Our society tends to view differences as a problem, believing that connection and alignment require a 100% match. We see the same concept demonstrated in interior design when matches colour palettes to the extent that the atmosphere becomes monochromatic. Spaces are designed this way can lead people to more readily believe that they need to be identical in order to get along, rather than being able to harmoniously connect with those who are different: the ‘match’ in the space makes anything contrasting seem like a misfit. The atmosphere does not support integrated individual expression.
Feng Shui speaks to the Five Elements that make up all physical matter: Fire, Earth, Metal, Water, and Wood. While there are various combinations that are more supportive than others, the entire cycle coexists harmoniously. While Water and Fire have an opposing relationship (water puts out fire), there is an excitement that gets created when black and red colours are combined in design. However, if they are not offset with the other elements, the contrast builds into antagonism and division; bringing metals, earthy tones, and lush greenery helps the two opposing elements find their common ground and connect to the greater nourishment that they all provide and receive from one another.
Image via Restoration Hardware
I’ve found a bit disconcerting the level to which many high-end chains and designers emphasize a ‘neutral’ palette with very little contrast or colour. One unintended consequence of this approach is emotional flatlining, where the highs and lows are cut in favour of perceived ‘safety’. It is remarkably difficult to find images in design magazines or online that show spaces designed with more than two elements balanced throughout the space without a garish blend of colours resembling a Rubik’s Cube. Isn’t it interesting that our society is simultaneously having a challenge with finding harmonious connection between people of opposing viewpoints.
When spaces are tastefully balanced with the Five Elements, as well as with Yin and Yang polarities (dark-light, low-high, curved-angular, and so on), the environment becomes a space that incubates the harmonious interplay of seemingly opposing factors. That which is different can peacefully coexist with and in fact be a much-needed complement: what connects is more important than what differs, and each supports the other.
A case in point: a university administrator attending a presentation I was giving to designers, architects, and space custodians spoke to a successful classroom design that incorporated seating with multiple colours. He stated that students would go to class early to choose a seat in their preferred colour. I noted that the varied colour palette provided choice and allowed them to highlight their individuality in conjunction with the space, when academic environments can often leave students feeling anonymous and lacking in choice. The fact that these students wanted to show up early for class speaks volumes to how the integrated design made them feel welcome and encouraged more engaging and engaged behaviour – how often do students generally choose to show up early for class?
Guildford Town Centre by MCM Interiors Ltd.
Like everything in life (and feng shui), it’s about balance. Applying these principles does not mean you can’t have a colour scheme that highlights two elements to make a statement – but within that framework, providing balance with other elements brings even more life to the space. Just like some environments are hot and others are cold, some are lush and others are more arid, each space can have its flavour and atmosphere … but when the full cycle of natural balance is present contextually, the space is integrated beyond the immediate ‘statement’. This integrity supports connectivity, ease, and alignment amongst those who are present.
Cover image of Hyatt Vancouver by MCM Interiors Ltd.
March 19 is the anniversary of Dinu Lipatti’s birth – though as was recently discovered, Romania was using a different calendar at the time, so that date today would in fact be April 1st. Nevertheless, as this day is still the pianist’s official birthday, I thought this might be a good time to create a single page with some updates about Lipatti happenings, including links to some new online media.
A few weeks ago, I uploaded the three solo works that Lipatti had played at his February 7, 1950 Zurich concert that featured the Chopin First Concerto. While it has been popularly (and quite logically) believed that these were encores, quite against convention these three Chopin solos were programmed in the concert and played after intermission. This exemplary transfer from the challenging source material is features these performances complete and in the best possible sound with the available tapes and discs:
Lipatti’s playing had gone through some transformation in the three years since his first Columbia recordings, with more expansive phrasing and a deeper emotional expressiveness. On March 1 and 4, 1947 the pianist would make his only large-scale solo recording at Abbey Road Studios in London, the Chopin B Minor Sonata. The performance was a huge hit, winning the Grand Prix du Disque and being universally acclaimed by critics and amateurs alike. However, most LP transfers of the beautifully recorded 78s have muffled Lipatti’s thoroughly grand playing, restricting his tonal colours and dynamic range. The best issued transfer is still Bryan Crimp’s magnificent work from his APR label 1999 CD featuring the pianist’s complete 1947 Abbey Road recordings: Crimp was able to produce vinyl pressings from the original metal masters, resulting in clean surfaces and full-bodied sound greater than any other transfer thus far released.
