As the lights dim at the Metropolitan Opera and the audience hushes, Yannick Nézet-Séguin emerges from the wings to the orchestra pit. A quiet ripple of applause follows as the conductor ascends the podium for a moment of poised stillness before he ignites the performance of Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida. Under his baton, Aida at the Met unfolds not just as an opera, but as an immersive three-hour spell. His gestures and facial expressions are electrifying and part of what makes his conducting so visceral and unforgettable. He doesn’t merely keep time—he embodies the music. Every emotion coursing through the score registers on his face with complete sincerity. His eyes widen, his brows arch, and his mouth opens in silent dialogue with the orchestra, as if he’s breathing the music into life.

As a young boy growing up in Montreal, Nézet-Séguin liked to play Pope, admitting he thought he would actually become one. That sense of calling found a different, musical path. “I was obsessed with putting records on,” Nézet-Séguin recalls of his childhood, listening to his parents’ collection of Dalida, Joe Dassin, Beethoven, and Bach. He studied piano, sang in a choir, and thought, “Oh, music in a group, that’s fun, it’s a sharing experience, but I wanted my own role in the group.” He told his parents he wanted to be a conductor, and at 13, he called the Conservatoire de musique de Québec and registered himself. “My parents were like, sure, okay, you are going to change your mind. I never did.”

Nézet-Séguin’s journey to the summit of classical music was forged through sheer, relentless discipline and an unshakable sense of purpose. From conducting imaginary orchestras as a child, his ascent is a testament to determination meeting extraordinary talent. In the late 1990s, he sought out Carlo Maria Giulini, the legendary Italian conductor, travelling to Italy to study with him privately. “Even though we did not work so long together—when we met, he was 80 and I was 22—it was so overwhelming,” he says of his time as protege and their philosophical sessions that focused as much on the meaning of music as on baton technique. “He was so open and respectful of a young kid who had silly questions, and he made a big impression on me, how to bring the best out of people,” Nézet-Séguin says of his mentor. Giulini encouraged the young Yannick to study not only orchestration and tempo but also emotional subtext, literary influences, and even human psychology. “For me music is emotion. It has to be. There’s a lot of intellect going on in order to generate emotion, but there’s no music if there’s no emotion reaction.”

Yannick Nézet-Séguin stands at the centre of some of the most vital music institutions in the world: the Met, where he has been music director since 2018; the Philadelphia Orchestra as music and artistic director since 2012; and the Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal, where he holds a lifetime contract as artistic director and principal conductor.

Nézet-Séguin stands at the centre of some of the most vital music institutions in the world: the Met, where he has been music director since 2018; the Philadelphia Orchestra as music and artistic director since 2012; and the Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal, where he holds a lifetime contract as artistic director and principal conductor. To say that he is busy is an understatement. He is one of the most in-demand conductors, seamlessly moving between symphonic stages, opera houses, and concert halls. “The nature of a musician is to always be busy,” he says. “I do it quite often, an opera in the afternoon in New York, and then I go to Philadelphia and I conduct a concert at night.” Whether he’s leading the romantic sweep of Mahler in Philadelphia, Richard Strauss’s one-act tragedy Salome in New York, or returning home to Montreal to conduct (and see his cats) with intimate intensity, his musical language remains fluid and expressive. In an art form sometimes criticized for emotional reserve, Nézet-Séguin’s physicality is a bold counterpoint. His body language says what the musical score cannot: Feel this now. For audiences, it’s magnetic. For orchestras, it’s galvanizing. His expressiveness breaks the invisible wall between stage and seat, reminding us that classical music is not just heard—it’s lived. “Sometimes I wish that more of my colleagues, my peers would remember why we do this and show more love,” he says.

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“For me music is emotion. It has to be. There’s a lot of intellect going on in order to generate emotion, but there’s no music if there’s no emotion reaction.” —Yannick Nézet-Séguin

“Without criticizing, to each their own, I guess, but music is an act of giving, it’s an act of sharing, and therefore it has to start with love. Love for the music first.”

Nézet-Séguin became director of Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal at 25. He’s now 50 and continues in his pursuit to open up the stuffy world of classical music to a wider audience. He is known to pair classic with contemporary works, underrepresented composers, and new commissions. At the Met, he has championed operas like Fire Shut Up in My Bones by Terence Blanchard, the first opera by a Black composer staged at the Met, and brought Dead Man Walking and Florencia en el Amazonas to new prominence. “There’s plenty of good opera houses around the world,” says Peter Gelb, general manager for the Metropolitan Opera, “and I like to think ours is one of the better ones, certainly in terms of championing human rights and artistic expression—the Met is a leader.”

