"Quo Vadis?" -The Art of Piano Performance"

Curious title, curious frame of mind, curiosity killed the cat. I have more time these days to ponder weighty subjects, and I can think of nothing that matches my curiosity about piano performance today. I just read a few pages in a self-help book by a noted scholar of piano literature and performance practice. I had to put it down after a few pages, as I felt if I had to suffer like some people over performance anxieties, I would not even leave the house. It is such a luxury to share misery, but frankly, any misery connected to the piano is a very private affair. It never ceases to amaze how many pianists sit down at the piano bench, and instantly forget (or they never read) Tobias Matthay's most valuable suggestion: "Never sit down at the piano except to make music". What does this tell us? It tells us that everything we do at the piano should have some amount of framework, design, objective, purpose...you can add you own word. Exercises? These are the most challenging of all, as they demand our utmost discipline and unwavering attention. This is when we deal with craft, and craft is the basis of any art. The painter sizes his canvas while peering into the white void, his internal vision already alive with purpose. The writer looks at the blank page and suddenly writes a few words that soon open up into sentences and paragraphs. The ballet dancer works at the barre,yet if it is a good studio, music plays and each exercise builds towards the complete body/mind experience. The pianist must ease himself into his session, first determining what kind of session it might be. Just the thought that one might plan out the time might be news to many. What is your goal for today, tomorrow, the week, month, year....decade!! Are you starting all new pieces at the smae time, or, are you adding them slowly, so each work is at a different stage of development? How easy to be overwhelmed. Have you really thought about the musical and technical challenges of each work, so as to avoid having everything being a plunge for notes and organization? Buffets are fun, but eating at one every meal might make one soon turn off food in general. So the same is true for repertoire. Do you really enjoy sitting through programs that are more about the performer tackling one hurdle after another? Perhaps it never entered his head that the audience is usually the reason he is there, and they don't want a huge buffet. They want a balanced program, which means just that. On reading my words I think I might be still under the influence of The Victorian Age. On reflection, my early teachers were very much under this influence. We often think Victorians were stuffy, rather stifled people. But it amuses me that so many dramatic breakthroughs came just at the end of this age. Tobias Matthay made great insights into the whole process of learning, balancing scientific observations with equal amounts of common sense and instinct. Freud made his amazing journies into the psyche, and Stanislavsky made acting into something vital and timeless. Alexander made his bold discoveries about mind and body, so nobly illustrated recently in "The King's Speech", where his techniques were used to unlock the tongue of George VI. I grew up in an age when beautiful tone was the great challenge, as the Golden Age of Pianists had at it's core this wonderful aesthetic of sound. I heard many of the great practicioners of this art, including Rubenstein, Hess, Horowitz, plus many others through their recordings...especially Cortot and Gieseking. Each had a unique sound, but they all had this tonal art that was at the core of their music. I have a vivid memory of Carl Friedberg, then in his eighties, playing parts of the Brahms Concerto in B Flat Major. We had finished a lesson, and he was showing me some of his ideas. What struck me so stongly was the focus of his sound. It had weight, but it also had virility and strength. His fingers were deep in the keys, and everything was directed to the musical intent. He didn't wave around, fall around, or any of those things we see in abundance today. I just read a review in The Guardian of a recital by Yuja Wang in London last week. The critic was eager to say she had fantastic fingers that did everything she demanded with ease. What surprised him was the lack of depth in her playing, and the sound could become hard at times. She is very much a pianist of the moment, and she atrracts attention by dressing unconventionally for her public. Perhaps we are entering a whole new AGE. Its more about the package and the predictable results, than it is about the searching for soul and profond moments. I have grown very fussy in my advancing years, not wanting to be made to listen to speed and thrills. Years ago my teacher Frank Mannheimer sat through a performance of a Chopin Scherzo by a master class student, a performance so loud and fast it was almost unbearable. He smiled at the end and told the young man."A racecar could have not done it any faster". Luckily that young man grew into a fine and sensitive artist.

"I Slept with Margaret Thatcher!"

Now it can be told...after years of suppression and torment! I had taken my mother to the U.K. in 1982, just as the Falklands War was raging. Margaret was before the House of Commons every day, choreographing the latest news to fashion the best political adavantage. She was in full sail, just like Meryl Streep in the fascinating film making the rounds of late. I had arranged our London schedule so I could practice each morning, a concert looming on the horizon the last part of our stay. I pondered..."what will I do about mother all this time". Little should I have worried. She was galvanized in front of the TV with the daily Orations of Margaret. If this wasn't enough, there was also a big snooker tournament going on at the same time, so somehow my mother managed to get hooked on this as well. I think the fact that the Queen Mum was also a great fan, and actually was very good at snooker, convinced my mother that this was indeed the way to go. At least, by lunchtime, Mom was ready to go out, so it meant a lot less strain on me to have her so enjoy her long mornings in her robe with the telly going.

