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ENCOUNTERS WITH THE Never will I forget my first hearing of an evening of piano trios with Edwin Fischer! I was still very young, and I went to this concert, which took place in Vienna's Konzerthaus, with not very high expectations. Up to this time I was of the opinion that chamber music must be very beautiful- but a little bit boring. The muffled silence which prevailed in the auditorium seemed to confirm this expectation. But after a few measures my prejudice had to be completely set aside. Here I experienced a music-making in which each of the three partners expressed his temperatment without constraint and yet the three players were linked together by some kind of inner harmony. At one point the two strings opposed the pianist (who looked like a lion to me) like a miniature orchestra, at another all three instruments united in a melodious flow of sound. Perhaps (so it seemed to me later) it was because of this very asymetrical nature of sounds produced by the three instruments that caused nerly all composers of piano trios to write with such dramatic verve. . .In any event, this is the chamber music form which permits each player the greatest dynamic unfolding of his or her personality. Later I had a chance to attend many recitals with the Edwin Fischer Trio, and also rehearsals that afforded me valuable insights into the secrets of this art form. Personally I learned most from that memorable concert in Salzburg, in 1950, when at the shortest notice I replaced Edwin Fischer in a trio recital; the master had suddenly fallen ill, and it was he himself who suggested that I substitute for him. On the basis of the impressions I had up to that time I threw myself with full force into the fortissimo passages of the Brahms Trio on the program - after all that is how my master Edwin had done it. But after a few measures Enrico Mainardi interrupted me: "Young man, this is no piano concerto! If you play so loud, the strings won't be audible at all! A fortissimo in a chamber music work is not the absolute but the relative volume of sound. What objectively corresponds to a mezzo forte may give the impression of the greatest power here, even if the piano is correspondingly less loud and above all when an inner power of the soul comes to the fore." At these rehearsals I also learned the art of beautiful transitions and of natural Agogik, the subtle modifications of the tempo, which appear so spontaneous and so improvisational in performance, yet have the result of the most careful and most minute preparation in rehearsal. I could hardly wait to hear the "real" Fischer Trio in the following year. Encountering the master again brought me first of all the depressing realization that the secret of creatively inspired music-making is ultimately inimitable. As I was allowed to sit in on rehearsals, I was able to observe again and again that even a carefully tried-out and rehearsed conception could be thrown to the winds in the public performance. The source of these surprises was most often Edwin Fischer. In terms of achieving chamber-music unity, what was incomprehensible was that an unexpectedly quicker tempo or an entirely new dynamic variation found all three musicians responding in such a synchronized and homogeneous way as if exactly this way of playing had been the long accustomed one. It was also highly treasurable to observe the great personal differences between the three
masters! The youngest of the group, Wolfgang Schneiderhan, who had replaced the prematurely
deceased Georg Kulenkampff, produced an efflorescent violin tone which, if anything, made
him fit in with his partners better than did his predecessor. He spoke little and endured the
long tirades of Master Enrico with the same patience as Edwin Fischer. Although Enrico
Mainardi had a sense for large forms, he wanted to fix every little detail with the greatest
exactitude. When it came to the performance though his wonderfully noble cello tone spoke
to the heart and made one forget how much rational deliberation sometimes stood behind his
playing. Schneiderhan was able to convey valuable things from the Viennese tradition, and
knew a lot about correct bowing. Fischer, who spoke little, got results above all through his
strong personality. For instance in the Ghost Trio there were often difficulties. At a dramatic
climax of one of the movements Fischer suddenly exclaimed with flaming eyes and the thunderous
tones of a Jupiter, "Schwefelgelber Gewitterhimmel!" (a stormy sky, yellow as sulfur!).
With these two words he hit the mark with inimitable precision, for after that these difficult
places went as smoothly and effortlessly as one could wish, thanks to his simile. Excerpt from the sleevenotes, ©1986 Paul Badura-Skoda
Note: Following pitch correction, durations as indicated on the original covers are now slightly inaccurate.
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