Aaron Rosand, Ruggiero Ricci, Sherry Kloss, and Erick Friedman in Concert on DVD

My friend Sherry Kloss sent me a newly-released 4-DVD-set of concerts from the Jascha Heifetz Society’s 2000 and 2001 concert series at Azusa Pacific University in Azusa, California. The DVDs contain full-length recitals played by Sherry Kloss, Ruggerio Ricci, Erick Friedman, and Aaron Rosand. I thought I’d share a bit about them here.

There are times during Sherry Kloss’ recital, particularly during Heifetz’s transcription of Debussy’s “La Chevelure,” where she sounds remarkably like her teacher. It’s partly because she is playing on the Tononi violin that he willed to her in 1980, and it’s partly because she spent many years as his teaching assistant at USC. It’s the instrument that Heifetz used for the first part of his career. He knew that Sherry would do good things to honor his memory and preserve his legacy, and he was certainly right.

She begins her recital (with pianist Ralph Albertstrom) with a Heifetz transcription of a G-minor Sonata by Christoph Willibald Gluck. I couldn’t find any source for this transcription. Gluck wrote very little in the way of pure instrumental music, and though he did write six triosonatas, none of them happens to be in G minor. It also doesn’t really sound like Gluck. I wonder if Heifetz might have been pulling a “Kreisler” with this transcription (he might just have written the piece himself). Kloss follows the Gluck with a lovely performance of a Beethoven Sonata that she studied with Heifetz.

The rest of her program has Ned Rorem’s 1954 Violin Sonata, a not-necessarily-violinistic piece that takes a second hearing to appreciate. There’s some heartfelt music in it, particularly in the third movement, “A Funeral.” This DVD recording seems to be the only recording of the piece. It shares some spirit with Cyril Scott’s “Tallahasse Suite,” a piece that Heifetz recorded in the 1930s with Emanuel Bay. Nobody has recorded it since, until now.

Kloss incorporates several Heifetz encores (all Heifetz transcriptions) between her longer pieces, and plays an impressive "Sabre Dance," breaking what looks like half a dozen bow hairs in the process, and she ends her recital with Heifetz’s transcription of “The Sea Murmurs” by Castelnuovo-Tedesco, which is the way Heifetz ended his final recital.

This set also offers the last full recital of solo music that Ruggerio Ricci played. At 80, Ricci's hearing is not what it once was, but his memory is still astounding. He is a tiny man--perhaps only five feet tall, but he seems to fill the whole stage, and he commands total attention. He plays the Bach D minor Partita without repeats, and there are times when his intonation is uneven. The movements preceding the Chaconne unfortunately seem rather perfunctory, but he seems to care a great deal about playing the Chaconne, and there is a great deal to learn from his interpretation. The lapses in intonation are terribly sad, but he is still a physical marvel.

Watching Ricci play his transcription of Tarrega’s "Ricuerdos De La Alhambra" is fascinating. Watching (and listening to) his fourth finger do left-hand pizzicato, and watching his bow bounce in the upper half is a rare treat (one of my students said, “You and I put together couldn’t do that”). And then there’s the way he plays Wieniawski staccato etude, which is truly incredible. It just makes me laugh out loud to watch him play it, because there is nothing else I can do: there are no words to describe the supernatural-ness of it. How can anybody play the fiddle like this? Pagainini’s “Nel cor piu” is more of the same, and then some, and then some more, and some more. There is nothing perfunctory when he plays this repertoire (and happily very little that’s out of tune). Ricci is at his best when on the figurative violinistic high wire, doing flips while juggling lit firecrackers and swallowing swords. And he does it with no sign of difficulty. Nobody can touch him when it comes to this virtuoso solo repertoire. Nobody could touch him when he was younger, and nobody could touch him at 82. Not even Heifetz.

The only time I have ever seen Erick Friedman is on the Heifetz masterclass tapes from the 1960s. He was an extremely tall young man in his 20s. In 2000 he was an extremely tall man of 65--quite a shock. He also talks to the audience at some length, and with a great deal of humility.