Now, just as you are wondering about Margaret and me, I should relate that some years later I had a dream where I was somehow at 10 Downing Street. A great party seemed to go on and on. Margaret was ever so nice, and showed me over the place. It seemed to grown darker and darker until I realized I would never get home ....wherever that was in this dream. Margaret said, "John dear, you had best put up here for the night. There is a nice long window seat on the landing between the first and second floor. It has a lovely cushion, and I will bring you a blanket"

There was just something so "take charge" about Margaret. I bedded down for the night, and before I knew it, it was dawn. Someone brought me a cup of tea and a biscuit, and I departed just as soon as I could.

I never saw Margaret again! We just passed like ships in the night. When I saw "The Iron Lady" I felt I had seen it all before. I guess I had!

Spring Forward....Step Back

So here it is the early days of February, yet my garden seems to say it is mid-March. It has been a long time since I experienced such a long bloom of my 20 or so camellias. "Magnolia Grandiflora" is a mass of shell pink flowers, and of course it is my favorites, at least at this moment. But an old timer, "Governor Mouton", has been blooming for two months, with the largest flowers I have ever seen. The longest time record is held by "Debutante" which started flowering in October and is just now finishing up. When I moved to South Carolina, a long experienced gardener told me that if I planted camellias and roses I would have flowers all year long.
Some of the camelias are now trees, after 27 years of growth. Some were moved from the front side to the back after the first three years. The rule seems to be to not plant them near oak or walnut trees, but aim for pines. Recently I had to do radical surgery on my woodland garden. Bushes planted originally too close together (a common fault) had to be thined out, with the result that a new vista appeared from my breakfast table window, down the hillside to the pond below. I can only see it in winter, but other times it is nice to know it is there.

Another loss was my largest pine, which was slowly finishing. I had a wonderful team come and take it down from the top, limb by limb, as it was only 12 feet from the house. Unfortunately, they only cut the trunk in rather large sections, as the charge to haul it away was too much for my pocket. So Billy, my faithful gardener, and myself set up a sawmill operation, and managed to roll all of them down to the bottom of the property, mostly out of sight. It will take a good 10 years for them to break down, but that is so much better for the enviornment.

I never realized I would go into woodland management, but that is the case when you have three acres of dense forest. We have slowly cleared under areas of trees, but not as radically as a good German farmer would do. I find birds like clearings as long as there is cover nearby. This, plus access to water, will bring birds to your porperty, even without putting out feed. Also, sandy areas attract doves, who like to sit in sand, or take a sand bath.

Our lovely new Southeast Park, situated off Garner's Ferry a few miles past the VA, is a great addition to this side of town. Today I noticed a small, slim wooden tower seeming to be about 15 feet high, with a top hat of metal that reflects the sun. According to the park ranger, it was built recently as a project by the Boy Scouts, and its purpose is to attract Swifts, which feed on the insects attracted by the reflection. The birds circle around it, feeding in the air. Its all too complicated for me, but it seems a nice addition. I guess the attraction is rather like moths attracted to light. Live and Learn!

Gustav Leonhardt

The death this weeik of Gustav Leonhardt brought memories of a visit with him in his home in Amsterdam in 1959. I was living in London, but decided to visit friends (fellow Fulbrighters) for a Dutch Christmas. A friend from Yale found a family for me to stay with for the week I was there, and so began my introduction to the Dutch way of life, and the wonderful city of Amsterdam. I was given a bicycle and thrown out into the streets of the city, almost immediately being pulled to the curb by a very polite policeman, who explained the rules of the road. Small country, lots of rules.

The visit with Gustav came about through Clyde Holloway, who was studying harpsichord with him, along with his organ studies with another professor. The small house sat right on the banks of a canal, and was filled with musical instruments and small children, family life lived where it fell. I was thrilled to see the harpsidhords, and listened as Gustav played Bach and children played at his feet. Clyde explained that Gustav was "the person" to go to, as he was at the forefront of Baroque performance practices at that time. Having been to Yale, where there is one of the great instrument collections in the world, and having studied with Emanuel Winternitz, the curator of instruments at the Metropolitan Museom of Art, I was no stranger to this world. In fact, my dissertation at Yale was directed by Ralph Kirkpatrick, whose performance style was well known to me. Kirkpattick was a difficult man, personally and musically. He laid down the rules, and that was it. Gustav, by contrast, was completely at ease with himself, and made you feel welcolmed into his home.

At that time Gustav had already formed his small consort, and done recordings for the Bach Guild, all released by Vanguard Records. He talked about his study in Vienna, and his dislike of his courses, leading him to spend all his time in the libraries copying manuscripts...literally dozens of them. He also said he came to the harpsichord during the Second World War, went he and his family were hanging on by a thread, living in the countryside with very little to eat. How well I remember my Dutch friends telling me they ate tulip bulbs in the depths of hunger.

So although my visit was brief, it still is bright in my memory. He ended up being a transformative figure in baroque music, yet remained down to earth and stayed in his charming home until his death.

Oh Those Charlestonians....!

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.

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.

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.