The most famous event in Lipatti’s life was his last recital, a September 16, 1950 performance in Besancon that was recorded and broadcast on French radio and eventually released in 1957. Both the event and the recording have become the stuff of legend, the incredible performance being hailed as a classic of the gramophone. While the recording has been regularly reissued, all subsequent releases have been based on the first transfer issued by EMI in 1957. Solstice Records in France has finally gone back to the master broadcast tape to produce what is the best sounding and first complete release of the broadcast, including all spoken announcements, audience noise, and warmup arpeggios played by the pianist (for some reason, EMI released only 2 sets of arpeggios out of the 4). Included in the production is a massive 50-page booklet for which I produced a 3600-word text; additional text and documentation is provided by French radio archivists, and there are many unpublished photos, including some taken during the recital itself. You can order the CD directly from Solstice in France at this link.
A taste of the beautiful warmups before the Schubert, with the rest of the performance taken from the EMI CD – the new Solstice one sounds vastly superior than this:
Amazingly, despite so many years having passed since his death, new Lipatti recordings are being found, with five short works having been released on the Marston Records label’s Volume 1 of Landmarks of Recorded Pianism. Last year in New York, I was in Jed Distler’s studio to record a few episodes of his radio program Between The Keys, and our first episode tells the full story of the discovery of these incredibly precious recordings and provides the only online opportunity to hear a couple of them (two works by Brahms):
Today the next episode will be aired, which will feature some Lipatti performances as well as playing by two other pianists close to my heart, Marcelle Meyer and Jorge Bolet. Check my Hearthis page for an upload that will take place after the broadcast (this posting will later be edited to include the link here).
Two years ago on March 19, for the 100th anniversary of the pianist’s birth, I was a guest on Gary Lemco’s radio program The Music Treasury out of Stanford, California. I uploaded the broadcast to YouTube with relevant photographs and documents to give the tribute a more visual dimension:
Almost 70 years after his death, Dinu Lipatti is still an inspiration to musicians and piano fans, and more is in the works to make his artistry more widely known and available. Stay tuned for more details!
It is truly astounding how some of the most amazing pianists are not as well remembered as some of their colleagues. It is a fact that while many great artists had notable careers, others did not pursue aspirations to tour internationally or record extensively. And yet the names of some very popular performers can easily fade from public consciousness after they die, particularly if their recordings become harder to come by (if any were made at all).
Victor Schiøler, a remarkable pianist whose name I first encountered in the last few years thanks to the internet, was a Danish musician who studied with two of the greatest legends of the piano, had a noteworthy career, and made many recordings. However, it was Schiøler’s own pupil Victor Borge who became the ‘great Dane’ of the piano, known the world over for his brilliant musical comedy, although when playing seriously (which he did on rare occasions), Borge was capable of the most exquisite pianism – no doubt due at least in part to the training he received from Schiøler. The comedian’s fame would eclipse his great teacher’s position as Denmark’s pre-eminent pianist, although Schiøler was quite well-known and very respected internationally in his lifetime, and is still remembered in his native land.
He was born into a musical family on April 7, 1899. His mother Augusta Schiøler was a pianist and her son’s first teacher, and his father was composer and conductor Victor Bendix. After beginning his studies with his mother, the young Victor would train with two of the most revered pianists of the time, among the most admired pupils of the great Leschetizky: Ignaz Friedman and Artur Schnabel. Schiøler’s debut took place in 1914 (he was only 15 years old) and he began touring as a soloist in 1919 – he also worked domestically as a conductor, appearing on the podium for the first time in 1923 and being conductor and musical advisor at the Royal Opera in Copenhagen from 1930 to 1932.
Schiøler toured internationally to great acclaim—America in 1948-49, Africa in 1951, and Indochina and Hong Kong in 1952-53—but his career was not limited to music. In addition to concertizing and recording, he also received a degree in medicine and practiced psychiatry! He had long been interested in medicine but had delayed studying it in order to follow Schnabel’s advice that he give concerts in Germany. When he stopped playing in that country due to Hitler’s ascent to power in 1933, he began the formal study of medicine. He spent the last two years of the War in Sweden, and would not return to Germany until after the War.
By his own admission, Schiøler had ‘a tendency to have too many irons in the fire – irons of the most different kinds.’ In addition to his concert and recording career, obtaining his degree in medicine, and professional psychiatric practice, Schiøler worked in other arenas of the musical scene: he was chairman of a committee to help performing artists with matters of contracts, royalties, and copyright. In his later years, he had a TV program in Denmark called ‘From the World of the Piano,’ and chose to limit his concert activities: as he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his family, he travelled only if his wife and son could accompany him.
