Benedetti Michelangeli : inédits chez DG

[Louis]

et en effet j'étais à ce récital arrêté à l'entracte pour froid aux mains...

moi aussi, à Pleyel, n'est-ce pas?

[The Fierce Rabbit]

C'est vrai qu'à côté, certaines stars hollywoodiennes avaient l'air d'enfants de choeur. Me myself moi perso ich selbst (ça ira comme ça ? ...!!), je lui pardonne néanmoins tout. Il m'emporte tellement loin de tout ce/ceux qui me pèse/nt ...

[hideux67]

Dans l'article de diapason il y est fait une référence à l'interview d'ABM par John Gruen. En voici l'intégralité (enfin je suppose..) :



"Michelangeli Will Play Here Again Next Year - Maybe" by John
Gruen
(The New York Times, August 21st 1977)



Among the handful of the world's legendary pianists, Arturo
Benedetti Michelangeli is perhaps the most reclusive, enigmatic and
obsessive. Living in voluntary exile and isolation in Lugano,
Switzerland (for reasons he chooses not to divulge, he has refused to
reside or perform in his native Italy for the past 10 years),
Michelangeli makes infrequent appearances on the European concert
stage. When he does perform, he avidly shuns all publicity and avoids
any contact with either his fellow artists or an adoring public. Often
given to cancelling concerts, Michelangeli seems a law unto himself,
following in the dictates of his feelings and moods.



The 57-year-old pianist has not appeared in America for some eight
years. Turning down repeated invitations to revisit these shores,
Michelangeli has preferred to let his presence be known through a
small series of Deutsche Grammophon recordings. However, last June, in
Vienna, this writer learned that Michelangeli had finally resolved to
undertake his second tour of the United States and Canada next spring.
Owing to the pianist's unpredictability, it seemed wise to talk to him
about his carrer and plans well in advance.



In New York, there will be two Carnegie Hall recitals - on March 10
and 23. Michelangeli will also play in Boston, twice at Kennedy Center
in Washington, Montreal, Toronto, Chicago, Miami, Dallas, Cleveland
and Los Angels. This is the itinerary, but one never knows about
Michelangeli.


In Vienna, the pianist participated in the 18th International
"Musikfest Der Wiener Conzerthausgesellschaft." Two concerts were
announced. The first would feature the pianist in Tchaikovsky's Piano
Concerto No.1, with Leif Segerstam conducting the Austrian Radio
Symphony. The second would be a solo recital. Both concerts were sold
out weeks in advance, with stage seats being added for the solo
concert of June 25. Some days prior to his appearance in the
Tchaikovsky concerto, Michelangeli cancelled. The press announced that
the pianist claimed illness. It added that Michelangeli suggested he
be replaced by the young American pianist James Tocco, who had also
participated in the festival one week earlier with an all Chopin
recital. Thus, on extreme short notice, Tocco stepped in and performed
the Tchaikovsky concerto. All six Vienna newspapers gave Tocco rave
reviews while severely chastizing Michelangeli for once more
disappointing the public by what they deemed his capricious
cancellations. A nervous festival management asked James Tocco to
stand by as the replacement for Michelangeli's upcoming solo concert.



As it turned out, the Italian pianist arrived in Vienna on the
morning of his scheduled performance. That same evening he played
Beethoven's Sonata, Op.111; Brahms's Ballades, Op.10, and Debussy's
Preludes, Book 1. The concert proved memorable in every way,
confirming Michelangeli's reputation as one of the world's musical
giants. As Harold C. Schonberg, music critic of The Times, noted in
his book "The Great Pianists," Michelangeli is a legend to his
colleagues who put him in the Horowitz class as a super-virtuoso...
"Some of his playing is startling in its sheer pianistic polish and
perfection. He is a complete master of tonal application."



Throughout his concert in Vienna, Michelangeli shed the aura of a
mystic. And, indeed, it was the tone and the deep reverence with which
he approached the music that instantly gripped the audience. His
playing seemed removed from the earthly, and no harshness or
percussiveness was allowed to enter even the most stormy passages.
Sitting erect, his face ashen and drawn in concentration, he seemed
impervious to his surroundings. Even with the stage and concert hall
overflowing, an invisible circumference separated the pianist from his
public. Upon the conclusion of each work, he slowly rose from his
seat, briefly nodded to thunderous applause and, as if in a trance,
walked offstage.



