Returning to Charleston this week to present another Piano Portrait.."Debussy and the Sea" found an overflow audience of students, faculty and guests from the area. Charleston Southern University seems to grow bigger with each return visit. A new Band Hall funishes a very nice lecture room with a good Yamaha grand, and this makes an intimate setting. This new program shows the influence of Asian art and music on French musicians and artists in the late 19th, early 20th centuries. Paris was the scene of several International Expos, which brought people from all over the globe, especially the Far East. "La Mer" of Debussy bridges this divide beautifully, influenced as it is by the Gamelan orchestras brought over from Java and Bali for these expos. I wondered if the beautiful transcription by Lucien Garban might be a rather heavy dose for the listener, but I was delighted that the reception was so cordial and warm. When you think of the momumental influece of this score on composers who followed Debussy, it becomes apparent that our ears have long ago absorbed this idiom.
I have found playing a great symphonic work in transcription focuses the ear on the principle line of the piece, the definite shifts in harmonic direction, and the importance of highlighting thematic material. Keeping the underneath, supporting lines in proportion is the greatest challange. I learned a lot from this experience, and look forward to adding this work.."La Mer"...to my repertoire.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thoughts on Jacqueline du Pre
Playing a concert recently in my old neighborhood in London brought back memories of Jackie du Pre from the late 1950's, early 1960's. She lived with her family in a flat near the BBC Headquarters, just north of Oxford Circus. Just a short walk north is the Royal Academy of Music, Regent's Park, and the now reborn and booming Marylebone High Street. I first met Jackie when I went to a meeting of The London Cello Club in Notting Hill sometime in the fall of 1959. She played a recital with her mother at the piano. Sometime later, through a friend from Yale, the violinist Jack Glatzer, I was invited to her home for Sunday supper. We ate in the kitchen, and her mother, Iris, stayed in the background and let Jackie be hostess. Afterwards, Jackie show slides of their vacation on the Isle of Jersey. I could tell that this was where she loved to be, swimming in the sea, and playing on the beach. Both her brother and sister were there,but I never met her father, who never seemed to emerge from his study. Hillary du Pre was at the RAM with me, and I saw her frequently, as her accompanist Christina Mason and I were both students of John Wills.
That summer we all went to Zermatt, Switzerland to the Pablo Casals Masterclasses. During three weeks of intensive work I was able to hear Jackie several times during her classes with Casals.Although there were individual courses in strings,voice, opera studio and chamber music with piano, everyone spent the morning with Casals as he gave lessons to a large group of cellists. My guess is that Jackie was about 15 at this time. Casals was clearly taken with her, but there were a couple of older cellists of some statue there that summer, and she was not chosen for the final concert, which was a mixture of cello, voice, opera studio, and piano. I remember her playing a Boccherini Concerto with great poise and warmth of sound. Casals signed a photograph of the two of them, putting the word "talent" over her head with an arrow pointing towards her. A charming touch from a dear man who always had kind words for everyone, but who was also tough, tough, tough.
Jackie came to hear me play, along with her mother and sister, at the Fulbright Commission on South Audley Street. I remember Christina Mason carefully turning down the pages of my Schubert Sonata in B Flat, Op.posth. She seemed starled when I said I was playing it from memory! Jack Glatzer also played the Brahms G Major Sonata with me, so it was a real reunion from Zermatt.
When I read comments about Jackie today, by all and sundry, I am always struck by my own personal thoughts about her, and the hype and fantasy scenario we have today about her life and music. Just today I read an article in The Telegraph about the current proms season, expecially about Tasmin Little playing the Elgar Violin Concerto. The writer followed with a description of Jackie playing the Elgar Cello Conerto, the work most identified with her.. then and now. He said, referring to a clip of her playing, that there was this sexual energy in her playing, and launched into a rather too personal account of her marriage to Daniel Barenboim, his many romantic adventures, leaving me with the feeling that all this was somehow contrived and out of place.Does musical depth have to be regarded as sexy these days? Its a good example of how events get warped and mangled when it comes to postmortem accounts.