He died in 1967, not long before his 68th birthday, leaving behind a significant number of recordings spanning a four-decade period. His first disc dates back to 1924 for the Nordisk Polyphon label – Chopin’s Berceuse and Valse Op.64 No.2 – and in 1925 he made his first record for HMV in England. Over the years he also recorded for Columbia, Sonora, and TONO, with several discs recorded by HMV and many of his performances being issued internationally on Mercury and Capitol.
His 1945 recording of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1 on the TONO label would for a time be the best-selling classical record in Denmark. It was apparently the first Danish recording of a piano concerto, but its popularity was largely due to the opening of the work being used in a Barbett razor blade commercial screened at all Danish cinemas around the time, leading the theme to be locally known as the ‘Barbett Concerto.’ (The first record of the 4-disc set sold about ten times as many copies as the entire set as a result of its use in the commercial.)
With several hours of recordings on a variety of international labels under his belt, Schiøler ought to be better known today, and yet with the exception of the release of two double-disc sets on the Danacord label from his home country, he has been largely ignored by the recording industry. All of his performances feature the qualities that are the signs of a truly great pianist: a rich vibrant sonority, a mindfully shaped singing line, attentive balance of harmonic support in lower registers (his chords are also beautifully voiced), rubato coordinated with musical architecture, and refined use of dynamic layering and pedalling. His recordings reveal style and individuality but never at the expense of the music – he seems to have always brought dignified discernment to his interpretations.
This 1929 recording of Schiøler playing two Scarlatti Sonatas arranged by Tausig – the once-popular Pastorale and Capriccio – captures the pianist’s beautifully burnished line in the treble register, precise and even articulation, judicious use of the pedal add an extra sheen to tonal colours, and marvellous sense of rhythm.
A fine example of Schiøler’s unerring good taste is this 1942 recording of Chopin’s famous A-Flat Major Polonaise Op.53, a work that is often delivered with bombast and self-centred virtuosity. In his reading, Schiøler does not shy away from power while emphasizing the nobility of conception and beauty of Chopin’s legendary work. What a full-bodied sonority, incisive rhythmic pulse, and transparent textures! Note how the bass sings through with great presence yet without obscuring the content of upper registers… superb!
Schiøler’s 1951 HMV recording of Liszt’s Piano Concerto No.1 (available on the first Danacord retrospective) features the same tasteful but thrilling playing, the Danish pianist’s sumptuous sonority, refined dynamic layers, and elegant phrasing all serving the musical content while still delivering excitement where the score calls for it.
Schiøler’s approach to the classical repertoire is no less mesmerizing, his glorious recording of Beethoven’s Sonata in C Minor Op.111 being a particularly fine example of his refined and noble artistry. His majestic phrasing, varied tonal palette, subtle nuancing, and magnificent voicing are a wonder to behold: particularly appealing is his manner of letting the bass sonority sing loudly without being brash or overpowering, without ever obscuring the melodic content (as is the case in the Chopin Polonaise featured above).
This film footage of Hansen from Danish television is a wonderful opportunity to see the pianist in action – and to hear him speak (all the better if you understand Danish). In this tribute to Schubert, the pianist first accompanies singer Ib Hansen in a reading of Der Wanderer before giving a brief lecture and launching into his own performance of Schubert’s Wanderer-Fantasie. Throughout, Schiøler demonstrates the same attention to tonal beauty, clarity of articulation, poised voicing, and fluidity of phrasing that characterizes all of his recorded performances.
Thelatest double-disc set from Danacord includes the pianist’s glorious 1956 traversal of Schumann’s Carnaval, a magnificent reading that captures to perfection the composition’s varied moods, with his long singing line, poised voicing, rhythmic bite, and marvellously proportioned rubato.
While it is a shame that Schiøler is not as lionized as many of his contemporaries, we are fortunate that at least some of his recordings are available on CD and via YouTube, and one hopes that a complete reissue of this fine artist’s performances will one day be produced. He is most certainly an artist worth hearing again and again in his many hours of recordings, all demonstrating truly intelligent, insightful, inspired pianism.
The great Polish pianist Ignaz Friedman was born on this day in 1882. The highly individual interpreter was largely ignored by recording companies after his death in 1948: Columbia never issued a single LP (or CD) containing any of several hours’ worth of 78rpm discs he produced for the label. I first read about the artist in Harold C Schonberg’s classic tome The Great Pianists in the mid-1980s, when I first got into historical recordings, and dreamed of finding the Nocturne in E-Flat Op.55 No.2 that he wrote so poetically about; I would have to wait until Schonberg himself gave a lecture in my home town of Montreal in 1988 and played the performance… and naturally, nothing was the same thereafter. I soon after finally found a second-hand LP produced by Allan Evans containing some of the pianist’s legendary Chopin recordings… and eventually his discography would be issued with Evans’ diligence, on LP with Danacord and on CD with Pearl, with subsequent issues by a variety of companies, including Evans’ own Arbiter label.
