FRANZ LISZT Portrait of the Man & his Masterwork The Sonata in B Minor

I am a pianist and a performer. My ultimate goal when I am learning a new composition is to arrive at that point where it sounds “natural”—without pretense—as if it were flowing as naturally as speech. That only arrives after all the notes are learned, the structure has been fully analyzed, the memory secure, and there is a deep understanding of what the composer is trying to say. Once these hurdles are overcome— technical, intellectual, emotional—then the striving for mastery can begin—that process of letting the composition become yours, making it your own while always honoring the intentions of the composer.

The phrase “letting it come to you” should be the mantra for all our work. The process of discovery cannot be pushed or accelerated, just as we cannot push the river to make the current flow slower or faster. It will follow its own course as nature dictates. And so it is with our work in music: as more and more layers are peeled away and secrets revealed, we are swept forward towards understanding the natural flow of the music— to listen and experience its inner voice and ultimately discover the voice of the composer.

As a young piano student I remember how much I loved gobbling up new repertoire. There were so many works I couldn’t wait to learn and perform. Now looking back, perhaps I was only scratching the surface at the time. Yes, of course I mastered the notes and performed these pieces rather well, but perhaps I never truly went deep enough. Or maybe at that time of my life, I wasn’t ready to dive under the notes without fear. Now that I am older, I am granted the luxury of taking the time to dig deeper, no matter where it might lead. My goal is to try and embody the spiritual essence of the composer and share his soul with the listener. Obviously with a great piece of music, that work will never be finished. The more we dig, the more there will be to uncover. But what a joy to discover what hasn’t been seen before! And so we keep trying to get a bit closer every time.

When I am invited to listen to a musical performance by a fellow artist, I want to be taken on a journey of discovery. It is not sufficient to just hear a mastery of all the technical difficulties. I want to be surprised as well as convinced by the performance. And most importantly, my soul is craving an emotional and spiritual connection to the music I am hearing. I want to be touched and feel the divine essence of the composer’s spirit. Only then does the magic happen—transporting us from our earthbound existence to soar towards the heavens!! 

Posted on my refrigerator door is the following quote: “Every man is born an original but sadly most die as copies.” If we apply that adage to piano playing, that means forging our own pathway with the instrument. For the professional pianist, it signifies no longer being the student but having the courage to step forward to become a master –in other words finding one’s own voice at the instrument.

I am reminded of an experience I had while a student in high school. My first piano teacher realized that it was time for me to study with someone of greater musical experience. Residing in the city of Philadelphia, we went to the renowned music school for advice and guidance about the next step to be taken. The decision was made that I would start studying with this well known professor. Her students always won the auditions to solo with the Philadelphia Orchestra at one of their children’s concerts. I still remember that first lesson with this rather stern and imposing woman. I played the Bb minor Chopin Scherzo among other things and probably played it quite well for someone my age. Her first comment was that my technique was all wrong, and I would have to start all over again to relearn how to play the piano. A book of exercises by Pischna was assigned. There was no acknowledgement of any natural facility that I might have had at the keyboard. All this professor could see was that I did not approach the instrument “her” way, the way that she herself had been taught. Instinctively I knew that one should never tear down a solid foundation but should build upon it to make it stronger. I am still amazed that at my young age I had the wisdom to say to my mother that this teacher was not the right teacher for me, and the courage to walk away from her class, even if it meant giving up the chance to win one of the Philadelphia Orchestra’s young artists’ auditions. Eventually I found a teacher who would help build my technique by adding to its solid foundation at the instrument. And by the way, when I finally made my American professional debut with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra at the age of 24, I realized that it was so much more meaningful and definitely well worth the wait!

Sharing this story recalled stories about my old friend Sergei Prokofiev, a man who always believed in his talent, no matter who was telling him otherwise. He managed to shake up the status-quo and forge his own direction without kowtowing to others. He always did it his way! This was a man who expressed himself directly and with honesty; being tactful was never part of his DNA. Of course, this led to frequent misunderstandings with many of his musician friends. Diplomacy was not a word in Prokofiev’s vocabulary. Check out these words written by a man who surely knew the level of his own talent. He's not being arrogant- he just knows his gifts!

But he forged his own pathway and always possessed that natural voice, the voice that nobody could imitate. He was truly an original!

And yes, we need more originals in this world— less copies—especially in the field of piano-playing!!