I would like to say the person I knew was basically uncomplicated, very direct, and warm hearted. I saw Jackie several times over the years, and even ten years later she remembered everything, laughed over shared experiences, and showed the poise she had at a very young age. Jackie had a fundamental sweetness that was disarming, and one felt she had natural confidence. As for her playing, there was this direct to the heartstrings intensity, a God given gift, and a gift of phrasing that few attain. It all seemed so natural, and just poured forth. I never quite liked the du Pre/Baremboim Duo, as he seemed to press her too much, not allowing her the type of sympathetic accompaniments that allowed her phrasing to blossom. She played really well with the then named Stephen Bishop, but this was at the start of her career.
One has few chances in life to be around a genius. Jackie was a genius, but a very down to earth one. Life treated her cruelly, but what she gave us in her brief life was a glimpse at pure talent direct from the Gods.
That summer we all went to Zermatt, Switzerland to the Pablo Casals Masterclasses. During three weeks of intensive work I was able to hear Jackie several times during her classes with Casals.Although there were individual courses in strings,voice, opera studio and chamber music with piano, everyone spent the morning with Casals as he gave lessons to a large group of cellists. My guess is that Jackie was about 15 at this time. Casals was clearly taken with her, but there were a couple of older cellists of some statue there that summer, and she was not chosen for the final concert, which was a mixture of cello, voice, opera studio, and piano. I remember her playing a Boccherini Concerto with great poise and warmth of sound. Casals signed a photograph of the two of them, putting the word "talent" over her head with an arrow pointing towards her. A charming touch from a dear man who always had kind words for everyone, but who was also tough, tough, tough.
Jackie came to hear me play, along with her mother and sister, at the Fulbright Commission on South Audley Street. I remember Christina Mason carefully turning down the pages of my Schubert Sonata in B Flat, Op.posth. She seemed starled when I said I was playing it from memory! Jack Glatzer also played the Brahms G Major Sonata with me, so it was a real reunion from Zermatt.
When I read comments about Jackie today, by all and sundry, I am always struck by my own personal thoughts about her, and the hype and fantasy scenario we have today about her life and music. Just today I read an article in The Telegraph about the current proms season, expecially about Tasmin Little playing the Elgar Violin Concerto. The writer followed with a description of Jackie playing the Elgar Cello Conerto, the work most identified with her.. then and now. He said, referring to a clip of her playing, that there was this sexual energy in her playing, and launched into a rather too personal account of her marriage to Daniel Barenboim, his many romantic adventures, leaving me with the feeling that all this was somehow contrived and out of place.Does musical depth have to be regarded as sexy these days? Its a good example of how events get warped and mangled when it comes to postmortem accounts.
I would like to say the person I knew was basically uncomplicated, very direct, and warm hearted. I saw Jackie several times over the years, and even ten years later she remembered everything, laughed over shared experiences, and showed the poise she had at a very young age. Jackie had a fundamental sweetness that was disarming, and one felt she had natural confidence. As for her playing, there was this direct to the heartstrings intensity, a God given gift, and a gift of phrasing that few attain. It all seemed so natural, and just poured forth. I never quite liked the du Pre/Baremboim Duo, as he seemed to press her too much, not allowing her the type of sympathetic accompaniments that allowed her phrasing to blossom. She played really well with the then named Stephen Bishop, but this was at the start of her career.
One has few chances in life to be around a genius. Jackie was a genius, but a very down to earth one. Life treated her cruelly, but what she gave us in her brief life was a glimpse at pure talent direct from the Gods.
Monday, May 30, 2011
A Return to Holland...after 35 years!
Attending a dear friends 95th birthday was a great excuse to return to a country I fell in love with as a student in the late 1950's and early 60's. My first impression still remains vivid...that of seeing spotless white curtains hanging in picture perfect windows, pots of flowers on the sills. That image seemed to capture the basic stillness that is a remarkable trait of Dutch life. Tightly packed cities mean closely packed apartments, and life has many moments spent indoors. But the typical Dutch living room is still very much the same: comfortable chairs drawn up in a circle, places for books and coffee cups, and plants on the sills, desk, and table. Vermeer likes to show oriental rugs as table covers, and this is still a favorite, although the rugs are thin, so drape elegantly. Coffee seems to be a passion like it has always been. The Dutch must grind the coffee, filter it slowly, so that the waiting around for the first cup is an equisite pleasure.
