"And the rains came..."

Summer is ending at last, possibly the hottest summer I can remember in South Carolina. Part of that feeling is the fact I did not go to Switzerland this September, the first time in 13 years. Certainly many changes have come about in this country which straddles the Alps for most of its course. Prosperity is booming, and thanks to the Japanese, the tourist trade is as active as possible. The Japanese have it all down to a system. I had a charming Japanese student who shared with me his travel book, published in Japan for the benefit of its citizens heading to the wonders of Europe. It was timed to the minute, including rail, bus and plane schedules. For instance, he was only in Milan for one morning, long enough to see "The Last Supper" and have a quick meal at the rail station. The "Leaning Tower of Pisa" was also fitted into a half day slot, but a full day was allowed in Firenze, and two days in Rome. He saw everything listed for Italy at breathtaking speed. Zermatt is the end of the Glacier Express that takes tourists from San Moritz to Zermatt at a snail's pace, so Japanese usually stay at least two nights in Zermatt. I use to wake up very early and step onto my balcony. I would time the interval before I saw a Japanese tourist come around the corner by the church. It was always less that a minute.

SO, no Switzerland this year, but lots of home and hearth. The garden looks beauriful, and the house is spotless. It doesn't stay that way long, but its nice to admire one's efforts. The leaves will fall early this year, a month with no rain will assure that. The nut crop was meager, and the squirrels are still digging up last years crop. Perhaps they will have to migrate towards more food.

The best part of the summer was being able to work undisturbed on a wide variety of repertoire. Certainly I learn more slowly now, but far more carefully. Everything is about economy...economy of energy, gesture, and even emotion. I was once told as a young man that I should learn to practice unemotionally. I thought the professor was mad. Now I realize he was right. Nadia Boulanger, that great teacher of so many of our best composers of the last century, said it the right way. "You have no right to appeal to the emotions until the intellect has been throughly satisfied." Think of the one million applications one could find for this gem.

So now it is finally raining, lots of gentle rain that soaks into the soil. In just a day everything is transformed. Looking at the woods this afternoon I relaxed 100 degrees, knowing I would not have to worry about fire dangers for a while, and thankful all the trees were having a big drink. Hopefully it will be a kind winter season.

Pears are Falling, Peaches are Finished.

My neighbor has a Kieffer pear tree that is getting old like me. This year the pears are small, but have a lot of sugar content. Picking a few today, I felt that special tug that Autumn presents, an age old instinct of gathering, preserving and feeling thankful for the small things in life. Not that food gathering is a small thing. Imagine how in times past the preservation and storing of food was a thing of life or death.

My mother was raised on a wheat farm in Oklahoma, and she had a no nonsense approach to food. Our table was not laden, but it was lovingly prepared food that always had a careful hand behind it. She often spoke of the harvest lunches she helped prepare for the horde of men working to get the grain cut and stored. Homemade rolls and bread, many kinds of pies, and several types of meat. They had a spring house, which I once saw when very young, cut into the hillside where the spring flowed. It was so cool inside, and ice could be stored, as well as butter, milk, and cream. I wish I could have sat at that table, but I did experience great meals when we went to visit our grandparents. My grandmother baked bread every other day, and the smell was intoxicating. Death to anyone trying to bounce on the kitchen floor when it was in the oven. As kids we learned to avoid the kitchen unless invited in. Mother never learned how to bake bread, as her mother didn't want her to learn, expecting her to work on being a professional lady. She really was raised almost as a princess, and so Southern girls are not the only ones so anointed. She studied singing and posed for a local photographer who took art studies. I have one of her standing with her back to the camera, an oriental shawl draped over her shoulder. In another she is done up as an Oriental girl, hold a vase up to admire. In another, she could pass for Zelda. Willa Cather spoke alot of truth about art and growing up in Oklahoma, Nebraska and Kansas. "The Song of the Lark" catches shades of my mother is a riveting way.

Getting back to the pears. I made two pints of preserves, one for me, and one for a brother-in-law who always asks every year for some. As I reached up in the branches today, having to stretch to reach the best ones....(the best are always hard to get)...I caught a glimpse of the golden fruit against the brilliant blue of the September sky. Blue and gold..always a satisfying mix.

Notes from a recital in London with yours truly.

