Superstars are Human After All

[Satzaroo]

I have attended many concerts featuring celebrated pianists. Most of the performances were flawlessly executed, at least according to my standards at the time. The two pianists whom I admired the most were Jorge Bolet and  Rudolf Serkin--Bolet for his humility at East Carolina University; Serkin for his persistence at Kent State University. Just a few minutes into Lizst's B-minor sonata that I thought he was playing masterfully, Bolet suddenly stopped, got up, and jolted the audience with this remark: "You certainly have not come here to see me make mistakes. I'm going to start again." He didn't specify what he had done incorrectly. It could have been anything from sloppy phrasing to a wrong note. Whatever the error, Bolet wasn't satisfied with his performance at that moment; and he wasn't too proud to publicly admit his lapse. He resumed playing without any further interruptions. When he was done, I clapped furiously, applauding his honesty as much as his talent.

Rudolf Serkin showed a different kind of character while performing Beethoven's Apassionata sonata. I was seated in the front row, so I was able to see the incomparable maestro at work. But being so close was a mixed blessing. Within a minute or two, I noticed that Serkin had a runny nose that he automatically wiped on his sleeve—without missing a beat or a note. His nose continued to drip a bit more as the sonata progressed. But Serkin wasn't rattled. His sleeve may have been soaked, but his concentration was undisturbed. How could the man have so much composure in the midst of so much mucous? If Serkin was worried that his hands might get sticky and foul up his performance, he didn't show it. He persevered, and he triumphed, only one errant drip away from disaster. If I had been further back, I probably would have missed the show within a show.
You never know what to expect at a live concert.  How else would I have seen how ably Jorge Bolet and Rudolf Serkin confronted such different kinds of unanticipated challenges?

[Conor71]

I have attended many concerts featuring celebrated pianists. Most of the performances were flawlessly executed, at least according to my standards at the time. The two pianists whom I admired the most were Jorge Bolet and  Rudolf Serkin--Bolet for his humility at East Carolina University; Serkin for his persistence at Kent State University. Just a few minutes into Lizst's B-minor sonata that I thought he was playing masterfully, Bolet suddenly stopped, got up, and jolted the audience with this remark: "You certainly have not come here to see me make mistakes. I'm going to start again." He didn't specify what he had done incorrectly. It could have been anything from sloppy phrasing to a wrong note. Whatever the error, Bolet wasn't satisfied with his performance at that moment; and he wasn't too proud to publicly admit his lapse. He resumed playing without any further interruptions. When he was done, I clapped furiously, applauding his honesty as much as his talent.

Rudolf Serkin showed a different kind of character while performing Beethoven's Apassionata sonata. I was seated in the front row, so I was able to see the incomparable maestro at work. But being so close was a mixed blessing. Within a minute or two, I noticed that Serkin had a runny nose that he automatically wiped on his sleeve—without missing a beat or a note. His nose continued to drip a bit more as the sonata progressed. But Serkin wasn't rattled. His sleeve may have been soaked, but his concentration was undisturbed. How could the man have so much composure in the midst of so much mucous? If Serkin was worried that his hands might get sticky and foul up his performance, he didn't show it. He persevered, and he triumphed, only one errant drip away from disaster. If I had been further back, I probably would have missed the show within a show.
You never know what to expect at a live concert.  How else would I have seen how ably Jorge Bolet and Rudolf Serkin confronted such different kinds of unanticipated challenges?

Cool, interesting stories - cheers for posting .

[Superhorn]

  Some years ago,while I was still an active horn player, I was playing a concert with an orchestra on Long Island,where I used to live, and a pianist whose name I can't recall, who was on the faculty of the Manhattan School of Music,and may still be, was playing the Schumann concerto.
  In the last movement, he had a sudden loss of memory, and the
performance stopped suddenly,startling every one,both on stage and in the audience. The pianist quickly went offstage and consulted the score, and the performance resumed and ended fine. The conductor stayed calm also.
   He kept a cool head during the incident, and the audience gave him plenty of applause anyway. A real pro.

[Guido]

?

[Scarpia]

Well, I never had the idea that "superstar" performers are typically exemplary human beings.  I would think that more often than not they aren't, since their profession requires them to obsessively focus on one thing to the exclusion of everything that is really important in life.

[Sonata33]

I have two stories that go along with this thread:

1) We had an artist in residence at my college from Hungary who was a celeb pianist. I won't state her name in order to protect her. Anyway, she gave an all-Liszt concert on her final evening with us at the univeristy. I was assigned to turn pages for her, for which I was so excited!! Well, as soon as she started playing, I thought it was weird that she wasn't playing the left-hand part as written in the music. Then the next piece, still no left hand as written, and so on. She played an entire two-hour concert where she made up/significantly simplified the left hand and just focused on the right-hand part. I was shocked and startled. I mentioned it to my applied instruction after the concert and the death-look she gave me for bringing it up shut me up until now...twelve years later!

2) Also, in college, different time of my life entirely, I was assigned to drive Anthony de Mare to his hotel and back to the concert. We had to walk through the freshman dorms to get to my car. My car was an old piece of crap and it was the scariest 20 minutes of my life. I wonder if he still remembers that. I spent years of my life so excited about this story, but now I am so darn embarrassed about it, heh. On a positive note, I was deathly afraid of contemporary music until I heard his concert--but because of his concert, modern music is about all I care to listen to nowadays.

[greg]

Well, I never had the idea that "superstar" performers are typically exemplary human beings.  I would think that more often than not they aren't, since their profession requires them to obsessively focus on one thing to the exclusion of everything that is really important in life.

Sounds like just about any other type of job...