Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (1920-1995)
1966-69; USA tour
In 1966, after more than fifteen years, Michelangeli embarks on his third North American tour. In Bologna, he gives his first concert with Sergiu Celibidache. In the presence of Pope Paul VI, he performs his third Vatican concert with Agostino Orizio
On 21 January, 1966, he returned to play in Carnegie Hall for the first time in 15 years. [LISTEN] A few days earlier [6 January] his performance of Beethoven’s Emperor with William Steinberg and the New York Philharmonic drew raves, and was captured on tape by a musical bootlegger. (John Bell Young)
'The Elgar was interesting because it is a novelty; the Beethoven because it received so spectacular a performance at the hands of Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli and the orchestra conducted by William Steinberg. He does not make too many appearances, nor does he record very much, but he is spoken about in awed whispers. Last night he played one of the most remarkable performances of the “Emperor" Concerto that has been heard hereabout for years. For one thing, it was absolutely limpid and pellucid. Piano playing sounds so easy when that kind of hands are at work. From the first smashing E flat chord and the following arpeggios, it was clear that a pianist of tremendous authority was engaged with the “Emperor." And so it turned out. Now it remains to be seen if the pianist is as authoritative in other schools of music. His forthcoming recital will further expose his talents. But one thing can be said: Mr. Michelangeli is a much more mature artist than he was at his last appearances here. And if his recital matches the "Emperor" last night, he is one of the world's supreme pianists.' (Harold C. Schonberg)
13 January, 1966: Orchestra Hall, Chicago, Illinois
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No.5 in E-flat major, Op.73 (Emperor)
– André Previn / Chicago Symphony Orchestra
Friday, 21 January, 1966: Carnegie Hall, New York City, New York
(Audience Recording, LISTEN)
Bach/Busoni: Chaconne from Violin Partita No.2 in D minor, BWV 1004
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No.32 in C minor, Op.111
Debussy: Images (Book I & II)
Chopin: Berceuse in D-flat major, Op.57; Scherzo No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.31
Encores:
· Mompou: Canción y Danza No.1
· Mompou: Canción from Canción y Danza No.6
· Chopin: Waltz in E-flat major, Op.posth (B.46)
· Scarlatti: Sonata in A major, K.322
· Grieg: Lyric Piece in E major, Op.68 No.5 (Cradle Song)
This was Michelangeli’s first Carnegie Hall recital in 16 years. Every pianist in New York was present, including at least Arthur Rubinstein and Vladimir Horowitz, but Rubinstein had left after intermission (it is said).
'In some respects, it was a superb recital, in others a puzzling one. The Chaconne was an example of ferocious - there is no other word - virtuosity. Those big hands of his gobble up chords and wide-spaced figurations like a computer faced with a row of figures. Debussy is not played very much these days, and the Images, the second book especially, are a real novelty. Parts of the Beethoven were propulsive, romantic, large-scaled. But for the purist - and everybody these days is a purist where Op.111 is concerned - there were an unsettling number of little rhythmic changes, variations in tempo, curious accents, breaks in phrase. To this mind, the performance was more a collection of marvellous pianistic effects than a unified conception.' (Harold C. Schonberg)
In the Beethoven 'what he lacks is patience with structure, interest in architecture, to sustain a long line of thought and carry through a saturating mood.' SR, 5 February 1966
'In interview, two interpreters flanked him-one, his traveling companion and lawyer, Carlo Palmisano, the other an American press agent.'
News reached Il Piccolo di Trieste (23.1.66) and it spoke of New York going mad with delirious excitement. It also reported the New York Herald Tribune saying that 'Michelangeli ignites the imagination, both with his physical presence and with his art. Haughty, feral, possessed - one might say - by internal demons, he hypnotises the audience from the moment he appears on stage until the moment he leaves. There is something about him that almost fills one with unease, as if he were communicating certain tensions which ultimately dissolve, sublimated, as soon as he begins to play.'
The Jornal do Brasil 22 March & 1 April 1966 (the irony of April Fools' Day - Dia das Mentiras, or Dia dos Bobos in Portuguese) announces that ABM will give two recitals in August in Rio de Janeiro (there will also be a visit from Teatro dei Piccoli, a famous Italian puppet theatre... But did ABM travel to South America?
18-30 April, 1966.
Michelangeli has been appointed to the International jury for the third International José Vianna Da Motta Piano Competition, which will take place in Lisbon. Other jury members include Samson François and Brazilian composer Camargo Guarnieri. The most eagerly awaited recital by a jury member is that of ABM, on late afternoon of 26 April.