A request to give a short recital from an old friend from student days in London found me in Hammersmith, just west of central London. Brook Green is an area tucked away beside a long narrow park, around which abound old studios built as artist's ateliers back in the 19th century. I played in Applegarth Studio, a fabulous space with two grand pianos, one a Steinway of years but great distinction, and the other a Boesendorfer that Liszt performed on in London. I chose the Steinway, as the ghost of Liszt was a bit daunting. I have been performing the first movement of the great Fantasy of Schumann this Spring,and for once I was satisfied. It takes so much tension, physically and musically, to bring this off. It was an outstandingly warm evening for London, but I played and did not notice the heat or anything else. I think living in South Carolina gives us a special stamina when it comes to heat. I also played a group of Chopin, and also some Preludes of Debussy. I ended with three songs of Jerome Kern, which I arranged very much in the style of the times when they were written. We hear these great songs so pulled about today as regards to phrasing and rhythm, it is perhaps a shock to hear the simple four square rhythms done in a straight forward manner. To play for Londoners is daunting, as they hear everyone, and often one still runs across older people who remember quite a few of the Immortals as well. One man came forward to tell me he had just heard the Fantasy at Snape Maltings (Aldeburgh Festival founded by Benjamin Britten) and mine was much more profound. Well, I have played for 60 years and no one has ever said my playing was profound! He then suggested I come back and play an all Debussy program next season. What a surprise and such an unexpected consequence.

London and the Season: Netrebko and Grigolo

When you read about London ,you sometimes come across comments about The Season, that period in late May and all of June, when London comes alive with social activities. It all sounds a bit Edwardian in this day and age, but it still goes on today and is centered around the races at Ascot, crew races at Hendley, and of course tennis at Winbledon. There is also a very fine short opera season at Covent Garden, and last Sunday I heard a the debut of a great new tenor. His name is Vittorio Grigolo. a very handsome 32 year old from Arezzo, Italy. I was pleased to read he was from Arezzo, as that is the neighboring city to Cortona, where USC had a wonderful opera program for a number of years. Also, it is the birthplace of Guido of Arezzo...remember Guido's Hand from music theory class! (he is the father of modern music notation). Grigolo stunned the audience as Des Grieux in "Manon" by Massenet, first of all as he was virtually unknown, and what was known was that he writes popular Italian lovesongs very successfully, and of course records them. His Manon was no less than Anna Netrebko, the hottest ticket in opera in Europe. I went with some misgivings, as the times I have heard her I felt she was very uneven, with a sometimes sloppy regard for accuracy and rhythm. The fact that she is drop-dead beautiful and you can't take eyes away from her on stage, such is her charsima, is a given. In this role she was magnificent, and she had cleaned up her musicianship to an entirely new level. She literally threw herself into this role, where she begins as a 16 year old off to a convent school, continues on as a runaway to be with her first love, abandons him to become the mistress of the wealthiest man in Paris, gambles away everything in a casino and ends up dying in the gutter. Fabulous role! As for Grigolo,he plays the ardent young rich boy gone wrong to the hilt. He was by terns lovestruck, petulant, hysterical, repentant,and at the end, heartbroken by his own willfulness. Fabulous role! To say we were all swept away is an understatement.I continue to be impressed with Antonio Pappano, the wonderful music director of Covent Garden, who has lifted everything up tremendously. Can you believe a first class seat at Covent Garden runs to about 350. these days. Considering all else, and the limited time I have to experience these treats, its worth every penny.

A Hidden World in London ....

Hidden away from the main throughfares like Piccadilly, Park Lane,and Oxford Street, are small pockets of neighborhoods where you can still feel connected in a vast, booming city like London. It doesn't take long to remember familiar faces in the post office, the sandwich shops, or be greeted by the doorman at the Ritz. The Over Seas League in St. James, where I stay while in London, is on Park Place, a deadend street that backs up to Green Park. On St. James Place, the next street over, one finds the plaque to Frederic Chopin, who stayed here on his visit to London in 1849, the year of his death. He played his last recital in the Guildhall, in The City, where there is a handsome bust of him on display.

London must be the take-out food capitol of the world. The high class stuff comes from Fortnams, where the assortment of cheeses is endless, and the sandwiches have fresh baked bread for starts. The best sandwiches are made in the small shops that abound off the main streets, where you can make up choices as you order. Marks and Spencer has gone into take out food in a big way, opening small branches in tube stations. One never use to see people eating in the streets...now they eat everywhere, except the tube and busses, where it is just too crowded.

The restaurants at the Over Seas League are just so fine that it is hard to go anywhere else. The Buttery is open all day into the evening, and has classic dishes like lamb curry and kedgeree, plus great grilled fish and interesting salads. The main restaurant is one of the better ones in London, and still has its 30's decor, and an incredible, well priced wine list. Then one can eat in the garden, sandwiches in the Spring, and hot food in the Summer.

London Transport has solved the ticket problem for tubes and buses by use of the Oyster Card, a small yellow card that you press against a meter that registers each use. You can put any amount of money into the card electronically, and many tube exit meters tell you how much money is left in the card. This means that traffic really flows through the various stations with no long ticket lines as of old. Getting transport information is so easy via the internet, and you can make your plans for excursions down to the minute.

