I had a curious experience last year. I don't know if you can imagine being back in your old classroom, which remains unchanged in appearance and is the same in almost every way you remember it. That wasn't quite my experience - but almost. I visited the school where my older brother and I were weekly-boarders - myself between 1968 and 1969, and my brother for some years before that.
A lady who worked in the office very kindly let us into the building which was (and still is ) the private house of the headmaster's family, wherein were housed the office and the music room. As we were shown into the music room, the first thing I noticed was a computer in the far left corner - that, of course, hadn't been there in my day. I gave a gasp, however, when I looked to my left and saw the piano on which I had learnt, exactly where it was the last time I had been in the room - in 1969, fifty years previously! After we had chatted with the lady for a few minutes, it came up that I was now a professional musician and that I had learnt on the very piano which was still there!
"Oh, would you play for us?" she declared and I agreed (it doesn't take much persuasion!)
But how strange it was to be sitting at that same instrument where I had fumbled through Mozart and Beethoven. Here I was, showing off with a difficult Schubert Impromptu and making my listeners, stalwarts of the current school staff, glow with pride (or so I imagined!) To think that their school and this very piano had helped produce a concert pianist!
Which brings me onto the personal connection a pianist has with his instrument. Do you remember the record of Sparky's Magic Piano from the late 40's? It tells of the boy, "about your age", who wishes for quick results from his piano practice and whose piano comes alive in a dream. He is suddenly able to play great masterpieces at breakneck speed with ease, so much so that his mother and teacher send him off on a world tour. This was, by the way, a wonderful educational tool for youngsters and introduced them to great works by Chopin, Rimsky-Korsakov and Rachmaninov, amongst others. Sparky must insist, of course, on taking his own piano with him on his tour. This was not just a case of attachment to one's instrument - it was a vital necessity! When the magic power eventually runs out (that's always the way in these stories, isn't it?) and he attempts an encore at Carnegie Hall after a virtuoso concert, given by the magic piano, our hearts grieve for him as he bangs his way up and down the piano in frustration until, mercifully, he awakens. The dream has helped him reach the understanding that things don't come easy in life and that it's only grit, determination and hard work that can lead to success. A great moral lesson, indeed!
I have recently wondered whether the story was based on certain pianists insisting that they had their pianos transported around the world to their concert venues. An expensive business, and, therefore, limited to such greats as Vladimir Horowitz and, more recently, Kristian Zimerman. The latter's Steinway piano, it seems, was destroyed at JFK airport a few months after the Twin Towers were destroyed. Evidently, the suspicious airport staff thought that the glue smelt funny. After that episode, he travelled with the mechanical insides of his own piano and, being not only a pianist, but also an expert piano technician, would install the parts inside a borrowed Steinway shell. Several years later, he decided to take his whole instrument once more, but customs delays ruined his concert schedule, so that was the end of that! All credit to him for trying! Such determination illustrates how important having one's own instrument at a concert is to a pianist - though few can afford the luxury.
I don't pretend to be anywhere near the class of these pianists, but I well understand the dilemma. One learns how to play a piece of music together with the instrument itself. When one arrives at the venue he must adapt very quickly to an almost whole new way of playing. I may be exaggerating, but it can sometimes involve considerable mental effort to do things differently, and that's why it's so important for concert artists to practise in the hall on the actual piano they will use for the concert - at least on the day of the concert.
I have had many experiences with different pianos in various venues over the years, some hilarious, others pathetic. Perhaps the funniest was when I attempted to play a Chopin Nocturne on a rather old upright piano which didn't look very promising from the start. As I got about half-way through the piece, one of the black notes worked its way loose. I nonchalantly threw it over my right shoulder and continued playing. But that was not the end of it! Some of its friends decided to follow suit until the Nocturne degenerated into a companion piece for Chopin's famous Black-note Etude: this was now the White-note Nocturne! Unforgettable...
Nowadays, the problem is somewhat alleviated by the arrival on the market of decent digital pianos. These are not without their problems either. For instance, if you leave the power-cord at home it can be frustrating, because audiences generally like to be able to hear the music instead of just seeing your fingers move!
My own Yamaha has served me faithfully for over forty years but has, needless to say, always remained at home. It was the instrument my father bought for me when I was 17, after I gained a place at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, UK. I well remember playing it in the shop and falling in love with it - a case of love at first play, if you will. I even recall preferring it to the beautiful Steinway which I had also tried out (not that my father would have agreed to pay the extra thousands of pounds had I wanted that piano instead!) Living at home when I was a student was a distinct advantage because finding a practice room in college was no mean feat. I was extremely fortunate because I always had my own instrument at my beck and call.
Despite the fact that naughty little legs have kicked it over the years during piano lessons (rather the piano than the teacher, I reflect!) it is in great condition. I regularly have it maintained by an expert technician and I have no intention of taking it anywhere - even if that were possible! After all...
Home is where the piano is!
You can see Kristian Zimerman at work here:
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