One particularly remarkable Friedman memory is when I first visited Bryan Crimp, founder of the APR label, in May 1990. We went into his studio, which had massive speakers, and one of the discs we listened to was a transfer he had made of Friedman’s glorious reading of Chopin’s Impromptu No.2. I’ll never forget the experience of my body being awash in the waves of sound featuring that glorious tone, soaring phrasing, and magical pedal effects – truly an incredible experience.
Friedman’s playing is not for the faint of heart, particularly as the conception of Romanticism these days is much more sanitized than things actually were during that era and those that immediately followed it. The Polish pianist’s pianism is bold and impetuous, quixotic and evocative, individual in a way that can be startling to some listeners today… but truly today’s pianists are by and large individual in a much more self-centred way than was Friedman, despite the stated intention of respecting the score. When Friedman stretches a phrase, he is not just adjusting the timing but also the dynamic shading, tonal colour, and auric quality (via the pedal and touch), as well as its relationship with harmonic and other melodic elements – but modern ears tend to hear things along a single plane and not this multi-dimensional shift.
Particularly remarkable are Friedman’s legendary traversal of Chopin Mazurkas, which feature a rhythmic pulse and accenting that are completely different from the norm. Yet Friedman actually danced this folk song as a child in his native country, and Chopin was known to have insisted on particular accenting in mazurkas: Schonberg writes of an incident when Meyerbeer visited Chopin and the two ended up in a disagreement of the rhythmic element of his mazurkas, Meyerbeer saying he was playing it 2/4 and Chopin insisting it was 3/4. To those who find Friedman’s readings unsettling, it is worth considering: is there any guarantee that if by some miracle a recording of Chopin was found we would like it? And if not, what does that suggest about our tastes and preferences, when musicians and music lovers today speak so strongly about the need to respect the composer’s wishes and the score?
Here is an hour and twenty minutes of Friedman playing Chopin, including that amazing Impromptu and Nocturne, and those hair-raising (and eyebrow-raising) Mazurkas. I’m not saying everyone needs to love or even like these recordings – but it is worth listening multiple times, recognizing whatever inclination you might have towards a certain style (and *why)… and listening again with fresher ears. There is magic to be found here, and questions to sit with, even if there is no real answer.
With the New Year upon us, many people are inspired to turn over a new leaf and to motivate themselves to adopt new habits and behaviours. The use of affirmations – ‘positive’ statements that reflect a supportive way of thinking and being – is one commonly applied way to do change our thoughts and therefore behaviour. There are many greeting cards and posters with motivational sayings that are now commonly seen framed in offices and homes. While there is no doubt that what you think impacts your experience, there can be challenges with how affirmations are commonly used that impacts their effectiveness.
The choice of words in many affirmations can point to attractive concepts that are nevertheless not supportive. A popular one I’ve seen is Emily Dickinson’s quote “Dwell In Possibility”. Why would you want to do that? Don’t you want to get things done? Possibilities are great to explore, but if you want to take something from the world of possibility and then manifest something, you cannot continue to dwell in possibility.
Additionally, affirmations that use the imperative tense can also have unintended consequences, such as “Forgive” or “Do what you love.” The problem when faced with an ‘order’ like this (the imperative verb tense used here is telling you to do something) is that we often tend to resist commands: no one likes being told what to do, particularly at home… it triggers memories of a parent telling you to do what they think you should do. Additionally, this statement is affirming that we are not already doing this: if you were forgiving people in your life, you wouldn’t need to post a statement telling you to do so. So in fact, this affirmation reminds you that you are not naturally doing what you say you want to do.
I’ll never forget one consultation with a client who had opposite her bed a large banner that read, “Always believe that something wonderful is about to happen.” So she was being told that she needed to believe it (because she didn’t) and the statement stated that something wonderful was about to happen and therefore wasn’t happening now. When I brought this to her attention, she was aghast, as I had articulated her experience: she always felt that she was on the cusp of a breakthrough that never quite came…
So unfortunately affirmations can create the exact opposite from the intended consequences for which they are used. Their linguistic framework means the access point to our consciousness is restricted to mental language, which ties in with our belief system – the source of our limiting concepts. While words can help us over time to make shifts to broader emotional, spiritual, and physical states, they will not necessarily do so.