Finding a place to practice usually means a ride on the C2 bus from Berkeley Square ( " a nightingale sang..in Berkeley Square" ) up to Albany Street in Regents Park. This is not "The Piano Shop Around the Corner" but a well run affair that does have a big shop for piano restoration and a few practice rooms. Its a casual affair, and cheap. I had lunch across the way in The Victory, a pub with a faded atmosphere, reminding me of pubs from fifty years ago. I ordered a ham and cheddar cheese, expectations running low. What arrived was served on a handsome white sqaure plate, and consisted of a huge sandwich of real cheddar on a wonderful Cornish loaf, rather like french bread but not as light. Also included was a serving of fresh coleslaw and another salad of greens, peppers, and tomatoes. All this, plus a pot ot tea, came to five pounds....aabout $8.50 at the current exchange. A steal...plus the fact the pub instantly rose in my appreciation to the status of a FIND. Dress down if you go.

Lessons From a Late Spring

There's a wonderful song..."Spring Will be a Little Late this Year" (Frank Loesser)..remember Ella and Sarah singing this! A photo on the State Newspaper web shows strange red flowers growing out of tree trunks in Peachtree Rock Preserve. The writer notes that lichens and moss are at record levels this Spring, due to the long,wet,dark and cold winter we experienced. Now imagine my surprise to see this attraction right in my own yard. I have a wonderful rock that my mother picked up in Colorado...she was spotted stealing rocks in all the Western states....and it has a wonderful small hole in it that fills with water, making a great water attraction for the birds. It usually has a small coat of moss. This morning I noticed it was dark green all over, with the heaviest coat in years. The blazing sun on the past few days will take its toll, but for now it is such a beauty spot.I have been fascinated with my squirrels, who have spent days digging up all the nuts they buried last Fall. I made a prediction then that this would be a cold winter, and it proved right. How do they know where they are? All I know is that I don't have to wear those strange shoes with small nails protruding to aerate my lawn!! The squirrels have done it for me.

Which brings up the point that perhaps we do not pay enough attention to Mother Nature. She is trying to tell us things of great importance, but we are deaf in our worldly pursuits. While teaching at USC I was always aware of the beauty of our campus, a real refuge in a busy city, and filled with rare plants from our state and beyond. I would often talk to the gardeners, especially in the earlier days when many of them were still around after long years of working there. I remember the transplanting of the camellias from the yard of a well known professor. There were many rare examples, and I cringed at the thought of their survival, as camellias are loathed to be moved. They moved them, a huge task, to the front of the Administration Building, and then pruned them down to almost the ground. They struggled for years, but slowly regained their strength, and now they are fabulous, especially this Spring, which saw the most amaizing display of camellias in years.

If you walk around to the front of the McKissick Museum, you will note a large magnolia on the right side of the steps. Years ago...in the late 1960's, a Midnight Raid by Clemson before THE GAME made mincemeat of this tree. They tried to cut it down, but botched the job. One of the gardeners took what was left and nursed it back to health. It now has several trunks, and if you know the magnolia tree, that is very unusual. Everytime I look at it I remember the story in The Gamecock, and how offended the whole campus was.

So what is Mother Nature trying to say! I think it is obvious..."Take note and take care of me, and I will reward you with many lessons that will enrich your lives."

What about Schumann..?

Pianists are lucky when it comes to Robert Schumann, who left us a treasury of immortal works. We are lucky also because we have the challenge and necessity of unraveling the secrets embedded in his music, so as to come up with a sympathetic interpretation. His music is so bound up in his heightened imagination that it is neigh impossible to get near his "truth" without a great deal of reading, both his own writings and particularly works by Jean-Paul Richter, ETA Hoffmann, and various other German writers of his time.

I have long felt that Schumann is more for the pianist than for the general audience. He lacks the immediate charm of Chopin, and the more overt playful quality of Mendelssohn. What he does have, in large doses, is passion. It is a throughly Germanic type passion, that involves both the head and the heart. His tenderness is heart breaking at times, especially in Kreisleriana and the less played Humoresque. There is something always very noble about his melodic writing, made even more complex with the underlying counterpoint. One can just see Robert and Clara spending an evening playing Bach, absorbed in his counterpoint. We have to remember J S Bach was enjoying the great revival set in motion by Mendelssohn, and the impact on the Romantics was enormous.

Pressure must have been a daily double dose for Schumann, what with seven children to provide for. His output is big, even in spite of the detours of depression and illness. Clara certainly had her hands full. How on earth she continued her career with all these children and a demanding husband defies understanding. But, there must have been great love in that marriage. One feels it tremendously in the great Fantasy, Opus 17. Such originality of expression makes it a landmark in his compositions, and nowhere does he reveal himself more than in this work.

In this Bicentenial Year of Chopin and Schumann, perhaps Chopin is getting the greater play. That is understandable in light of Schumann's more complex nature and his more introverted half. But I feel he somehow is better off this way, making those who turn to his music work a little harder at getting to know him.

Schumann reveals his fatherly love in the Kinderszenen and the Album for the Young. What is revealing about both is that, for the greater part, they are not pieces for children at all, but an adults view of a child's world. They do reveal Schumann's great love of children and their imaginative play world...almost the same for him in adulthood, where he succeeds in creating a unique world of imagination, fantasy and passion.