The stillness pervades everywhere. Villages abound in cottages with beautiful small gardens, metticulously maintained. This May there were elegant rhododendrums of every shade, all in perfect bloom. I was lucky, as the week before mine had bloomed in Hopkins, and were equally wonderful this year. The many parks and canals add their own quality of life, and I still find the tree lined canals places of poetry and nostalgia. Sitting with friends on a Sunday morning having brunch at a sidewalk table, we watched a slow parade of bicycles, many tamdems for two, draw by and fade in the distance, like silent ships. Once in a while a motorcycle wound go by, bringing the stillness to a halt, but even these riders tried not to stick out too much. It seems we were viewing riders taking a circle tour of seven villages, a Sunday tradition.
My friend's apartment looked out over the center or Eindhoven, which was bombed relentlessly in the final days of WWII. A lazy town river flows by her second floor terrase. We floated in and out for four days, celebrating a long life filled with great happiness, but also dark moments of war. The Dutch speak of eating tulip bulbs when there was no food. They laugh about it, but underneath is the resolve that saw them through.
The celebration party was a work of art, held inside and out at a lovely restaurant inside a beautiful park. Everyone was in long dresses and black tie, adding that touch that the hostess preferred. It was like a panorama of life, brief connections with one's past, filtered through many years of living.
The stillness pervades everywhere. Villages abound in cottages with beautiful small gardens, metticulously maintained. This May there were elegant rhododendrums of every shade, all in perfect bloom. I was lucky, as the week before mine had bloomed in Hopkins, and were equally wonderful this year. The many parks and canals add their own quality of life, and I still find the tree lined canals places of poetry and nostalgia. Sitting with friends on a Sunday morning having brunch at a sidewalk table, we watched a slow parade of bicycles, many tamdems for two, draw by and fade in the distance, like silent ships. Once in a while a motorcycle wound go by, bringing the stillness to a halt, but even these riders tried not to stick out too much. It seems we were viewing riders taking a circle tour of seven villages, a Sunday tradition.
My friend's apartment looked out over the center or Eindhoven, which was bombed relentlessly in the final days of WWII. A lazy town river flows by her second floor terrase. We floated in and out for four days, celebrating a long life filled with great happiness, but also dark moments of war. The Dutch speak of eating tulip bulbs when there was no food. They laugh about it, but underneath is the resolve that saw them through.
The celebration party was a work of art, held inside and out at a lovely restaurant inside a beautiful park. Everyone was in long dresses and black tie, adding that touch that the hostess preferred. It was like a panorama of life, brief connections with one's past, filtered through many years of living.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Suddenly It's May
We had a beautiful, long Spring, with a few detours along the way, especially from violent storms, bringing high winds, hail, and pounding rain. A new roof, by way of State Farm, got baptised immediately, but it held firm and there were no surprises. It seems I stayed home for weeks, and I took advantage of the time to work on new repertoire. This summer I will be a presenter at the Alabama MTA Convention, and also teach at the South Eastern Piano Festival at USC. We auditioned some great pianists, and I think it will be a treat for all of us. Then in July its back to London (where I have just been for two weeks) to play for the Bosendorfer Piano Series in Regents Park on July 27. It will be Brahms, Schubert, Debussy, and the Great Themes from Movies of the Forties, including the Warsaw Concerto of Richard Addinsell. A couple of Piano Portraits in Charleston in September are on the horizon, and also I will perform on the September Concerts for the first time since I retired.
I have been learning the transcription by Lucien Garban of Debussy's great symphonice work, "La Mer". It is a most interesting transcription, quite pianistic, and sounds lovely on the piano. It is full of notes, but it is not overwhelming in difficulty. I do have the advantage of having performed all of Debussy's piano music, so I see many correlations and similarities. I would say keeping the line moving forward and constanly varying the color and voicing are things one has to master. It will be interesting to see how people react. I have taken most of the tremeloes out, not wanting to sound like a silent movie piano player! Actually, I find it is very engrossing, and I am amazed at how Debussy composed this work. It is much more complex than one would think, as when we listen to it on recordings it seems to float by. The challenge is to the EAR more than the fingers. The harmonic changes are often veiled, hidden away in the texture in such as way as to always sounds like you never heard then before each time you come to them!. He has the ability to come up with fascinating choices, usually ones you would not suspect. His technic of composing is that of constant variation, one section evolving out of another in this incredibly fluent stream of sound. One always thinks Impressionism is vague, formless, and full of mist. That is all a put-up-job. It is as highly constructed as Beethoven or Mozart, and has all the mastery of counterpoint (with some novel twists) found in Bach.