On the other hand, Feng Shui works by using subliminal affirmations in our surroundings: objects and images that create connections with desired states of being and thoughts. If a picture is worth a thousand words, the associations created from environmental stimuli can go a lot further than even the best-chosen words. Additionally, the colours, forms, and other connections created by these objects can work in subtler ways by bypassing the belief system’s linguistic centre and stimulating an emotional state that is consistent with the spiritual state we are looking to experience. A picture of a relaxing setting could work better than a poster that has words about being calm (we all probably know from experience that telling someone who is not calm to calm down rarely achieves that result!); an image of a person meditating is more powerful than something that says “Turn Inward” or “Trust Yourself.” A skilled Feng Shui consultant knows what kinds of images in what locations can help to stimulate supportive thoughts in specific areas of your life.
If you are going to use artwork that includes words, be mindful of what is being said. Often a single word – ideally referring to a state of being, like “Delight” or “Presence” – can work, but it’s better not to use single-word verbs like “Trust” or “Believe,” as these imply that you are not already doing that. Sentences are best chosen with caution – I prefer quotes that speak to a Truth as opposed to a command, such as a line from a poem or important text (ideally they will feature an image or be attractively written). If it has an image that catches your eye more than the text, it may help you to feel in the moment the state you wish to embody both now and in the future.
May your home speak to you in the layered languages of your experience.
Since my introduction to historical recordings in the mid-1980s, Edwin Fischer has been one of my favourite musicians. The Swiss pianist had famously made the first complete recording of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier in the 1930s and was known for his interpretations of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms.
Early in my research into the art and recordings of Dinu Lipatti (who had coached briefly with Fischer when the young Romanian arrived in Switzerland in 1943), I was introduced by another researcher (via correspondence) to London-based Roger Smithson, who was researching Fischer recordings. This was back in the day when one wrote actual letters overseas – there was no internet – and we had a very engaging correspondence, with Roger being a great help in introducing me to people and places I might contact in my attempt to locate unpublished Lipatti recordings. We would meet each time I visited London in the early 90s while on Lipatti research visits, and we maintained contact over the years.
Roger has continually been updating his discography of Fischer and recently offered to share his findings publicly. We met again in London in September 2018, along with Fischer’s pupil Gerald Kingsley, who has provided terrific insight to help with Roger’s research, and we discussed having the finished document detailing all of Fischer’s uploaded online – and it is now housed in this post (the link is at the bottom of the page).
Although Fischer made his debut during World War I, his first recording session was as late as May 1928 – when the pianist was 41 – at the Electrola studios in Berlin. However, this session yielded no published discs: that would have to wait until October 1931, a full three years later, at which he recorded this Händel Chaconne in G Major HWV 435. It was the first work put on disc at both of these sessions, and the issued 1931 recording has not been regularly rereleased. Here is, in a magnificent transfer directly from an original Victor pressing (effected by and kindly provided by Tom Jardine), Edwin Fischer’s first commercial recording:
Another wonderful and rarely released Händel recording is the Suite No.3 in D Minor, which captures Fischer’s vitality and robust pianism to perfection:
Fischer is particularly famous for having made the first complete account on records of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier (read here for more about the first aborted attempt with other pianists). Artur Schnabel was recording the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas funded by subscriptions to The Beethoven Society (records were produced once sufficient funds for each forthcoming volume had been collected), and a similar process was undertaken for Fischer’s traversal of the WTC. Fischer recorded the cycle at 17 sessions at EMI’s Abbey Road Studios (in addition to one session in Berlin that yielded no usable discs) between 1933 and 1936. The final result was five volumes of records:
Vol. 1 (7 records) Book 1: Preludes and Fugues Nos. 1 to 12
Vol. 2 (7 records) Book 1: Preludes and Fugues Nos.13 to 24
Vol. 3 (7 records) Book 2: Preludes and Fugues Nos. 1 to 10
Vol. 4 (7 records) Book 2: Preludes and Fugues Nos. 11 to 19
Vol. 5 (6 records) Book 2: Preludes and Fugues Nos. 20 to 24
(the final set includes the English Suite No.2 in A Minor played by Wanda Landowska on the harpsichord)
Here is the first of that massive undertaking of ‘The 48’ – although Fischer recorded this first Prelude & Fugue on April 25, 1933 when he began the cycle, all takes of the work made on that day were rejected in favour of this later attempt on September 12, 1933 (again, our thanks to Tom Jardine for his transfer):
While Fischer famously recorded three Bach Concerti from the keyboard in the 1930s (and, as the discography reveals, others that were not released), and his Mozart Concerto recordings are justly celebrated, his 1942 reading of the Haydn Concerto in D Major has received much less airplay: it was only issued twice (never with the parent record company) on LP and has had scant distribution on CD. This magnificent performance finds Fischer playing with great aplomb and vitality:
Roger Smithson’s discography covers not only studio recordings, both released and unreleased (there are some details about unissued studio recordings that are tantalizing indeed), but also all known surviving broadcast recordings. We are fortunate that Fischer lived into the tape era of the 1950s, which led to the existence of concert recordings captured in fine sound. Despite Fischer being of a more advanced age at this time, we can hear him in wonderful form in repertoire he did not otherwise commit to disc. One such glorious performance is his August 9, 1952 Salzburg broadcast of Beethoven’s ‘Archduke’ Trio Op.97, featuring marvellous collaborative playing amongst the three stellar musicians – Wolfgang Schneiderhan, Enrico Mainardi, and Edwin Fischer – making this a worthy contender for a reference recording of the work:
Another fine later performance of a work not in his commercial discography took place a month later: Fischer’s September 23, 1952 Munich account of Beethoven’s Fantasia Op.77, which reveals in wonderful sound his glowing sonority, fluid phrasing, and attentive voicing:
I hope that the availability of Fischer’s discography will invite piano fans to investigate more of this great pianist’s artistry through the many hours of recordings that he left us. Many thanks to Roger Smithson for making his work available to us!