I like his performance of the Grieg G Major Sonata (with Ralph Albertstrom) very much. After stating that nobody played French music like Heifetz, he plays the Faure Sonata with the same free rhythm and the same feeling of always being ahead of the beat that makes the Heifetz recording of that piece difficult for me to enjoy. His homage is genuine, but perhaps it’s a bit too genuine for me. Friedman plays the rest of the program--the Air from the Goldmark Concerto Paganini’s 20th Caprice (transcribed by Kreisler), Sarasate’s "Scherzo Tarantelle," Heifetz’s transcription of Debussy’s “Beau Soir” (Friedman's only Heifetz transcription), and Saint-Saens’ "Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso"--from memory, so the camera can get great shots of his right hand and his left hand. Watching him play would be a great guide for tall violinists who have a whole different set of angles (at least a different set from the other violinists here) that they have to contend with in order to play the violin well.

I must confess that I have spent the most time watching and listening to Aaron Rosand’s recital, because watching him and listening to him makes me feel so good. He was 73 in 2000 (I have heard that he’s still going great guns in his mid 80s).

Simply watching and listening to Aaron Rosand play the violin has improved the way I play the violin. He is completely comfortable with the instrument, and he’s completely comfortable being expressive. His expression is so true, so natural, and it is so powerful that its impression lasts for hours and hours. Days even.

Yesterday I had a student who was not interested in using his fourth finger. He was also not terribly interested in holding is fiddle properly. I decided to play him Aaron Rosand’s performance of the Vivaldi-Respighi D major Sonata (now I finally know who wrote that piece, because it never sounded much like Vivaldi to me). I played my student a bit of the Bach Chaconne, and pointed out Rosand’s beautiful position, and his million dollar fourth finger (which is worth at least as much as his instrument, the 1741 ex-Kochanski Guarneri del Jesu). You wouldn’t believe the instant difference watching and listening to Rosand made in my student’s playing. My student understood what he needed to do, and he did it immediately. Rosand showed him exactly what is important, and why.

Rosand and his accompanist, Gerald Robbins, include five Heifetz transcriptions on their recital, including the Preludio XV by Vale, “Ao pe’ d fogueira,” which refuses to leave my head. How somebody could appear to be completely comfortable playing Ravel’s Tzigane is beyond the usual limits of my imagination.

The hall Rosand is playing in has more light than the hall used for the other recitals. He plays his entire recital from memory, so the camera can get great close action shots of his left hand and his bow arm.

The Jascha Heifetz Society hasn't yet updated the link for this on their website, but you can get a copy by sending a check to: Jascha Heifetz Society, P.O. Box 11656, Marina Del Rey, CA 90295. It's priced at $54.95 plus $4.00 in postage. It isn't being sold by a commercial entity, so the price basically reflects the cost of making the DVDs.

Ruggiero Ricci Encores: Bach, Paganini, and Tarrega-Ricci

In preparation for writing a blog post about a Jascha Heifetz Society 4-DVD set of concerts played by Ruggiero Ricci (his last performance of music for unaccompanied violin), Aaron Rosand, Sherry Kloss, and Erick Friedman, I have been gawking at Ruggiero Ricci as a younger man.

He gave three encores when he played in Florence in 1985. Here's the first and the second:



and here's his third:

Violinists' Speaking Voices

This WQXR radio interview from February 2, 1955 was part of a celebration of Fritz Kreisler's 80th birthday. Before the Kreisler interview begins there are audio birthday greetings from Mischa Elman, Yehudi Menuhin, Nathan Milstein, Erica Morini, Joseph Szigeti, Ruggiero Ricci, and Isaac Stern. What an ear-opening experience it is to hear the speaking voices of these violinists, particularly after being so familiar with their violinist voices. I had no idea that Isaac Stern's voice could be so rich and mellow, and I noticed that Menuhin's voice sounds significantly more American than it sounded when he became older. Don't you just love the way Kreisler pronounces "works" as "woiks," and "first" as "foist?"

Augustin Hadelich and Orion Weiss Concert from the Library of Congress October 21, 2021

I enjoyed listening to this program from yesterday immensely. I hope you will too.