(Corriere della Sera, 17.4.66)
9 May 1966 (advert): Palacio de la Musica, Barcelona; recital at 10:30pm by the "fabulous pianist". Bach, Beethoven, Debussy and Chopin.
Wednesday, 12 October 1966: After announcing the nominations of Msgr. G. M. Bluysens as Bishop of s'Hertogenbosch (Holland) and of Msgr. P. Raeymaeckers as Coadjutor to the Bishop of Labore (Pakistan), 'at 5:30 pm, His Holiness Pope Paul VI attended the concert held in the Consistory Hall by the Gasparo da Salò Orchestra of Brescia, conducted by Maestro Agostino Orizio, with the participation of Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli.'
L'Osservatore Romano (23.10.66)
1967
February 24, 1967: Carnegie Hall, New York City, New York (Audience Recording | AAC256)
· Scarlatti: Five Sonatas
o K.11 in C minor
o K.159 in C major
o K.322 in A major
o K.9 in D minor
o K.27 in B minor
· Beethoven: Piano Sonata No.3 in C major, Op.2 No.3
· Debussy: Children’s Corner (Suite)
· Chopin: Three Mazurkas
o Op.33 No.1 in G-sharp minor
o Op.30 No.3 in D-flat major
o Op.33 No.4 in B minor
· Chopin: Fantasy in F minor, Op.49
Encore:
· Debussy: Reflets dans l’eau (Images, Book I No.1)
February 26, 1967: Symphony Hall, Boston, Massachusetts (programme as 24th)
The price of his stratospheric standards was dear. According to Leiser, he played only 17 concerts world wide in the 1966-67 season, "Everybody thought he was playing 80 concerts a season, and it looked as if he was, because he was playing all over the world. That he limited his engagements to such an extent was hardly the frivolous gesture of a male prima donna, but an exercise of artistic authority."
Franz Mohr, Steinway's head concert technician for decades, in his book My Life With the Great Pianists, recounts dealing with Michelangeli at Carnegie Hall, on Michelangeli's first visit to America. (As the book was published in 1992 and Mohr says this was 20 years ago, it all gets confusing... He only became senior technician c.1965) 'He didn't like any of the pianos we had in the Steinway basement and went out to the factory with me to look at a new Steinway - CD15, a piano that I personally loved very much.' The piano was brought to Carnegie hall and ABM practised on it all morning on the day of the concert. As a new piano doesn't stay in tune all that well, Mohr begged the pianist to be given some time for tuning. After a break of only a few minutes for lunch, he practised all afternoon. He would not listen or even look at Mohr when he requested a couple of hours for necessary work on it. In desperation, Mohr went to the stage manager Stewart Warkow, who told ABM "We have to open the House in half an hour, and Franz needs that time. Eventually Michelangeli said "I gvie you 10 minutes", but Mohr replied: "I warned you again and again" and refused to tune it.
And of course the newspapers reported: "Too bad the piano was out-of-tune".
Carlo Maria Dominici
At the age of 15, a student of Leland Thompson at the Juilliard School, Carlo Maria Dominici received an offer from Michelangeli to follow him to Italy to study with him. This was February 1966, in New York, just before a concert. From then on, he spent six years living with the Maestro, like in the old days, when students lived with their teachers,
in a daily relationship akin to discipleship.
(The concert was in Symphony Hall, Boston on February 26, 1966. That same evening, Dominici flew with Michelangeli to Italy.)
At 10:30pm I had to go to bed, without arguing. I studied a lot, also because I had nothing else to do. There was no television, so I had no distractions. There was the radio, which the Maestro listened to only for the news. I managed to study
for up to ten hours a day. He rarely spoke directly to me, It was clear what was wrong. He was forcing me to think and reflect because I had to figure out the solution myself.
The Maestro had several pianos in the cabin, and often, during lessons, he had me change instruments, so that I could learn immediately to adapt my performance to the differences between one piano and another. At first, it was a little frustrating because
I constantly lost concentration, but little by little I managed to get used to it. One day, during a lesson in my room, the Maestro appeared with a candle and turned off the light. I didn't understand. I could barely see. "Play," he said. "Maestro, I can't see!" I replied. "You mustn't see, you must hear. There are good pianists who are blind and play very well," he insisted. "You must be able to play even without seeing." I began to think he was crazy!
After several months of constant attempts and failures, I was able to play in the dark quite well. Luckily, we didn't have too many lessons in the dark. Later, the Maestro told me that during World War II, he often had to blow out the candles he used while practising to avoid further risk during air raids. So in the evenings, he was forced to practice in the dark. He explained that this "training" had helped him a lot with his concentration and his ability to "feel" with his fingers.