One of the great and perhaps unexpected benefits of the CD era has been the publication of rare historic recordings to an astonishing degree. Recordings that were never released during the LP era have been remastered and issued on CD; it is indeed a collector’s dream to be living at this time when the great performances of the past are more accessible than ever before. Decca’s Eloquence label has been doing a marvellous job with releasing some fine rarities, most recently presenting the complete Decca recordings of an artist who had escaped my attention: the Russian pianist Nikolai Orloff.
In my 30 years of collecting I never came across an LP of this pianist’s recordings (if I saw one, it certainly didn’t capture my attention) and biographical information online is limited to say the least. Fortunately my friend and colleague, the eminent pianophile Jonathan Summers of the British Library Sound Collections, was commissioned to produce the notes for this wonderful new CD. Some of the biographical highlights of this artist:
Born in 1892, Orloff came from a famous Russian family and graduated with the Gold Medal from the Moscow Conservatory in 1910 after studying piano with the legendary Konstantin Igumnov and composition with Taneyev. His first public appearance was the premiere of Glazunov’s First Piano Concerto in 1912, and after some years teaching in Russia he would tour abroad in 1921 with Glazunov himself before settling in Paris the following year. His London debut took place in 1924 while he would first appear in the US on a tour held in late 1926. Some high-profile performances in New York include a ‘Musical Morning’ with Rosa Ponselle and Giovanni Martinelli and a Carnegie Hall recital. He would move to Scotland in 1948, where he died a the age of 72 in 1964.
Orloff did not produce recordings at the height of his career, his first discs being made for Decca starting September 1945 when he was 53 years old. This wonderful reading of Chopin’s First Impromptu – leisurely, elegant, and fluid – was recorded at his first session:
The only large-scale work on the new Eloquence CD of Orloff’s Decca recordings is his 1945 recording of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1, with the National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Anatole Fistoulari. While the microphone placement results in the piano sounding set rather ‘back’, the playing is mesmerizing for a similar reason: Orloff doesn’t push his way to the front as do most pianists, eschewing the more overtly showy aspects of the work with a very musical approach, characterized by lyrical phrasing, more regulated dynamics (there is never a hint of banging), and beautiful tone – an approach not unlike the 1925 acoustical recording by his compatriot Vassily Sapellnikoff, who had played the work with the composer himself. The last movement of the concerto is a fine example of how Orloff’s more sensitive approach can reveal hidden dimensions in frequently-played showpieces:
This is not to suggest that the playing is lacking in excitement: Orloff’s traversal of Chopin’s Etude in C-Sharp Minor Op.10 No.4 featured here, for example, features thrilling fingerwork at a terrific tempo and is played with great gusto. However, moments of abandon are beautifully tempered with deliberate musical choices, such as his ending this vivacious etude with chords that are musically voiced and not played fortissimo:
This wonderful CD clocks in at just over an hour and is an important addition to the discography of great pianists of the world, bringing to light the art of a forgotten artist of the past whose modest and musical approach – and more limited commercial output – has unjustly led to his being less remembered than many of his contemporaries. Between the Tchaikovsky First Concerto and a group of Chopin solos on this disc, we get to hear some very refined and elegant pianism from a long neglected artist.
