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By Olga Fyodorova
…1962. The Second Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. A British journalist
is having an after-concert interview with piano jury member Genrikh Neuhaus.
“Mr. Neuhaus, what do You think is the most important
thing in piano playing?”
“Originality. A pianist should be an artist, have a
personality all his own putting his own stamp on everything he plays…”
“Meaning that You put emotions ahead of the rational?”
“And You? You don’t see music as a soul-warmer, do You? Rationality
holds very little for the soul, it can prevail in literature, chess, but
never in music…”
“Mr. Neuhaus, people say You are the best piano teacher in
Russia, how about that?”
“It’s really surprising, you know. It’s hard to say who is
the best and who is the worst. Only God knows who is who. Everything else
is just the way people see it. And still, I’m really proud to list Svyatoslav
Rikhter among my former students.”
“What’s so special about Rikhter?”
“He is absolutely inimitable, one of a kind even though he
plays the same keys and reads the same notes just like everyone else. One
European critic once said that “There are two pianists in the world. One
is Ferenz Liszt and the other one is Svyatoslav Rikhter. I never
heard the former and I know the latter.” I can fully subscribe to this.”
“And how did Svyatoslav Rikhter actually come along?”
“Have you noticed that the best things in life all happen
suddenly? A friend of mine called me up one day asking me to audition
a young man from Odessa. He came over to my class and I saw he was
visibly older than the rest. I was a little bit disappointed because
mature people are harder to teach. Moving briskly, he went straight to
the piano and the moment he started playing I thought the world stopped
turning… A young Rikhter is a precious vessel one simply had to fill with
wine of equally precious quality…”
“Mr. Neuhaus, You are an amazing pianist too. Everyone who ever
heard You play still rave about those concerts. What kind of music do You
usually go for?”
“When I was a young man I liked the romantics and romantics
only. Especially Chopin. When I was 25 I started playing Skryabin’s preludes
and poems as well and their passion was driving me crazy… Then I moved
on to Beethoven and I acutely felt his tender and vulnerable soul. Not
long ago, already in my sixties, I fell in love with J.-S. Bach and played
all his 48 preludes and fugues. And, just a few days back, I returned to
Chopin and couldn’t hold back tears because his music is so wonderful,
really! You hear one thing when you are young and different things when
you are an old man!..”
“And who was Your first teacher?”
“My father. Although he was not the best professional around,
his playing was real good. Then I studied in Berlin and Vienna under the
great Leopold Godowski. He was the ultimate pianist! His hands fit
the keyboard like hand and glove! He was fun to talk to, artistic and easygoing.
And a great joker too. And perfect teacher, the very best! Coming to Petersburg
I got an external degree at the Conservatory there and started working
as a teacher, first in Tiflis, now Tbilisi, then in Kiev and, finally,
in Moscow. And playing all the time… Those were wonderful years,
really…”
“You like playing in ensembles, Mr. Neuhaus, and your concerts
with violinists David Oistrakh and Miron Polyakin and the Beethoven Quartet
are still remembered as the best ever.”
“My first partners were my relatives – my mother’s bother,
a well-known pianist Felix Blumenfeld, and my cousin – the Polish violinist
and composer Karol Szimanowski. Both were excellent performers and their
influence on me is hard to exaggerate. As to ensemble playing, this
is a special treat for me, just like having dinner with one’s good friends.”
“Mr. Neuhaus, you’ve been teaching at the Moscow Conservatory
for about 40 years now. During the 1930s You even were the Conservatory’s
rector. Why did You step down?”
“Do I look like a Rector? To order people around is not my
cup of tea, you know. I am an artist, a teacher, someone who gets carried
away easily. Even my German punctuality and pedantic ways give way under
the maelstrom of emotions filling my soul…”
“So You are German? I can imagine just what You must have
gone through during Stalin’s years when all ethnic Germans living in Russia
were looked upon as spies. How did You manage to avoid the purges?”
“I didn’t… That’s something I hate to recall. I can
only say that I know from personal experience what torture is all about.
When Stalin’s goons picked me up I thought I was a goner, that I would
never get out of there alive. But I did, leaving behind only my teeth…
Not a big problem, really. I later put in false teeth. Thank God they didn’t
break my hands…”
“Mr. Neuhaus, tell me please, what does your teaching method
base on? Do You focus more on technique or on the spiritual side of playing?”
“Which of the two is more important, the Sun or the Moon?
I would never tell my students about the artistic side of playing, its
content, its idea, without making sure he has enough flash to flesh out
these ideas. Just like I would never concentrate on the technical
side only, forgetting about the essence of the music we play. Which means
that I’m always looking for the best of the two worlds…”
“Many busy performers are said to be living secluded lives.
Rakhmaninoff once said that he was 85% musician and only 15% human.
What about You?”
“I think Rakhmaninoff was not entirely right with the percentages.
He was a perfectly educated and well-read man with a brilliant memory and
excellent speech. He was a great interlocutor and a very friendly
man.”
“And Fyodor Chaliapin was such a versatile man, a singer,
actor, artist, writer, you name it! And examples like this abound. I like
such people and have always been trying to be like them. You see,
I have even written a book about it – it’s called “The Art of Piano Playing…”
“Is it an instructional book?”
“No. I’m afraid it won’t sit well with our diehard educationalists
who will cry bloody murder because I say that no matter how good a teacher
may be, he cannot mass produce performing pianists capable of keeping the
audience sitting on the edge of their seats. Any real pianist, just
like any artist, is one of a kind and it’s often hard to say why so many
talented and professionally well-heeled players never manage to become
real great performers… Well, I guess the world of arts is the most paradoxical
of all existing human endeavors. Why only a handful of child prodigies
ever make it big in music? Why all-A students so rarely hit
out at the big time? Why well-rehearsed nuances have no spark in concert
and spontaneous, improvisations immediately reach out to the people’s hearts
and souls? There are many more “whys” I’ve spent all my time trying
to figure out…”
Genrikh Neuhaus died at 76 as a shining symbol of the
Russian school of piano playing, spawning a constellation of top-notch
players like Svyatoslav Rikhter, Emil Gilels, Yakov Zak, Stanislav Neuhaus,
Vera Gornostayeva, Anatoly Vedernikov, Alexei Nasedkin, Vladimir Krainev
and Lev Naumov. The performing and teaching principles worked out
by the great Master are still alive carried on by his many students and
“musical grandchildren.”
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