Few facts are known about Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli. A native of
Brescia, he is said to have studied with a certain Maestro Anfossi,
receiving his piano degree at the Milan Conservatory at the age of 13.
At 19, he won the first prize at the Geneva International Piano
Competition. Still only 19, he was made principal professor of piano
at the Bologna Conservatory. Concurrently, he studied medicine,
specializing in surgery. Abandoning medicine, he embarked on a world-
wide concert tour. During the late 1950's until the mid-60's, he
founded and maintained what he called the International Academy, a
privately run, tuition-free school, where he personally trained a
large number of highly gifted pianists, including Martha Argerich and
Maurizio Pollini.



To obtain an interview with Michelangeli proved next to impossible.
A young woman, acting as his private secretary, repeatedly announced
that the pianist never spoke to reporters. Told that news had leaked
out about his forthcoming U.S. tour, she quickly denied the report.
However, some hours later, she telephoned to say that he would grant a
brief interview.



"Yes, I will come to America, but only on the condition that a
suitable piano can be found for me." said Michelangeli, who received
me in the green room of the Vienna Concert Hall.


"You see, for me, playing on exactly the right instrument is
everything. The fact is, the piano situation today is horrendous -
it's not a laughing matter. I've even given up traveling with my own
piano, because all pianos, even the so-called best, are of very poor
quality. I consider this a tragedy, and if this goes on, I may give up
playing altogether."



Michelangeli chose to stand throughout our interview. A tall, lean
man with dark, brooding eyes, a drooping moustache and shoulder-length
black hair, he spoke in a monotone, suggesting some deep and hidden
depression. Standing rooted in one spot, he continually kept his eyes
averted from his interviewer. Asked to speak on the subject of piano
playing, Michelangeli kept silent for several minutes.


"The pianist should not express himself. The principal thing - the
most essential thing is to enter the spirit of the composer. It is
what I tried to instill in all the pianists who have come to study
with me. The trouble with today's younger pianists is their fixation
on their own personality. This is a pitfall, and it will lead them
nowhere. What's important is to abandon oneself to the thoughts and
ideas of the man who conceived the music. To learn the literature is
only the beginning. A pianist's true personality will emerge only when
he has made deep contact with the composer. Only when the composer
possesses the pianist can one think about making music."




How has Michelangeli achieved the tone and quality of his own
playing?
"As a boy, I heard very great pianists perform, and they made an
impression on me. But I've forgotten them all. I recall them
occasionally, as in a dream. But very early on, I stopped listening to
other pianists. I withdrew into myself and began studying on my own.
To begin with, I did not like the piano at all. I found it far too
percussive. And so, I studied the organ and the violin. Out of these
studies, I found my own way of playing the piano. I discovered that
the sounds made by the organ and the violin could be translated into
pianistic terms. If you speak of my tone, then you must think not of
the piano but of a combination of the violin and the organ.


Asked to comment on his refusal to play in Italy, Michelangeli grew
visibly tense.
"It bores me to play in Italy. Of course, I've played there in the
past, and I'm often asked to play there. But it doesn't interest me in
the least. I've not played in Italy for 10 years, and I need not tell
you why."



While Michelangeli's repertory is vast, there are certain composers
he will not touch, notably Bach.



"I only play Bach on the organ, though never in public. Oh, I've
played some piano transcriptions, but that was just for myself and for
the fun of it. In any case, Bach should only be played on the organ or
the harpsichord. Now that there are so many harpsichordists, it's
absurd to play Bach on the piano. The piano cannot supply the
necessary registrations, and they are essential. So, let us leave Bach
to the harpsichordists."



The pianist, considered one of the world's great pedagogues has
abandoned teaching.



"When I had my own Academy, I would teach up to 30 pianists in one
day. But I've stopped teaching. I wanted to teach in my own special
way. It was a thing of fantasy. The situation and the ambience had to
be just right, and it isn't anymore. At the time, it was a way of life
for me. Finally, it tired me out, and I cannot work only to maintain a
school. Besides, teaching should be a full-time occupation, and now
I'm done with it. I must say, some of the best pianists of the current
generation came to work with me. But some were afraid to think!"


Turning once more to his own playing, Michelangeli claimed that
performing before audiences held no special magic for him.


"I do not play for others - only for myself and in the service of
the composer.
- It's no matter to me whether) there's an audience
or not. When I sit at the keyboard, I am lost. And I think of what I
play, and of the sound that comes forth, which is a product of the
mind. Today's young musicians are afraid to think. They do everything
in order not to think. Animals are better off. At least they possess
instinct. Man has lost his instincts - he has lost contact with
himself. Before an artist can communicate anything, he must first face
himself. He must know who he is. Only then can he dare to make music!"