A recent visit to London found everyone recovering from two 4 days weekends, and social calendars were all mixed up. The Wedding entralled the nation, and was an enormous pick me up for a public terribly put upon by inflation, difficult job market, and loss of benefits. Sound familiar? I avoided the central areas, and instead visited friends in the suburbs, going around by bus. It was a great visit, and I always leave with regret. The consolation is when I get home, I am so comfortable and it is so beautiful, I wonder why I left in the first place!
I have been learning the transcription by Lucien Garban of Debussy's great symphonice work, "La Mer". It is a most interesting transcription, quite pianistic, and sounds lovely on the piano. It is full of notes, but it is not overwhelming in difficulty. I do have the advantage of having performed all of Debussy's piano music, so I see many correlations and similarities. I would say keeping the line moving forward and constanly varying the color and voicing are things one has to master. It will be interesting to see how people react. I have taken most of the tremeloes out, not wanting to sound like a silent movie piano player! Actually, I find it is very engrossing, and I am amazed at how Debussy composed this work. It is much more complex than one would think, as when we listen to it on recordings it seems to float by. The challenge is to the EAR more than the fingers. The harmonic changes are often veiled, hidden away in the texture in such as way as to always sounds like you never heard then before each time you come to them!. He has the ability to come up with fascinating choices, usually ones you would not suspect. His technic of composing is that of constant variation, one section evolving out of another in this incredibly fluent stream of sound. One always thinks Impressionism is vague, formless, and full of mist. That is all a put-up-job. It is as highly constructed as Beethoven or Mozart, and has all the mastery of counterpoint (with some novel twists) found in Bach.
A recent visit to London found everyone recovering from two 4 days weekends, and social calendars were all mixed up. The Wedding entralled the nation, and was an enormous pick me up for a public terribly put upon by inflation, difficult job market, and loss of benefits. Sound familiar? I avoided the central areas, and instead visited friends in the suburbs, going around by bus. It was a great visit, and I always leave with regret. The consolation is when I get home, I am so comfortable and it is so beautiful, I wonder why I left in the first place!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Rustles of Spring
A very unusual, cold and damp Winter is slowly giving way to Spring. It is happening swiftly, as it often does in these climes. In just a few days camellias that have sat for months suddenly burst into bloom. Some of the ones that rarely have more than a few blooms seems to be especially enthusiastic this year. I have one called Professor Sargent, a favorite of my father when we lived in Alabama. It is crimson, with a carnation like center, surrounded by single petals. A rhododendrum nearby is almost the same color, and it is called Nova Zembla. It has led many lives, either in robust health, or slowly fading away. It should be called Nova Vita, since it roots easily if a branch get covered up. I saw it struggling away at Callaway Gardens, the same year mine was rampant with bloom.
Flowering quince is always a joy, and this year it came out very slowly, and is now full of bloom. I noticed it planted along Leesburg Road, just as it starts past the Vets Hospital. It was interplanted with small firs, and looked stunning. A sign just there says "Welcome to the Lower Richland Community". It always make me smile, as if we are a lost part of the Midlands (which suits all of us just fine).
My pansies didn't thrive in the snow and ice, so now I have replanted, mostly from the "give away section" at Lowes. There is something satisfying about rescue. From a point of last hope, you revive and make useful. Teaching taught me alot about that. I had some students show up from poor experiences elsewhere, and I always made a point of saying I was their Last Hope. Do What I Say, and Show Up Faithfully. That is always a good recipe.
So now I am waiting for the tulips, which I plant in pots to discourage the moles and squirrels. They don't last long, but they are so majestic, and have unearthly colors. Just a few in clumps here and there can make a fiesta out of your garden.
Flowering quince is always a joy, and this year it came out very slowly, and is now full of bloom. I noticed it planted along Leesburg Road, just as it starts past the Vets Hospital. It was interplanted with small firs, and looked stunning. A sign just there says "Welcome to the Lower Richland Community". It always make me smile, as if we are a lost part of the Midlands (which suits all of us just fine).
My pansies didn't thrive in the snow and ice, so now I have replanted, mostly from the "give away section" at Lowes. There is something satisfying about rescue. From a point of last hope, you revive and make useful. Teaching taught me alot about that. I had some students show up from poor experiences elsewhere, and I always made a point of saying I was their Last Hope. Do What I Say, and Show Up Faithfully. That is always a good recipe.
