Kleiber died on July 13 at 74, but in keeping with the mystery that surrounded his later years, his death was announced only on the 19th.
He was a tormented man, an almost terrifyingly gifted interpreter whose self-dissatisfaction eventually took the form of self-laceration.
The legends about him made him seem almost psychotic, and one celebrated performer who worked with him often and admired him greatly described him as "deeply sick."
Armchair psychiatrists in the music world have speculated that Kleiber's career, maybe his entire adult life, was based on a deep-seated Oedipal need to surpass his father, the marvelous Viennese-born conductor Erich Kleiber, in repertory the older man had been closely associated with.
Although there may be some truth here, the fact is that both Kleibers amassed vast repertories early in their careers.
Since Carlos Kleiber was notoriously, perhaps obsessively, secretive, the true story of his psychological relationship to his father has not yet emerged.
What we do know is that he was born in 1930 in Berlin, where his father was the revered music director of the state opera.
Carlos's mother, Ruth Goodrich, was American; she and Erich Kleiber had met in Buenos Aires while she was working at the United States Embassy and he was conducting at the Teatro Colón.
The Kleibers left Germany in 1935, because Erich was opposed to the Nazi regime's racism and antimodernism, and they eventually settled in Argentina, where their son Karl became known as Carlos.
The family was peripatetic, and for a time after the war Carlos attended high school in the Bronx.
Erich Kleiber, like many other musician parents, was leery of having his son enter the family business: an especially daunting path for the child of a famous conductor.
But Carlos's passion for music and his volcanic talent ultimately broke his father's resistance.
Kleiber gained most of his conducting experience in Düsseldorf, Zurich and Munich from the late 1950's to the early 70's.
His international career took off during the mid-70's and stayed at its height through the 80's.
Overwhelming success greeted him everywhere, but at the same time he began to limit his repertory to some 10 standard operas and not many more symphonic works.
He attributed his attitude to laziness, but his maniacal perfectionism and the sense of desolating frustration that overwhelmed him when his goals were not met must have had something to do with his increasing isolation.
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