So, how can we just leave music alone? A fast-paced culture together with beeping gadgets and state-of-the-art computers have created a phenomenen known as ‘music in a bottle syndrome’ which is basically ubiquitous music that you can access quickly and easily sometimes even with the push of a button. Sometimes, going to a piano recital today is like going to a butcher’s shop and asking for 2 kilograms of Rachman’ lard and 100 ml of Prokof’ vinegar. OK, I agree that Rachaminoff’s second sonata is a great piece of piano literature, but how many times do we have to hear it butchered in the same dull fashion, until it becomes so nautious that even a tired, old grub found in the corner of one’s basement seems more interesting?
I digress. Back to the concept of leaving music alone. Simone Barere (the other great student of Felix Blumenfeld besides Vladimir Horowitz) was a master at this. His recitals always bore the emblem of freshness…
By leaving music alone, we classical pianists mean more than just not over-practicing or merely leaving everything to chance. We mean an entire lifestyle and philosophy dedicated to the practicing of nil. When one goes about one’s day in the spirit of nonchalance, yet still takes loving care of all the details that obscure one’s path, the pianist can acquire the most permanent state of awe-inspiring awareness. It is a moral and ethical duty to perform music in such a state of curiosity and repose.
Let’s take the case of Simone Barere. Mr. Barere rarely practiced the piano except before recitals in Carnegie Hall in which, on the contrary he would practice like a madman. During his recitals, he could easily fall into a trance and magnetize his audiences, displaying an array of musical colors and timbres, like a scientist designing new color dyes for the latest clothing fashions.
If you can always manage to practice in such a state of integrity and unconditional passion, then hoorah, you are a pianist with a special gift to nurture; an introverted type, who takes 70% of his inspiration from within. Other pianists are more extroverted, taking 70% of their muse from the outside world, continuously requiring an audience and other such hooplah in their presence to perform at their peak.
Both types of pianists can still benefit from the above-mentioned ideology no matter whether they like to practice alone or not. How else, can they wait just that extra microsecond longer on stage before a critical note to enter the metaphysical realm?