So now I am waiting for the tulips, which I plant in pots to discourage the moles and squirrels. They don't last long, but they are so majestic, and have unearthly colors. Just a few in clumps here and there can make a fiesta out of your garden.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
More Pages to Turn....
Issac Stern, Violinist
Issac Stern was at his peak when he played a recital in Township Auditorium in the 1980's. I was priviledged to not only turn his pages, but also to have a modest conversation with him backstage. He struck me as totally approachable, funny, and full of energy. I remember his signing my program for me, and when he asked my name, I said John Adams. He laughed and said, "Oh yea, well I'm Thomas Jefferson." I noticed his violin case in the dressing room, and on the inside of the lid was a virtual family album of photographs. The program included the Enescu Sonata for Violin and Piano, a nod towards his association with that great composer and violinist. The score was in manuscript, and the pianist warned me that there were several cuts. I had to look carefully to find small red dots, and when I saw one,turn the page and look for the next red dot. Now that would have been fine with a rehearsal, but having to do this without one, and in front of hundreds of people was nerve wracking. The pianist, whom I have forgotten....(I must look it up)..was very complimentary afterwards, and signed my program along with Stern. Issac Stern was born in 1920, so he would have been in his sixties when I met up with him. He was a class act to say the least.
Leontyne Price, Soprano
Leontyne Price sang at least three times in Columbia, and the final concert at Township Auditorium was in the mid 1980's. The most vivid memory I have is arriving early for the concert, and standing backstage waiting for Miss Price and David Garvey, her pianist, to arrive. Someone was rattling the sidedoor, and I went to let them in. A very short lady in boots and a fur hat, very Russian, came in, looking rather lost. I said "Can I help you" and Madame said, "Oh no, I know exactly where to go". Of course, I was expecting a tall, regal appearance, but in street clothes, overcoat and hat, she looked quite ordinary. I was stunned, to say the least, as she always struck me as very tall from the stage. Not the first time I have been fooled with that, as great artists have a way of making themselves appear larger than life. Or, perhaps, we do that unconsciously! She wanted to try the stage right away, so out we went, with a scattering of applause from the few souls already seated. She tried a few passages, turned and smiled, and that was it. She had a habit of touching the curtain when she walked out on stage...rather a flick of the wrist sort of thing...and I realized this was a good luck ritual for her. As I knew so many of the pieces from playing them myself, I was able to watch her a great deal. It would seem to me that she had the most relaxed vocal technique possible. She always sang "Pace, Pace, Mio Dio" from Verdi's "La Forza del Destino", and so I waited for that wonderful B Blat. It seemed to come out of space, perfectly formed, and the most beauriful sound imaginable. She was totally removed backstage, lost in thought, and unapproachable. She had a small table with all her encores spread out. After the first encore she suddenly said to me..."Pick one out!" I almost fainted. For the life of me, I can't remember what it was! Afterwards in the dressing room, she was so so lovely to me, and signed my program with a short greeting, and also a beautiful photograph of her. A Magical Evening.
A diversion...
Alicia De Larrocha, pianist
De Larrocha played twice in Columbia, and both times she practiced in my studio in the old music building, McMaster School. She was very small, but had powerful shoulders and hands. I remember going with Leon Harrelson to meet her at the airport, and she arrived carrying not one, but two music cases. Right then and there you knew you were in the presence of a world class artist, with dozens of concerts on her schedule. After her concert, I was invited to a small supper party, and she was very amusing. Learning I was soon to play with orchestra, she remarked'"I hope you have a good conductor...there are many bad ones!" The second visit was in the 1980's, and this time she noticed a picture of herself on my studio wall. When I went back stage after her concert, she handed me a new photograph of herself, saying "This one is much nicer!" She seemed in some ways the opposite of what one might expect in so great an artist. She was folksy, down to earth, and direct. I always found her playing to reflect those qualities, plus a seemless technique and exqusite polish. I heard her with the National Symphony some weeks later, over the air, playing the Schumann Concerto. In the last movement, during that famous syncopated rhythm, the conductor faltered. Not Alica..she remained steady as a rock and brought it all to a magnificent conclusion. A real professional and a wonderful person.
