That's very gratifying, Kevin.
There was definitely something very special about Alexander Ghindin. He has a very deep connection to the instrument, and he could project an emotional mood which changed every second, so that nothing he did ever seemed automatic. The flow was all part of a bigger picture.
You know how a lot of pianists, if you want to shake hands, make theirs limp like a dead fish, so that you won't heartily greet them by crushing their hands? When Alexander Ghindin shook hands the first day when he arrived, he didn't exactly injure mine, but it was close. I sort of got a "who me, worry?" feeling. Certainly not scared of a handshake.
After the recital so memorable for the totally surviving tuning, I attended two rehearsals and the symphony concert. He certainly didn't hold back on the Totentanz. I don't remember much about the other concerto, something modern. So, he got through the first rehearsal, and the piano still sounded fine! The second rehearsal I could hear the tuning was getting a little raw, so I walked down to the stage afterwards, and he said, "the piano is ready for some tuning." We had to arrange for me to get into the hall early, because he wanted to practice at 9 a.m. So, at 8 a.m., there I was. I had a lot of minor unison troubles to deal with and of course I wanted to make it stable. At 9 he came in, and I left. As I was walking away, finding my way through the orchestra seating, for some reason I said a catch phrase I had probably been saying too often around then: "Every day a new adventure!" And, as he was playing his warm up things, he said, "Every day the SAME adventure."
On YouTube you can find recordings (no video) from very early, which he made with Vladimir Ashkenazy conducting. He recorded the original versions of Rachmaninoff concerti. Rachmaninoff's grandson had kept anyone from performing them for decades, but finally relented. Alexander Ghindin had recently won the Tschaikovsky Compeition at a very young age.
Someone set up the first concerto with a two piano score scrolling along:
Rachmaninoff - 1st Piano Concerto: 1891 version (sheet music)
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Rachmaninoff - 1st Piano Concerto: 1891 version (sheet music) |
Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873 - 1943) - Piano Concerto No. 1 in F-sharp Minor, op. 1. Composed in 1891. Performed by Alexander Ghindin (piano) and Helsinki Philharmonic orchestra conducted by Vladimir Ashkenasy. With the 2 pianos score of the Concerto. Rachmaninoff revised the Concerto in 1917, original version is performed and recorded very rarely. |
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It's all very familiar --- and then it isn't!
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Susan Kline
Philomath, Oregon
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Original Message:
Sent: 05-13-2019 06:49
From: Kevin Magill
Subject: tour de force
I would like to thank you too Susan for sharing this story. After repairing the damage to an Everett baby grand piano in a home yesterday I wondered how it had gotten so traumatized. After ensuring that both father and son were happy, and that I was well compensated for my time, I heard the boy on the other side of the front door creating music by constantly hitting the piano. Made me wonder how long it would be before I got called back.
Sharing your story is so valuable to me, I am taking a screen shot of this forum page, and keeping it near and dear should someone such as this young man have the ears to listen to a mere piano tuner if he should like for me to share the secrets of his beloved piano.
Sent from my iPad
Original Message------
Hi, Cindy
I eagerly offered the first question, because I really wanted to hear the answer. I told Mr. Ghindin that I had noticed he could play with tremendous power and volume, yet the tuning was never hurt. I asked him if he could explain how it was done.
He had just talked about his first teacher. The government paid a woman to give him an hour lesson a day ("but it was usually four") and his mother sat in the room and wrote down everything she said. If I remember right, this started when he was about seven. Answering my question, he told me that very early in his time with this teacher, she told him, "If you hit the piano, it will never forgive you."
Then he talked about always having the attitude of drawing volume from the piano, instead of forcing it into the piano. (I wish an otherwise excellent Korean pianist I tuned for last week had heard of this concept!) And he talked about how his body absorbs the force of the blow, with it traveling up his arm and shoulder and ending up way down in his back ribs. He demonstrated this. So, he retained resilience instead of having stiffness. He never jabbed at keys with stiff fingers or a stiff arm.
So, I added a second part to my question. I explained to him my theory that pianists such as him or Constantine Orbelian had so much mass and muscular strength that they never needed to strain, they always had strength to spare. (Constantine Orbelian had played the Schnittke concerto on Newport's SD-10 with the Moscow Chamber Orchestra without hurting the tuning, though listening to the alternating triple forte dissonant passages interspersed with crystal clear extremely soft passages was a hair-raising experience.) And I said that it was 100 pound Asian women who were really scary to tune for, because they needed to force the tone.
He disagreed. "Even a 70 kilogram woman has more than enough strength to bring out the full volume of a piano, if it is used right."
Afterwards three people thanked me for asking the question.
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Susan Kline
Philomath, Oregon
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