art: Yo-Yo Ma’s connection to this project dates back to the orchestra’s founding workshop in Weimar in 1999. What does it transmit to a new generation of musicians when an artist of his stature sits in the center of an orchestra built on cross-cultural dialogue?
Ole Bækhøj: It means a great deal to the musicians to make music with Yo-Yo Ma. He could do anything, and he chose to do this summer tour with the orchestra. When you're touring together, spending time in hotels and airports, real connections form. This isn't just an orchestra that plays well—it's a community where people learn about each other and about themselves. It's an invitation to the rest of us to consciously choose to be curious, to be willing to learn about others rather than only seeking what we already know. Yo-Yo Ma is a strong example of someone who has decided to live that way—always learning about the world rather than staying closed inside one fixed perspective.
"As human beings we tend to live inside a bubble of certain perspectives... but you can choose to step outside that bubble. That's what culture does for us." — Ole Bækhøj
BlueLobster Art: Pierre Boulez famously said he would become ill if he didn't regularly learn something new. How does that mindset shape your programming philosophy?
Ole Bækhøj: When I asked Daniel Barenboim why he chose to name the hall after Pierre Boulez, he said Boulez was one of the most important people to have lived in the last hundred years, and it was better than naming the hall after a sponsor! I realized what's really powerful is the approach to life behind Boulez's quote. It’s a great inspiration for planning an artistic program: don't get lazy, don't get too comfortable, don't just perform the same pieces again and again. As human beings we tend to function inside a bubble of certain perspectives—you can't take in everything at once, but you can choose to step outside that bubble. That's what culture does for us.
The Story of Frank Gehry’s Oval
BlueLobster Art: We are sitting here beneath Frank Gehry’s original sketch for the Pierre Boulez Saal. Gehry and Barenboim built something radical here—a venue that fundamentally alters the power dynamic between performer and listener. How did that design come into being?
Ole Bækhøj: Frank Gehry reached out to Barenboim initially because he wanted his architecture students to meet with musicians from the orchestra to talk about what a concert hall should actually be. They became friends, and when the opportunity arose to build a hall for the Academy, Gehry offered to do the design work as a gift to the project, without asking for a fee. They met in December 2012 in Milan, and Gehry made a sketch—the one we have printed here—which looks almost like something a child could have drawn, but it's the essence of the whole design. Interestingly, Gehry’s team initially developed a conventional "shoebox" hall out of caution over functional specifications. But Barenboim pushed him: "Where are my ovals? I want the ovals." He encouraged Gehry to go for the bold artistic idea instead. I'm sure that never would have happened with a committee of twenty stakeholders—they'd have been too afraid of the risk.
“Where are my ovals? I want the ovals.” — Daniel Barenboim (to architect Frank Gehry) “I'm sure that never would have happened with a committee of twenty stakeholders—they'd have been too afraid of the risk.” — Ole Bækhøj
BlueLobster Art: What makes that modular elliptical space feel so fundamentally different from a traditional concert hall? Ole Bækhøj: In this design, you can see each other; you can't hide, and you become part of a shared experience. It's different from a classical shoebox hall, where the stage is elevated and you can disappear anonymously into the crowd. Here, the musicians aren't playing at you in one direction—they make music together, and you're invited into that circle.
Looking Ahead: The West-Eastern Divan Festival BlueLobster Art: Looking forward to autumn, the foundation is launching a major festival in November that spreads across Berlin—from the Philharmonie to Berghain and Silent Green. What is the vision behind taking this classical legacy into such distinct urban spaces?
Ole Bækhøj: The West-Eastern Divan Festival celebrates all the projects Daniel Barenboim and Edward Said created together, running from November 11th to 18th around Barenboim's birthday. We'll open with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra at the Philharmonie with Lang Lang as soloist, but we're also doing a live-electronics concert at Berghain, workshops and cinema screenings at Silent Green, and concerts here at the Pierre Boulez Saal. On Barenboim's birthday, November 15th, there'll be a concert by the West-Eastern Divan Ensemble, led by his son, Michael Barenboim.
The program ranges from big symphonic concerts down to very small chamber music and Palestinian music school workshops led by Emmanuel Pahud. It’s a chance for audiences to get close to genuine young talent and keep the city warm and vibrant through the winter.
BlueLobster Art: When audience members walk out of the Waldbühne this summer, or leave the festival concerts in November, what do you hope stays with them? Ole Bækhøj: I'm always happiest if I feel we've moved people a little in the direction of thinking, "I could learn something here, I could open my antennas a bit more." If people leave feeling inspired and a bit more curious, that would make me very happy.
