Yunchan Lim is 20 today. 20! Two years ago, Lim became the youngest person ever to win the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, at the age of 18. Most recent information indicates that he is currently a student at the New England Conservatory of Music, but he’s already playing recitals at Carnegie Hall and appearing as soloist with the world’s great orchestras. He’s not old enough to legally take a drink, but he can play Liszt’s “Transcendental Etudes” like nobody else.
His Cliburn final round performance of the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 3 has been viewed on YouTube over 14 million times.
Yesterday, though I labored heroically against the effects of Guinness and corned beef and cabbage, before I knew it, it was time to watch “The Quiet Man.” And as a result, I’m now the last person on the internet to report on the death of Byron Janis.
Janis, one-time Horowitz pupil, dynamo of the keyboard, who played through excruciating pain due to arthritis, forced to retire because of the effects of surgery, only to rise again, died on Thursday at the age of 95.
Van Cliburn received all the glory – and a ticker tape parade on Broadway – for his surprise victory at the first Tchaikovsky International Piano Competition in Moscow in 1958, but Janis was just as important, as a cultural ambassador to the Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War. His first recital there took place just after the Soviets had shot down the U-2 spy plane and Gary Powers was imprisoned. According to Janis, the hostility in the hall was palpable with no applause and the audience chanting, “U-2! U-2! U-2!” But by intermission, they were on their feet applauding and afterwards, people approached the stage with tears in their eyes. “… What I did was important because it showed how music could change people’s feelings,” Janis observed in a 2017 interview with Vantage Music.
Cliburn’s shadow extended to the recording studio, in terms of which concertos his rivals were permitted to record and when. Of course, this was still in the early days of stereo, with every pianist eager to test their mettle against the standard repertoire, and the major labels all vying for a place of honor on America’s hi-fi systems.
What’s astonishing is how many truly spectacular American pianists emerged at the time: off the top of my head, in addition to Cliburn and Janis, there were Leon Fleisher, Gary Graffman, John Browning, Eugene Istomin, Julius Katchen, Abbey Simon, Leonard Pennario. And that’s to say nothing of the international competition. A veritable embarrassment of virtuoso riches!
In his prime, Janis possessed the jaw-dropping technique of an idiosyncratic fire-eater. But this was harnessed to an unerring sense of lyricism and line. His recordings from the 1950s and ‘60s, especially, are thrilling in their spontaneity.
“A lot of young pianists work about eight hours a day on their technique, but they lose their sense of music – their musicality disappears because they are so focused on playing the right notes,” Janis observed, in that same interview with Vantage Music. “Musically, if it’s always the same, it’s not ‘perfect.’ If it isn’t different every time, you aren’t human, and these composers were very human. Chopin changed things all the time. The danger is, with too much freedom, people begin to do anything with it, good or bad. But ‘perfection’ is a dead state.”
His struggles with arthritis and its treatment sent him into retirement and depression for a few years, but he clawed his way back to the concert stage to mark the 50th anniversary of his debut at Carnegie Hall in 1998.
In 1967, Janis identified some lost Chopin manuscripts. And he did so again, in 1973 – the same pieces, in different versions, on two separate continents!
Interestingly, he was also a songwriter who wooed Gary Cooper’s daughter.
At whatever stage of his career, Janis demonstrated, time and again, a remarkable intuition when it came to teasing notes on a page into sustained passages of brilliance and even grandeur. His performances, as his life, defied many obstacles to reveal unanticipated vistas.
There’s an article about Ruth Slenczynska, believed to be the last living pupil of Sergei Rachmaninoff, in today’s Washington Post. Slenczynska, who turned 99 on January 15th, now makes her home in Hershey, PA.
I love her recollection of Rachmaninoff’s first impression of her, when she met him in Paris at the age of 9. “This very tall man opened the door and looked down at me. He pointed at me with his long finger and said, ‘THAT plays the piano?’”
If you’re a classical music nut, the Internet Algorithm Overlords may have introduced you to Colette Maze. Maze amazed with her videos of centenarian keyboard dexterity and grace as likely the oldest pianist ever to record. Maze died this week at the age of 109. Her last record was released earlier this year.
In 1929, at the age of 15, she entered the École normale de musique de Paris to study with Alfred Cortot and Nadia Boulanger. Alfred Cortot! This woman was living history. She continued playing daily right up to the very end, the better to maintain her memory. An amazing feat.
The longest-lived pianist I had previously been aware of was one-time Philadelphian Leo Ornstein (founder of the now-defunct Ornstein School of Music). Ornstein, who also gained notoriety as an avant-garde composer, died in 2002 at the age of 106. I have no idea if he was still playing up to that time. He certainly was not recording.
In 2017, I mused about Ornstein’s unlikely resurrection as a video game character. You can read the post here:
Jenő Jandó, the pianist who rose to international fame for his prolific efforts on behalf of the Naxos label, has died. Jandó leaves behind many sound-to-excellent recordings of works by Bach, Haydn, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, Liszt, Chopin, Bartók, and others. When you saw Jandó’s name, you knew you could buy with confidence.
At its inception described as a super-budget label, Naxos was able to attract plenty of buyers looking to build or fill-out their classical music libraries at a fraction of the cost it would take to assemble a shelf full of identical repertoire from the majors. Many of the performers at the beginning were unknown musicians and ensembles from East-Central Europe.
The model met with some condescension at the start, as surely they couldn’t compete with costlier alternatives on the majors? Jandó was among those who rose to the challenge and helped sell the idea that just because an album was inexpensive didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t good. And they only got better.
Jandó was a professor at the Franz Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest. Like Glenn Gould, apparently, he had a habit of singing when he played. He was able to get around this by putting an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
He recorded over 60 albums for Naxos, as solo instrumentalist, concerto soloist, and collaborative chamber musician. Among these was a complete set of the Beethoven piano sonatas. He also recorded for the Hungaroton label.
Jenő Jandó was 71-years-old. Köszönöm, maestro, and R.I.P.
Jandó plays Beethoven
Jandó and traditional performers illuminate Bartók