In some situations, the Maestro imposed fingerings that seemed unsuitable for my hand. But, as always, he was right. "You have to know your hand and approach every passage naturally (...) The hand knows exactly what it should do, but we often let ourselves be fooled by the ear (...) If you play any passage very slowly, trying not to let your ear influence you, you will realize that the hand knows exactly how to move naturally and precisely.”
The Maestro insisted on the importance of playing very slowly to allow the hand to "feel" on its own, without being influenced by the ear. The faster you play, the more the ear interferes. Studying the score without an instrument is also extremely important, precisely because it allows you to "see" rather than "hear." "You have to use a little imagination when approaching the piece you're studying."
The Maestro often listened to me in the corridor outside my room or in front of my window. Sometimes he came in and explained the phrasing of certain passages, other times he gave me advice during lunch or dinner. The lessons, however, had no set times or days. Sometimes he taught me in the morning. Sometimes in the afternoon, and on a few occasions even in the evening or after dinner, sometimes even on Sundays. The Maestro never got angry with me; on the contrary, he was always very patient. Every now and then he would leave the room to smoke his unfiltered Benson and Hedges cigarettes. He smoked a lot, exclusively that brand of cigarettes. They were also available in Italy, but only with filters; the unfiltered ones he obtained from Switzerland. On occasion, he even smoked French Gauloises, without a filter.
Lessons with the Maestro were always fascinating. He wrote down various fingerings for the pieces I studied. In particular, for the Chopin sonatas in B minor and B-flat minor, the Bach-Busoni Chaconne, and Beethoven's Waldstein. He considered the study of all twenty-four Chopin etudes to be absolutely essential. He placed great importance on fingering, always insisting on the natural position of the hand. He never imposed his fingering except in certain situations.
In Beethoven's Sonata, Op. 2, No. 3 in C major, at the beginning of the first movement, he absolutely insisted that I use fingers 4-1, 3-2, 4-1, 3-2, 4-1, 3-5, 4-1, 3-2, 5-1.
Beethoven Sonata, Op. 2, No. 3 in C major. At first, I struggled a lot, but after a short while, I realized how well it worked and the clear, precise sound that came out of it.
During lessons, the Maestro rarely sat next to me. He would sit far away from me or pace back and forth. He almost never interrupted me during a performance unless
I messed up a lot, which happened quite often. He never wrote anything down, but
at the end of the performance, he was able to remember every little detail or mistake I made. Nothing escaped him: from the wrong finger, to the pedal slightly too long in a measure [bar], to the pause that was too short, to the uneven phrasing,
to the unwanted accent. Absolutely incredible. He made me repeat the piece, and together we would repeat, point by point, what I had done wrong. Another fundamental aspect for the Maestro was the pedal. He always said that the pedal should be treated with delicacy and respect, and never violently. On rare occasions, the pedal should be pressed all the way down. “You have to learn to use it carefully,” he told me. “It’s like driving a car.” “It’s the lungs of the piano.” So the Maestro began to force me to train so that I could feel at least five different pressures to apply to the pedal.
The same training had to be done with the left pedal as well, and I also had to practise applying different pressures on the two pedals simultaneously while playing any
piece. I admit I was going crazy!
Walter Fischetti
born in Genoa, studied with Remo Remoli and graduated from the Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory in Turin with top marks, honors, and an honorable mention. He furthered his studies with Renzo Silvestri, Carlo Zecchi, and Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli.
In my house, even when he was away, he was always called that, "the Maestro," with a huge capital M. When he came to visit, however, my parents changed to the friendly "Ciro" (for me, this "tu" they used to address him was almost sacrilegious...). I very rarely allowed myself to speak to him, and always, of course, in the most polite manner: after all, watching him play, he truly seemed like a supreme priest of music, lost in sublime and truly unreachable heights.
In reality, when he was with people he felt comfortable with, Benedetti Michelangeli became a simple and sweetly silent person. His favorite dishes were frugal (broad beans and pecorino cheese, salami, soup with a spoonful of wine "to strengthen it!"); perhaps tired of the constant compliments, he liked to tease himself a little.
Revista Musica del Conservatorio dell’Aquila 2023
1967 Israel
First tour in Israel.