Claude Debussy: Sonata in G minor for violin and piano, L.140

Isaac Albéniz: El Puerto, from Book 1 of Iberia, for solo piano

Francisco Tárrega/Ruggiero Ricci: Recuerdos de la Alhambra for solo violin

Pablo de Sarasate: Spanish Dances, op. 22/1: Romanza Andaluza

Ludwig van Beethoven: Sonata no. 9 in A major for piano and violin, op. 47, “Kreutzer”

The Saw Lady: More on Joshua Bell's Busking

The comment referring to the Saw Lady's thoughts about Joshua Bell's busking skills that is on my last post deserves a thoughtful response (and a link). Yes, Bell is an excellent violinist and an excellent performer, but as the Saw Lady points out, successful busking takes specific busking skills.

Back in my busking days I would always choose a spot that created the effect of a stage: something to frame the "musical event." Bell stood in a hallway, stacking the deck against himself immediately. Come to think about it, stopping in front of where he was playing might have been difficult given the traffic pattern. Then there were the extremely-live acoustics. People could probably hear him all over the station, so there was really no reason for people to stand and watch him in order to listen.

Also, his choice of repertoire was not the best. He chose the extremes of darkness and brightness for his experiment. A serious piece like the Bach Chaconne, especially when it is well-played on an excellent fiddle, can put passers-by off because of its intensity: it never lets up. D-minor is also, even for people who don't have perfect pitch, a key that is riddled with darkness, especially when played on the violin. The E-major Gavotte en Roudeau that he played had a great deal of bright "in your face" intensity (it always does when played well). In the wild acoustics of a metro station, that kind of intensity can actually get kind of annoying.

On my best street-playing days I felt myself and my companions at one with the rhythm of the movement of the people on the street. It was often a wonderful experience. Bell was clearly not responding to the people in the station, except for the person who stopped to listen. He was kind of performing (but he also ended up kind of sounding like he was practicing). Maybe if his concentration had been geared towards drawing people in his "movable audience" he might have had more success. Who knows?

I think that he might have gotten more people to stop with lighter solo music like the Paganini 24th Caprice, the Bach G-minor Fugue, the Locatelli Harmonic Labyrinth, the Tartini "Art of Bowing," or the Tarrega-Ricci "Recuerdos de la Alhambra." Perhaps he could have tried the last movement of the Mendelssohn Concerto, the last movement of the Beethoven Concerto, or a movement from a concerto by Paganini.

Unfortunately the experiment can't be duplicated now that Bell's busking moment has had major press. The metro station might get some visits from curious Washington Post readers hoping for a repeat performance, and that spot might be taken by a real busker now that it has been written about. I hope that person has a better audience than Joshua Bell got, and I hope that s/he makes sure to get a permit.

Related post: Playing Music on the Street

Tags: Joshua Bell, Busking, Musical Saw, Bach Chaconne

The Last Roses of Summer

It doesn't seem that long ago that playing Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst's "Last Rose of Summer," the sixth of his Polyphonic Studies, was something rare for a violinist to be able to do, particularly in public. I'm showing my preference for this interpretation by the young and new-on-the-scene Josef Spacek in this post, but you are welcome to weigh in with your thoughts!



Here are performances by Hilary Hahn, and Mateja Marinlovic (it's very good, but difficult to listen to because of the recording equipment). Also, for your amusement, here are Gidon Kremer, Midori, Ricci, Julian Sitkovetsky, and for those who like their virtuoso fiddle players really young, the 12-year-old Maxim Vengerov .

If you want a look at the music, you can see it here.

Memorizing Music

Mrs. Hansberry, my High School English teacher, told the class that after not playing for years she could play Chopin on the piano because of muscle memory. That was the first time I ever heard the term "muscle memory," and since other forms of memory didn't seem to work for me, I thought I'd give it a go. I set out right away to develop muscle memory. I practiced mindlessly during most of my waking hours that were not taken up by school, and got my fingers to obediently play scales, arpeggios, etudes, and pieces without incorporating much in the way of thought.