Issac Stern was at his peak when he played a recital in Township Auditorium in the 1980's. I was priviledged to not only turn his pages, but also to have a modest conversation with him backstage. He struck me as totally approachable, funny, and full of energy. I remember his signing my program for me, and when he asked my name, I said John Adams. He laughed and said, "Oh yea, well I'm Thomas Jefferson." I noticed his violin case in the dressing room, and on the inside of the lid was a virtual family album of photographs. The program included the Enescu Sonata for Violin and Piano, a nod towards his association with that great composer and violinist. The score was in manuscript, and the pianist warned me that there were several cuts. I had to look carefully to find small red dots, and when I saw one,turn the page and look for the next red dot. Now that would have been fine with a rehearsal, but having to do this without one, and in front of hundreds of people was nerve wracking. The pianist, whom I have forgotten....(I must look it up)..was very complimentary afterwards, and signed my program along with Stern. Issac Stern was born in 1920, so he would have been in his sixties when I met up with him. He was a class act to say the least.
Leontyne Price, Soprano
Leontyne Price sang at least three times in Columbia, and the final concert at Township Auditorium was in the mid 1980's. The most vivid memory I have is arriving early for the concert, and standing backstage waiting for Miss Price and David Garvey, her pianist, to arrive. Someone was rattling the sidedoor, and I went to let them in. A very short lady in boots and a fur hat, very Russian, came in, looking rather lost. I said "Can I help you" and Madame said, "Oh no, I know exactly where to go". Of course, I was expecting a tall, regal appearance, but in street clothes, overcoat and hat, she looked quite ordinary. I was stunned, to say the least, as she always struck me as very tall from the stage. Not the first time I have been fooled with that, as great artists have a way of making themselves appear larger than life. Or, perhaps, we do that unconsciously! She wanted to try the stage right away, so out we went, with a scattering of applause from the few souls already seated. She tried a few passages, turned and smiled, and that was it. She had a habit of touching the curtain when she walked out on stage...rather a flick of the wrist sort of thing...and I realized this was a good luck ritual for her. As I knew so many of the pieces from playing them myself, I was able to watch her a great deal. It would seem to me that she had the most relaxed vocal technique possible. She always sang "Pace, Pace, Mio Dio" from Verdi's "La Forza del Destino", and so I waited for that wonderful B Blat. It seemed to come out of space, perfectly formed, and the most beauriful sound imaginable. She was totally removed backstage, lost in thought, and unapproachable. She had a small table with all her encores spread out. After the first encore she suddenly said to me..."Pick one out!" I almost fainted. For the life of me, I can't remember what it was! Afterwards in the dressing room, she was so so lovely to me, and signed my program with a short greeting, and also a beautiful photograph of her. A Magical Evening.
A diversion...
Alicia De Larrocha, pianist
De Larrocha played twice in Columbia, and both times she practiced in my studio in the old music building, McMaster School. She was very small, but had powerful shoulders and hands. I remember going with Leon Harrelson to meet her at the airport, and she arrived carrying not one, but two music cases. Right then and there you knew you were in the presence of a world class artist, with dozens of concerts on her schedule. After her concert, I was invited to a small supper party, and she was very amusing. Learning I was soon to play with orchestra, she remarked'"I hope you have a good conductor...there are many bad ones!" The second visit was in the 1980's, and this time she noticed a picture of herself on my studio wall. When I went back stage after her concert, she handed me a new photograph of herself, saying "This one is much nicer!" She seemed in some ways the opposite of what one might expect in so great an artist. She was folksy, down to earth, and direct. I always found her playing to reflect those qualities, plus a seemless technique and exqusite polish. I heard her with the National Symphony some weeks later, over the air, playing the Schumann Concerto. In the last movement, during that famous syncopated rhythm, the conductor faltered. Not Alica..she remained steady as a rock and brought it all to a magnificent conclusion. A real professional and a wonderful person.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Some Pages I Have Turned....!
Beginning in my late teens in Kansas City, I had the opportunity to turn pages at concerts for some of the greatest musicians. I just sort of fell into this, but was given a big push forward by Ruth Seufert, who ran the biggest artist series in town. I started out as an usher in the Music Hall, learning all the different seating patterns in that large space. An emergency arose, and I made my page turning debut with vioinist Misha Elman at the last minute. What follows are some rememberances of some of these artists, some of whom I remember more for their artistry than for any personal contact. But a few had real charm, and they stand out for that reason.
Misha Elman, violinist.