Nézet-Séguin has a rare combination of gravitas and approachability. He understands the depth of the canon but refuses to let reverence turn into rigidity. He speaks fluently to the social media generation, sharing behind-the-scenes glimpses and rehearsal moments, bringing audiences in on the process, making classical music feel less intimidating and more accessible. For him, breaking barriers doesn’t mean diluting art—it means making space for more people to experience it fully. “The conductor is the connective tissue that brings all together,” Gelb says of the role. “The artistic ground plan for a performance is created in rehearsal, and it’s in the performance that it soars if the conductor is truly inspired. That is the metaphysical aspect of the performing arts. It’s a question of artistic chemistry. A great conductor like Yannick has to gauge the relative performance abilities of his singers on any given day.”

Musicians often speak about Nézet-Séguin’s respectful and collaborative approach. He doesn’t impose his will from the podium. Instead, he invites interpretation, listens deeply, and creates space for shared ownership of the music. He brings a contagious energy. He knows the score intimately (“I know the requiems in my sleep,” he says), and musicians respond, saying it helps them play more freely and more intensely. His gestures are fluid yet precise, balletic but never theatrical for the sake of showmanship. Whether it’s a sweeping arm to open a phrase or a barely perceptible flick of the wrist to cue a soloist, every movement is deeply communicative. Musicians respond not just to his technique but also to his physical empathy—they feel what he feels.

“We rehearse, we prepare, but the magic of music is when all the antennas, the energy you have, connect on the supernatural level,” Nézet-Séguin says of the sacred relationship between conductor and musicians. “You trust that it’s going to work. Trust is important. You can’t invent it. You can’t buy it. You can’t decide ‘I trust you, you trust me.’ It’s fidelity.”

In a time when the arts are under increasing pressure due to funding cuts, shifting cultural priorities, and the challenge of staying relevant in a fast-moving digital world, consistent meaningful support of the arts is more vital than ever. Across disciplines, artists and institutions are being asked to do more with less. Amid this uncertainty, Rolex has emerged not just as a patron but as a true cultural partner. For decades, Rolex has supported musicians, opera houses, orchestras, and cultural institutions around the world not as a marketing gimmick but as part of a deeper commitment to artistic excellence and legacy. Rolex has long distinguished itself as one of the rare luxury brands that doesn’t just sponsor the arts—it truly celebrates them. Last year, Nézet-Séguin was named a Rolex Testimonee, joining the prestigious family of Rolex brand ambassadors that includes distinguished musicians like Yuja Wang, Bryn Terfel, and Cecilia Bartoli.

“Trust is what attracted me to be with Rolex,” he says. “It’s the only company that I feel is really valuing the performing arts, 50 years now in the arts.” While he doesn’t wear his Rolex during performances—“we wouldn’t see it as a result of my outfit”—he is a proud collector, confirming five Rolex watches to his name.

What we do see is a style as vibrant as his conducting. With his ever-changing hair—“I had blue hair, red hair, silver hair, bleached hair, flat iron, curly, everything, and very ugly sometimes,” he says lightheartedly—and a wardrobe that leans toward bold, tailored, and often playfully eccentric, he defies the traditionally buttoned-up image of a maestro. He rarely wears a formal tuxedo, and if he does, there is always a twist. His concert shoes are only Christian Louboutin. “Nothing else matters in a way other than authenticity,” Nézet-Séguin asserts. “I don’t want to pretend I am something I am not.” He credits his husband, Pierre Tourville, as the “style person,” but also “fashion is something I love to follow. It’s an expression of oneself and to be oneself in any circumstance.” His aesthetic choices aren’t just for show—they reflect his larger philosophy that classical music should be for everyone.

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Musicians often speak about Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s respectful and collaborative approach. He doesn’t impose his will from the podium. Instead, he invites interpretation, listens deeply, and creates space for shared ownership of the music.

Through partnerships with institutions like The Julliard School and Curtis Institute, Nézet-Séguin actively supports emerging artists. “For conducting, it’s not important to start young,” the conductor says, recognizing the irony of his statement. Nor do you need to be a virtuoso on multiple instruments. “You need to be a fully formed musician in one instrument,” he maintains. “I don’t play any other instrument than piano. I had a few trumpet lessons and took a few lessons of cello to understand how it works.” More importantly, “you have to develop as a musician to know the difference between playing the notes and then injecting your own view on it.” Singer, violinist, flautist, percussionist—anything, and Nézet-Séguin mentions Simon Rattle, indeed a percussionist turned conductor.

Can conductors become household names? Nézét-Séguin has the charisma, the artistry, and the storytelling. He commands teams, interprets tradition with personal flair, and transforms notes into unforgettable experiences. What’s been missing until recently is visibility. He has stepped out from the podium into the cultural conversation. In a world hungry for authenticity, the conductor’s emotional intelligence, global reach, and interpretive power are more relevant than ever. While Nézet-Séguin never donned the papal robes, he has found his cathedral in the concert hall. He isn’t just conducting orchestras. He’s conducting a cultural shift.

Photographs courtesy of Rolex Canada.

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