I etched these patterns into my reptilian brain so efficiently that I still could, a quarter-century after identifying as a flutist, whip through the whole "Baker warmup," and a handful of orchestral excerpts. My "interpretations" of music that I played from memory were one-dimensional. I didn't realize this one-dimensionality until I sat in on a lesson that Julius Baker was giving to Sandra Church, a fellow Juilliard student a few years older than I. Baker preferred the masterclass format for lessons, so by listening to other people have lessons we were supposed to learn something. Sandra Church played the Mozart G major Concerto in a way that was completely new and fresh. She played the same notes that I played, but she made phrases that I had worn down through endless repetition sound like they had brand-new tires, a full tank of gas, a back seat free of debris, and a spiffy exterior.

I couldn't figure out why her Mozart sounded like, well, Mozart. Sandy played the piece in a far more elegant way than my teacher did. I was hoping that eventually I would learn how to sound like Sandy, but I had no idea where to start, and nothing in the way of help. I eventually found out that changing instruments was an effective way to undo the damage that I had caused by exercising my muscle memory too much.

Nobody could diagnose my problem. Nobody knew that the kinetic and intellectual parts of my musical being were so disconnected. I did develop a kind of musical intuition in order to bridge the mysterious gap myself, which helped me to grow in other ways, I suppose, but it did not help me to become musically connected to the flute music I had simply practiced too much.

I switched to violin at thirty-two and had to build a physical technique from scratch. There was so much to pay attention to physically: so much movement, so much figuring out distances, and so much in the way of intellectual stimulation that I managed to avoid the play-by-rote method that got me into my musical flute prison. As a beginning violinist I consciously used written music as a way to experience the physicality of the music, even when playing scales and arpeggios. As a result of not memorizing on the violin and the viola, I am able to return to a piece of music day after day and have a new experience. I can continue to learn more from the pieces I have been playing for decades. I can concentrate on matters of sound, form, and bow control while I practice scales.

Some people memorize music visually, which I suppose means they are "reading" the music that is imprinted on the visual part of their brain. I have never been able to do this consistently, though I do tend to remember where a passage I am looking for is on the page. Some people memorize music kinetically with a connection to the inner ear. And then there are people who memorize music intellectually, keeping track of the names of the chords, and, I suppose the trajectory of the phrases.

I think that people who can memorize music intellectually have an advantage. I have tried, but I find that it doesn't stay in my memory for very long. And I never feel the freedom that some people speak of when they play from memory.

Aaron Rosand writes about the way he memorizes music. He does it visually:

Be honest with everything on the printed page. When beginning to learn a work, repeat a section many times while keeping your eyes on the page. As soon as you possibly can, close your eyes and play it from memory. Unknowingly, your eyes have already photographed the music. If you lose a note, open your eyes and look again at the page. Repeat the process until you can play it in your sleep.

He writes about memorizing by an aurally stimulated kinetic response (which is different from mechanical muscle memory):

Memorization is a process of hearing each note before you play it followed by motor reflex. You cannot fully express yourself in an interpretation if your eyes are riveted on the music.

He believes that memorization is the key to interpretation.

Memorization is the key to interpretation. The music must become a part of you if you are completely immersed in what you play. Remain focused on expressing what your inner ear wants to hear. Trust your memory and do not become preoccupied with fingerings and technical problems. Repetitive practice will do its part and motor reflex will take over. Concentrate on your bowing. The bow is your paint brush and capable of providing all of the textures and nuances required if sensitively employed. It is also your breathing process and breathes life into every note that you play. Imagine how gratifying it can be when you can control your sound and characterise your music making with the fingers of your right hand. Interpretation and memorization are within your grasp.

Aaron Rosand's friend Berl Senofsky once told me a story about playing the Bach G minor Fugue from memory and ending up in the A minor Fugue (which made his father furious). A friend told me a story about getting a call from his teacher Ruggero Ricci (a friend of both Rosand and Senofsky, bu the way), who was playing the Bach D minor Partita in a concert. He didn't have the music with him, and he couldn't remember the names and order of the movements!

I play the Sonatas and Partitas on both violin and viola, so it is very easy for me, if I try to play from memory, to find myself playing a fifth lower on the violin or a fifth higher on the viola and getting totally confused. Thank goodness I have no need to play from memory!