Elman would have been in his 60's when I heard him, and I remember his beautiful manners and stage presence. He was born in Kiev in 1891, and was one of the most famous pupils of Leopold Auer, a celebrated master teacher. His playing was quite bold and full of romantic performance traits, many of which are out of style at this time. I wore my Phi Mu Alpha pin everywhere in those days, and I remember his telling me that he was also a proud member! The audience loved him, and they often heard him on the radio. He played the famous "Meditation" from "Thais" as an encore, and you can hear it on his page in Wikipedia.
Shirley Verrett, mezzo soprano
Miss Verrett ( at the time Verrett-Carter ) was the winner of the National Federation of Music Clubs Young Artist Award, and I turned pages for her during the finals in Kansas City. She was accompanied by a very young Charles Wadsworth, and of course I always reminded him of that in later years. I remember the ease of her technique, and the great showmanship....perhaps I should say Star Power, for she went on to a great career. By this time she had already had some important concerts, but she really took off in the early 1960's. She gave a meltingly liquid rendition of the "Habanera" from "Carmen" that I can still hear in my inner ear fifty years later. I had already heard Charles at Yale, when he played for Elaine Ritchie, who had just won the Naumberg Award, and gave an informal recital in the Yale Glee Club rehearsal room. Shirley Verrett died just a few weeks ago, followed by magnificent tributes far and wide.
Mack Harrell, baritone
While a student at Aspen Music School I turned pages for Mack Harrell, who was joined by my teacher, pianist Joanna Graudan ,for a performance of "Dicterliebe" by Schumann. I had been fascinated all that summer session with Mack Harrell and Phyliss Curtin, who were rehearsing for the New York City premiere of Carlyle Floyd's opera "Susannah". They had already done it at Florida State University, where Floyd was on the faculty. I had already heard Mack several times in Kansas City, where he joined Carl Friedberg and Conrad Bos for several summer masterclasses in the late 1040's, early 50's. He was slight of statue, and had been a violinist who suddenly discovered his singing voice while a student at Curtis. He was probably as great a recitalist as any singer I had heard. His sound was like bunished bronze, with a very sensuous overtone. His German diction was perfection. A great singer, and incidentally, the father of cellist Lynn Harrell....who was about 10 years old at the time I knew him. The funny bit was that Phyliss Curtin had started as a violinist also, so the two were well matched.
Birgit Nilsson, soprano
Again, a last minute emergency sent me to the aid of this magnificent artist, who gave a spellbinding performance in Austin, Texas in the early 1960's, while I was on the piano faculty there. Her pianist was Leo Taubman, and he met me backstage, where I could hear Birgit warming up in her dressing room. She sounded like she was right beside us, but there was a heavy door between. He insisted I meet her first, and then we could get down to business. She swept on stage, and plunged into
"Dich Teure Halle". I looked up and saw this vast amount of spray come out of her mouth, and several people in the front row moved back. (She was sucking on a cough drop before she went on stage, wrapped it in her handkerchief, and handed it to me!)
What I remember particularly was a set of songs by Sibelius, which she characterized to great degree. I also noticed how she had this incredible sense of phrasing..knowing just how to make the music flow in a most natural way. She was very free, but also very disciplined at the same time. She was brought to the concert by a young Swedish guy, who had covered his car with flowers for the ride (in a rather beat up old car). She was so giving, and the audience loved her. At the end she came around the piano, took my hand, and had me bow with her and Leo for the final turn. She gave me several photos, all of which disappeared during the move to South Carolina.
A digression....
The Stars of the Music World had a quite different progress in those days, almost always arriving by train. They usually showed up at least the day before their concerts, and sometimes stayed several days. I remember the endless photos in the newspaper, some of which could be quite inventive. Lily Pons, the reigning coloratura of her time, was photographed on the rail platform holding a lease with a leapord at the other end. How they managed that shot remains a mystery, but I imagined at least four men with guns and whips standing behind the photographer. She was barely five feet tall, and appeared much taller on stage, because of clever touches, such as a small crown on her head, and a long train sweeping behind her. She demanded a white canvas runner from the wings to the center of the stage, and made an entrace fit for a queen. Her recital always featured a flutist in tow, so she could do the cadenzas to the Mad Scene from "Lucia di Lammermoor" in more authenic fashion. She invariably sang pieces about larks, and the flute was a necessary addition here as well.
TO BE CONTINUED>
Misha Elman, violinist.