One of the great and perhaps unexpected benefits of the CD era has been the publication of rare historic recordings to an astonishing degree. Recordings that were never released during the LP era have been remastered and issued on CD; it is indeed a collector’s dream to be living at this time when the great performances of the past are more accessible than ever before. Decca’s Eloquence label has been doing a marvellous job with releasing some fine rarities, most recently presenting the complete Decca recordings of an artist who had escaped my attention: the Russian pianist Nikolai Orloff.
In my 30 years of collecting I never came across an LP of this pianist’s recordings (if I saw one, it certainly didn’t capture my attention) and biographical information online is limited to say the least. Fortunately my friend and colleague, the eminent pianophile Jonathan Summers of the British Library Sound Collections, was commissioned to produce the notes for this wonderful new CD. Some of the biographical highlights of this artist:
Born in 1892, Orloff came from a famous Russian family and graduated with the Gold Medal from the Moscow Conservatory in 1910 after studying piano with the legendary Konstantin Igumnov and composition with Taneyev. His first public appearance was the premiere of Glazunov’s First Piano Concerto in 1912, and after some years teaching in Russia he would tour abroad in 1921 with Glazunov himself before settling in Paris the following year. His London debut took place in 1924 while he would first appear in the US on a tour held in late 1926. Some high-profile performances in New York include a ‘Musical Morning’ with Rosa Ponselle and Giovanni Martinelli and a Carnegie Hall recital. He would move to Scotland in 1948, where he died a the age of 72 in 1964.
Orloff did not produce recordings at the height of his career, his first discs being made for Decca starting September 1945 when he was 53 years old. This wonderful reading of Chopin’s First Impromptu – leisurely, elegant, and fluid – was recorded at his first session:
The only large-scale work on the new Eloquence CD of Orloff’s Decca recordings is his 1945 recording of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1, with the National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Anatole Fistoulari. While the microphone placement results in the piano sounding set rather ‘back’, the playing is mesmerizing for a similar reason: Orloff doesn’t push his way to the front as do most pianists, eschewing the more overtly showy aspects of the work with a very musical approach, characterized by lyrical phrasing, more regulated dynamics (there is never a hint of banging), and beautiful tone – an approach not unlike the 1925 acoustical recording by his compatriot Vassily Sapellnikoff, who had played the work with the composer himself. The last movement of the concerto is a fine example of how Orloff’s more sensitive approach can reveal hidden dimensions in frequently-played showpieces:
This is not to suggest that the playing is lacking in excitement: Orloff’s traversal of Chopin’s Etude in C-Sharp Minor Op.10 No.4 featured here, for example, features thrilling fingerwork at a terrific tempo and is played with great gusto. However, moments of abandon are beautifully tempered with deliberate musical choices, such as his ending this vivacious etude with chords that are musically voiced and not played fortissimo:
This wonderful CD clocks in at just over an hour and is an important addition to the discography of great pianists of the world, bringing to light the art of a forgotten artist of the past whose modest and musical approach – and more limited commercial output – has unjustly led to his being less remembered than many of his contemporaries. Between the Tchaikovsky First Concerto and a group of Chopin solos on this disc, we get to hear some very refined and elegant pianism from a long neglected artist.
One of the great and perhaps unexpected benefits of the CD era has been the publication of rare historic recordings to an astonishing degree. Recordings that were never released during the LP era have been remastered and issued on CD; it is indeed a collector’s dream to be living at this time when the great performances of the past are more accessible than ever before. Decca’s Eloquence label has been doing a marvellous job with releasing some fine rarities, most recently presenting the complete Decca recordings of an artist who had escaped my attention: the Russian pianist Nikolai Orloff.
In my 30 years of collecting I never came across an LP of this pianist’s recordings (if I saw one, it certainly didn’t capture my attention) and biographical information online is limited to say the least. Fortunately my friend and colleague, the eminent pianophile Jonathan Summers of the British Library Sound Collections, was commissioned to produce the notes for this wonderful new CD. Some of the biographical highlights of this artist:
Born in 1892, Orloff came from a famous Russian family and graduated with the Gold Medal from the Moscow Conservatory in 1910 after studying piano with the legendary Konstantin Igumnov and composition with Taneyev. His first public appearance was the premiere of Glazunov’s First Piano Concerto in 1912, and after some years teaching in Russia he would tour abroad in 1921 with Glazunov himself before settling in Paris the following year. His London debut took place in 1924 while he would first appear in the US on a tour held in late 1926. Some high-profile performances in New York include a ‘Musical Morning’ with Rosa Ponselle and Giovanni Martinelli and a Carnegie Hall recital. He would move to Scotland in 1948, where he died a the age of 72 in 1964.
