"I was not a child prodigy; indeed, I had none of the requisite qualities for making a successful career" - which has not really prevented Alfred Brendel from becoming one of the greatest pianists of the 20th century. In these dialogues with Martin Meyer he speaks about his life, the development of his career, his music-making, his travels, his poems and essays; about his childhood in Zagreb, adolescence in Graz, and experiences as a young man in Vienna ("I was in Vienna, but I was never a "genuine" Viennese"); about literature, painting, architecture and kitsch. He talks about the liberties and obligations of a performer and discusses the work of musicians that have fascinated him, such as Edwin Fischer, Cortot, Kempff, Furtwangler and Bruno Walter, or irritated him, like Glenn Gould. The conversations, which are both serious and witty, abound in amusing anecdotes and contain penetrating insights into the music of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Liszt, Busoni and Schoenberg.
A fascinating series of conversations with Alfred Brendel, the Austrian pianist who is probably best known for his recordings of Beethoven and Schubert. Brendel was not a child prodigy, he tells us, is not a great sight-reader, and was largely self-taught. It's always interesting to hear what the great pianists think are the great compositions, and the lesser compositions, the best and worst ways of playing, learning, and interpreting, and of course what they think of other pianists. Brendel isn't crazy about Glenn Gould, or Vladimir Horowitz.
A well-known American author...once asked various pianists what they thought of Horowitz. I was unable to contribute to his book because, as I told him, I was more interested in musical realities than musical myths.
I was not as enthusiastic about Horowitz the artist as many of my colleagues. And I was not so captivated by him as a pianist either, since I found that his kind of virtuosity rarely served the music as I understood it.
...you can either illuminate works with a spotlight from without, or develop them from within....the spotlights from without are embodied for me particularly clearly in Glenn Gould. In my view, he was not interested in deciphering a work from within, but wished instead, as unexpectedly as possible, to illuminate it from without. He went so far as to actually hamper an understanding of a composer, and maltreat him, in order to be original at all costs. It was clearly compulsive.
Gould to me was a classic example of what a performer should not be; as an eccentric, he seemed determined to oppose the wishes of the composer or go against the character of the piece.
I've always asked myself: why does this man, who is so gifted, treat composers in such a disgraceful way? It seems to me that quite a few people love this kind of sadism...There is nothing wrong in playing pieces in a variety of ways - but please do so within the limits, within the character and structure of the piece itself. Gould deliberately oversteps these limits, or he is simply not aware of them.
...it seems to me that he has no interest in all in the character of the piece. He is not aware that it exists...He does not consider that there might be a character which is indissolubly connected with the piece, which one must find and bring to life.
I have to accept that Gould's playing can on occasions be revelatory. But I do not think this is due to psychological understanding, but rather to chance - the desire to do what is unexpected.
I am not a Rachmaninov fan. The piano repertoire is vast, and Rachmaninov to me seems a waste of time.
...among [Rachmaninov's] works for piano, above all the piano concertos, there is nothing that I find captivating, enough to recommend to a young pianist. Nor has the third piano concerto ever convinced me.
The book is in Q & A format (the questioner is Martin Meyer, literary editor of the Neue Zurcher Zeitung) and the sections are Life, About Music, On Performance, On Writing (Brendel has published essays and poetry), and an Epilogue.
Before delving into this book, the prospective reader should understand that Alfred Brendel (unfortunately just recently deceased) devoted the whole of his career as a pianist to interpreting the classics of the Austro-Germanic school and, as such, certainly in the United States, became somewhat of a standard-bearer, even an icon, for that approach. However, there was more to him than his public image would suggest. The interview format allows this book to examine the pianist’s private life with some care and at the same time brings into relief some of the factors that made him so notable an icon of contemporary pianism. It therefore makes for revelations of a more personal nature than Alfred Brendel on Music (a collection of essays): reflections on upbringing and early life and career, assessment of and opinions about fellow performers (Viennese crossover pianist Friedrich Gulda comes across as a person of particular interest in this context), thoughts on performing music and writing poetry, love of incongruity and the grotesque, general culture, and much else. Like Brendel’s collections of essays, Me of All People examines the work of a performing classical musician in a manner that is probing and detail-conscious far beyond the ordinary and, along the way, reveals insights that are worth every performer’s while to know.
Another volume of words from the master, Alfred Brendel. One of the greatest minds in classical music of the 20th Century, a brilliant performer and a very interesting artist and thinker. This is a serious of interviews, translated from German. He offers extensive thoughts on performance practice, composers and life. One of the best books-as-a-gift that I ever received!