Elman would have been in his 60's when I heard him, and I remember his beautiful manners and stage presence. He was born in Kiev in 1891, and was one of the most famous pupils of Leopold Auer, a celebrated master teacher. His playing was quite bold and full of romantic performance traits, many of which are out of style at this time. I wore my Phi Mu Alpha pin everywhere in those days, and I remember his telling me that he was also a proud member! The audience loved him, and they often heard him on the radio. He played the famous "Meditation" from "Thais" as an encore, and you can hear it on his page in Wikipedia.
Shirley Verrett, mezzo soprano
Miss Verrett ( at the time Verrett-Carter ) was the winner of the National Federation of Music Clubs Young Artist Award, and I turned pages for her during the finals in Kansas City. She was accompanied by a very young Charles Wadsworth, and of course I always reminded him of that in later years. I remember the ease of her technique, and the great showmanship....perhaps I should say Star Power, for she went on to a great career. By this time she had already had some important concerts, but she really took off in the early 1960's. She gave a meltingly liquid rendition of the "Habanera" from "Carmen" that I can still hear in my inner ear fifty years later. I had already heard Charles at Yale, when he played for Elaine Ritchie, who had just won the Naumberg Award, and gave an informal recital in the Yale Glee Club rehearsal room. Shirley Verrett died just a few weeks ago, followed by magnificent tributes far and wide.
Mack Harrell, baritone
While a student at Aspen Music School I turned pages for Mack Harrell, who was joined by my teacher, pianist Joanna Graudan ,for a performance of "Dicterliebe" by Schumann. I had been fascinated all that summer session with Mack Harrell and Phyliss Curtin, who were rehearsing for the New York City premiere of Carlyle Floyd's opera "Susannah". They had already done it at Florida State University, where Floyd was on the faculty. I had already heard Mack several times in Kansas City, where he joined Carl Friedberg and Conrad Bos for several summer masterclasses in the late 1040's, early 50's. He was slight of statue, and had been a violinist who suddenly discovered his singing voice while a student at Curtis. He was probably as great a recitalist as any singer I had heard. His sound was like bunished bronze, with a very sensuous overtone. His German diction was perfection. A great singer, and incidentally, the father of cellist Lynn Harrell....who was about 10 years old at the time I knew him. The funny bit was that Phyliss Curtin had started as a violinist also, so the two were well matched.
Birgit Nilsson, soprano
Again, a last minute emergency sent me to the aid of this magnificent artist, who gave a spellbinding performance in Austin, Texas in the early 1960's, while I was on the piano faculty there. Her pianist was Leo Taubman, and he met me backstage, where I could hear Birgit warming up in her dressing room. She sounded like she was right beside us, but there was a heavy door between. He insisted I meet her first, and then we could get down to business. She swept on stage, and plunged into
"Dich Teure Halle". I looked up and saw this vast amount of spray come out of her mouth, and several people in the front row moved back. (She was sucking on a cough drop before she went on stage, wrapped it in her handkerchief, and handed it to me!)
What I remember particularly was a set of songs by Sibelius, which she characterized to great degree. I also noticed how she had this incredible sense of phrasing..knowing just how to make the music flow in a most natural way. She was very free, but also very disciplined at the same time. She was brought to the concert by a young Swedish guy, who had covered his car with flowers for the ride (in a rather beat up old car). She was so giving, and the audience loved her. At the end she came around the piano, took my hand, and had me bow with her and Leo for the final turn. She gave me several photos, all of which disappeared during the move to South Carolina.
A digression....
The Stars of the Music World had a quite different progress in those days, almost always arriving by train. They usually showed up at least the day before their concerts, and sometimes stayed several days. I remember the endless photos in the newspaper, some of which could be quite inventive. Lily Pons, the reigning coloratura of her time, was photographed on the rail platform holding a lease with a leapord at the other end. How they managed that shot remains a mystery, but I imagined at least four men with guns and whips standing behind the photographer. She was barely five feet tall, and appeared much taller on stage, because of clever touches, such as a small crown on her head, and a long train sweeping behind her. She demanded a white canvas runner from the wings to the center of the stage, and made an entrace fit for a queen. Her recital always featured a flutist in tow, so she could do the cadenzas to the Mad Scene from "Lucia di Lammermoor" in more authenic fashion. She invariably sang pieces about larks, and the flute was a necessary addition here as well.
TO BE CONTINUED>
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