Orloff did not produce recordings at the height of his career, his first discs being made for Decca starting September 1945 when he was 53 years old. This wonderful reading of Chopin’s First Impromptu – leisurely, elegant, and fluid – was recorded at his first session:
The only large-scale work on the new Eloquence CD of Orloff’s Decca recordings is his 1945 recording of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1, with the National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Anatole Fistoulari. While the microphone placement results in the piano sounding set rather ‘back’, the playing is mesmerizing for a similar reason: Orloff doesn’t push his way to the front as do most pianists, eschewing the more overtly showy aspects of the work with a very musical approach, characterized by lyrical phrasing, more regulated dynamics (there is never a hint of banging), and beautiful tone – an approach not unlike the 1925 acoustical recording by his compatriot Vassily Sapellnikoff, who had played the work with the composer himself. The last movement of the concerto is a fine example of how Orloff’s more sensitive approach can reveal hidden dimensions in frequently-played showpieces:
This is not to suggest that the playing is lacking in excitement: Orloff’s traversal of Chopin’s Etude in C-Sharp Minor Op.10 No.4 featured here, for example, features thrilling fingerwork at a terrific tempo and is played with great gusto. However, moments of abandon are beautifully tempered with deliberate musical choices, such as his ending this vivacious etude with chords that are musically voiced and not played fortissimo:
This wonderful CD clocks in at just over an hour and is an important addition to the discography of great pianists of the world, bringing to light the art of a forgotten artist of the past whose modest and musical approach – and more limited commercial output – has unjustly led to his being less remembered than many of his contemporaries. Between the Tchaikovsky First Concerto and a group of Chopin solos on this disc, we get to hear some very refined and elegant pianism from a long neglected artist.
Netflix has done the world a favour by launching their series Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on January 1st, the day that North Americans traditionally focus on embracing new, healthier habits. Kondo’s approach to organizing homes has been a sensation not just in her native Japan but worldwide (her book is for sale in 40 countries and is even available at Costco). However, seeing her in action, observing her clients address the impact that the lack of clarity in their home has had on their frame of mind and their relationships, and seeing how they evolve throughout the process all make her philosophy much more real.
The New York Times has just published an article quoting scientists stating that clutter causes both stress and procrastination – I am not being sarcastic when I say that I am glad to see science supporting common sense, because some of these ideas rarely get fully explored in that way. The whole concept of organizing can stress people out because it requires accountability and responsibility for things that we have grown accustomed to ignoring (this is why moving is considered one of the top three stressors). Additionally, ‘letting go’ feels like a loss.
Kondo’s approach is brilliant because it’s actually about what you keep – and keeping only what brings you joy. By addressing each item and gauging the level of joy it sparks, you can tune into your current attitude towards what you possess to see if you are HAVING it (emotionally, mentally, spiritually) as opposed to simply POSSESSING it (physically).
The work that Kondo does is a significant part of what I do in my Contemporary Feng Shui consulting, where I invite clients to consider what they own, where it is placed, and how it makes them feel. I go a bit further in helping them draw connections to some of the unintended consequences of some of the items and arrangements. If their bookcases are overfull, they clearly enjoy reading and new ideas, but they don’t have the space to easily welcome in new ones, which thereby lessens their desired experience to learn more and expand their thinking. If they want to find a partner but have artwork of single individuals throughout the space, they are unwittingly cultivating a sense of solitude instead of togetherness. The home tells countless stories about our modus operandi and life experience.
What this is all about is having a conscious relationship with everything in your personal space, and clarifying your thoughts and feelings about your possessions invites more of that clarity in your waking experience, both at home and in the world at large. When you make everything accessible and aesthetically appealing, you bring more beauty and joy into even the mundane daily tasks of your life.
I have also enjoyed watching Kondo’s program because I have had a 26-year relationship with Japan, living in Tokyo for five years in the 1990s and traveling there extensively ever since, in particular consulting throughout the country multiple times a year for the last 15 years. Seeing Kondo walk through North American homes with an interpreter is eerily similar to my own experience going through Japanese homes with an interpreter in a foreign land, and the warm welcome and deep gratitude at the changes she ushers in has stimulated my own gratitude at how graciously I’ve been invited to hundreds of homes and businesses in Japan, a country where one traditionally does not invite even close acquaintances into one’s residence, and the significant changes I have witnessed in my clients’ lives.
I hope that Kondo’s Netflix series will encourage more and more people to recognize the reality that your home is not just where you reside: it is a workshop where you incubate and cultivate every dimension of your life.
May your surroundings ever spark joy and wholeness in your being!
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