Open Writing

“He’s a super musician – but he’s not really a virtuoso!” said Olga. We were discussing a local pianist whose recordings and performances are extremely popular.

What did Olga mean? The Cambridge Dictionary defines a virtuoso as ‘someone who is extremely good at doing something, particularly playing a musical instrument.’

The pianist we were discussing is indeed extremely good. His passion for his music shines through every performance, no matter how many wrong notes he plays... Aha, maybe that is the point – those wrong notes that creep into his performances.

The on-line Merriam-Webster Dictionary takes the definition of ‘virtuoso’ a little further: among their several definitions of the word is, ‘A musician who is a consummate master of technique and artistry.’ By this extended definition, our pianist falls short of virtuosity because of a lack of mastery of technique, though his artistry is without question.

By this definition, who can be defined as musical virtuosos? We could delve into ancient history to find them; they would be there, people whose achievements and performances dazzled those who witnessed them.

More recently, there was Johan Sebastian Bach (1685 – 1750). Before he was seventeen, he was known in German musical circles as a virtuoso player of the organ. Because of this, he was said to have ‘a high market value’ – churches vied for his services, and were willing to pay him well. His obsession with organ playing, however, led to difficulties with at least one of his employers, who said that when he applied his ‘virtuoso techniques’ during church services he ‘confused the unprepared congregation’! He was so busy showing off his amazing abilities that the congregation didn’t know when to sing!

One element of being a virtuoso is development of physical control over one’s instrument – known as technique – facilitating an ease with which to play the required notes in exact written sequence, frequently at a dazzling speed.

However, technique without artistry is not the full answer to becoming a virtuoso: technical perfection must be the vehicle that permits artistry to turn mere sequences of notes into music which speaks directly to the heart of anyone who listens. Bach combined both technique and artistry – he was a virtuoso in every branch of music that he touched. His compositions certainly require virtuosity in the musicians who perform them to this day.

The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines ‘artistry’ as ‘quality of effect or workmanship’. Carrying my search further into the Thesaurus, I found that ‘artistry’ is ‘subtle or imaginative ability in inventing, devising or executing’. Thus, add ‘subtle imagination’ to a technically perfect performance, and perhaps a virtuoso is in the making.

There have been many great virtuosos who travelled Europe and the Western World, astounding audiences with their performances:

Young Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart toured the courts and aristocratic residences of Europe, surrendering his childhood to virtuoso performances on keyboard and violin. His audiences were enthralled with his technical ability, his musicality, his ‘taste’ and elegance.

When Beethoven first lived in Vienna, he challenged every visiting virtuoso to piano-playing ‘duels’ during which the contestants each improvised a set of variations on a simple tune. His opponents left their audiences gasping; Beethoven had them on their feet, ignoring earlier heroes in his favour.

Pianists Chopin and Liszt were followed in the last century by the likes of Martha Argerich. Violinist Joshua Bell, is a fitting successor of such virtuosi as Vivaldi and Paganini. In the flute-playing world, nineteenth century flautists Philippe Gaubert and Marcel Moyse preceded a host of amazing flute players who achieve increasingly remarkable levels of technical and artistic virtuosity: Jean-Pierre Rampal, Peter-Lucas Graf, James Galway and many others!

Witnessing a virtuoso performance is an inspirational experience. Leon and I were recently in the audience at a performance given by young Damascus-born clarinettist, Kinan Azmeh, whose home is now New York. Before the concert I perused the programme: he was to play works by Poulenc and Debussy – lovely. Then, there were names of more controversial composers whose works I was convinced would make me uncomfortable – Berg, Bartok and Drascosky. Once Kinan put lips to clarinet, however, the entire audience was spellbound. His mastery of the instrument was superb, from sound quality to technical brilliance. His slow passages were controlled, tense, tender and passionate, his breathing equally controlled. Perhaps the most delightful aspect was his utter immersion in the music and his performance, demonstrated by swaying body, expressive hands and ecstasy on his face.

The zenith of the concert was reached when Kinan Azmeh played his own composition: ‘21st Century Nomad for Solo Clarinet’. He stood alone at the centre of the stage; the clarinet’s sobbing came to us seemingly from an immense distance, as the Arabic influences carried the tune; clarinet wailing to greater volume, he walked, one measured, deliberate step at a time to the stairs on the right of the stage. He descended to the lowest level of the auditorium, the lonely sound conjuring images of vast and empty deserts, camels and oases. He climbed, step by step to the mid-point of the auditorium, the caravan drawing ever closer; then ambled across as, gradually, the sound grew softer and the camels melted into mirage. He returned to the stage, crossed it and disappeared into the wings as the sound vanished in the distance…

Kinan Azmeh’s was a performance that redefined the word ‘virtuoso’. He is ‘my’ virtuoso of the moment – who is yours?

Until next week, ‘here comes Treble!’

By Isabel Bradley © copyright reserved