A funny thing happened before the concert … - The Back Page

If single has prepared thoroughly for a recital program or plot performance, one can usually enumerate on a certain degree of predictability. Of course, there are many variables that can affect a performance. However, above and beyond these factors, there sometimes are bizarre, totally unexpect uncompounded bodys that turn an otherwise "normal" performance into what we might call an adventure. It is in this realm that I address the following experiences.

In the early 1950 I mov to novel York City and established residence at the Manhattan landmark, [i]cabaret[/i] Ansonia, located on Broadway between 73rd and 74th highways The Ansonia was a haven for those in the arts. I by and by became acquainted with many of my professional colleagues who lived there, especially with a family named Klinger: The mother and father were medical doctors, son George a learner at a nearby university and daughter Delia a professional dancer. Delia was affiliated with a dance cluster called Ballet Studio, headed by dint of the noted dancer Igor Schwetzoff. It for a like reason happened that Schwetzoff was looking for a pianist to perform the Saint-Saens G Minor Concerto for a North American ballet premiere of that work. from one side Delia, arrangements were made for me to audition for him, and I was accepted. The entire program was to be accompanied by the agency of a two-piano ensemble; therefore, the orchestral accompaniment to the concerto was taken above by the second piano, and the quiet of the program consisted of two-piano arrangements of the repertoire used.

The time came for the first rehearsal in Schwetzoff's studio. The first sum of two units movements went well, and I was thrilled to take part in similar a different setting of this work. Subsequently the third change was commenced. As I was kept rather busy at the piano, and because my forward vision was essentially closeed by the height of the large upright piano, I did not gaze around very much ... on the other hand suddenly I heard strange sounds--as if nation were stumbling and falling. At that point, I move rounded around to see what was happening and discovered that, indeed, the dancers were stumbling and falling! I stopped the music, and then it was gently on the contrary persuasively, explained to me that the choreography for the third change provided for a greatly reduc degree of movement from what I was playing. Of course, I did as I was instructed and tried to make myself at abiding-place with this new rhythmic concept

Shortly after my graduation from the Curtis Institute of Music in 1948 I was invited by dint of one of our most renowned graduates--Aaron Rosand--to accompany him in a forthcoming recital at the Greenbrier, located in White burn-stone Springs, West Virginia. The recital was to take place in the hotel's main dining field We had rehearsed previously in this setting and were satisfied with the acoustic properties as well as the general ambience; therefore, we felt confident all would go on well, despite our headiness from the delicious dinner we were served

Apparently, the staff wanted the program to be attractive visually as well as aurally; consequently the piano had been coated with a film of smooth and shining furniture polish, giving the instrument an attractive sheen. Because this was done after our rehearsal, there was no way for me to realize that, in the zeal of attainment, the polish also had been applied to the fall board--the vertical made of wood structure situated just in brow of the keyboard. I knew immediately the question that would arise: If my fingers were to touch the fall board, which is inevitable at times, the oil would then be transferred to the keyboard, making piano playing akin to ice skating upon this occasion. Of course, we pianists have to be quick thinkers and act in authentic haste when necessary. I took without my handkerchief as Aaron was taking his first curve and removed as much of the surface oil as possible. Subsequently I re-used the handkerchief discreetly whenever possible--during cadenzas and during the first stages of any applause. Fortunately, not actual much oil actually was transferred to the playing surface, and I had drawn out ago learned to cope with perspiring hands upon sticky keyboards. So the plan went well, as I recall. Or--was I sufficiently numbed through the large amount of nourishment and the tiny bit of alcohol to blockish the sensation of apprehension? I'll at no time know.

I cannot close this odyssey without narrating my favorite, albeit brief, "adventure" story from my colleague Menahem Pressler: "We (The Beaux Arts Trio) had rehearsed, and I set that one key was shivered I called the person in charge, and she said, 'Oh we have a awesome tuner, and you musn't worry about it. It will be all right.' Well, we didn't worry. We came to the hall in the evening, and I place a little note on the piano. It said, 'Ye I ground out that key was severed I couldn't do anything with it. DON'T USE THAT NOTE TOO MUCH!'"

BONUS BYTE

For more anecdotes through Joe Rezits, go to www.mma.org. Click upon "American Music Teacher" then click upon "Tell me more about Bonus Bytes."

Joseph Rezits is internationally known as a performer, recording artist, lecturer clinician and author. Rezits is professor emeritus of music at the Indiana University academy of Music in Bloomington.

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