16 January 1967, Tel Aviv with Israel Philharmonic and Carlo Maria Giulini. Mozart No. 20 in D minor K466
ABM was interviewed Haaretz on 6 January 1967, in the guesthouse built for conductors and soloist in Ramat Aviv. Polish conductor Paul Kletzki (born Paweł Klecki) is also present. 'A suit and black vest. Tall, broad-shouldered. He looks more like an athlete than an artist. I recall the car races in which he participated, his love of snow-skiing, and steep mountain peaks, and the rumour that he used to repair his car with his own hands (which is why insurance companies refuse to insure him). Here and there, I catch a juicy expression coming out of his mouth - porcaria for example, "pigs:, in reference to a record company that printed a recording without his permission (he filed a lawsuit and won).' He himself prefers to speak in the Venetian dialect and claims that when he goes to Sicily, he does not understand what is said to him there.
'His admirers compare his playing to a fjord in the moonlight, to a goldfish in an aquarium, to the columns of the Parthenon and to a picture by Vermeer. His critics speak of intellectual playing, of objective rhythm, of virtuosic perfection without heart or emotion. Michelangeli: Why? Because I am not prepared to go wild on stage as if I were performing in a circus ring. To show you that he is the most restrained of pianists. He comes to play, not to put on a show.'
Új Kelet, a Hungarian-language Jewish newspaper published first in Kolozsvár (Cluj Napoca) in Transylvania, Romania in 1918. Prior to the annexation of Transylvania to Hungary in 1940 when it ceased publishing, it was the preeminent periodical for Hungarian-speaking Jewry in the world. After an 8-year break from its final publication in 1940, it was reestablished in Tel Aviv, Israel in 1948.
On 13 January 1967, it wrote: 'The pessimists were fortunately defeated, the capricious concert was cancelled, the 46-year-old Italian Michelangeli, who is ranked among the four best pianists alive today, nevertheless performed on Saturday evening. His local aesthetes rave about his "impressively beautiful" performance, "with magnificent details", "seraphically silvery leggiero"[,,szerafikusan ezüstös leggierot”-ról], next to which the unheard-of virtuosity turns into the purest expression of the tension elements. .. Of course, we could also admire the Spanish (sic) artist with his bridging appearance in our own words, but I know, "as soon as he is foreign, he is immediately Viennese" ...
He played Beethoven's E-flat Major Concerto, about which every good concertgoer has his own ingrained, well-conserved idea. He had enough trouble with him because he could challenge his stone-carved standards, hearing Michelangeli. Most people, subconsciously fascinated, but still puzzled after the first impressions, only felt that this was something "different". Why is Michelangelo's Beethoven "different" from Rubinstein's, Backhaus's, Dohnányi's, Solomon's, Serkin's, or Curzon's, and other great masters? Because few great artists we know reflect so profoundly the centuries-old culture from which he emerged, whose rays, colors, and vital elements he absorbed, as in this case, the art of Michelangeli reflects Italian painting. Despite the thousand nuances of his piano tone, the compactness of his dynamics, his enormous range of expression, the decorations, the pearly trills, the breath-like or manly defiant runs are merely building blocks in his hands, from which he incorporates the freely fantasising first movement of the E flat major concerto into a classical unity, together with its beautiful, dream-like secondary theme and variations. The calm of the classical Italian masters radiated from the middle, adagio movement as well: the sixteenth-note accompaniment of the solo piano unfolded before us like a mirror-smooth sea color without any wave vibration, in dignified immobility. However, behind the apparent rigidity of this almost unemphasized uniformity, there was an enormous inner tension, which preserved its nobly curving forms in the bars leading to the third movement, and did not stray from its course in the jubilant finale either. This characteristically Italian beauty of form, which distinguishes Michelangeli's Beethoven playing from most of the great performers of our time, did not exclude his frequent individual "deviations", such as strong rhythms, unusual decelerations and subsequent capricious accelerations in the time scale. But it is characteristic of his art how harmoniously these subjective, non-classical elements blend into the great arc of the structure, without breaking its unity for a moment. Where he started from and where his true homeland is, Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli revealed in a Scarlatti sonata played as an encore, shining with enchantingly transparent lights. And if there is much less Italian serenity, color and light in Beethoven than in his great predecessors, Mozart and Haydn, the "lux eterna", the eternal light, which radiates from our artist's captivatingly beautiful piano playing and performance, also put Beethoven in a somewhat new light. Paul Kletzki's accompaniment was precise, but generally stout and militarily unwieldy.
June 17 or 23, 1967: Brescia, Italy
Chopin: Six Mazurkas & Ballade No.1 in G minor, Op.23
July/August 1967, Copenhagen, Denmark (broadcast on BBC 2 on 6 August which give a terminus ante quem; Danish newspapers suggest July for the recording))
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5 in E flat major, Op. 73 'Emperor' (watch the film)
Polish maestro Jan Krenz (1926-2020) conducts Danish Radio Symphony Orchestra
Krenz had conducted at the 10th International Festival of Modern Music, in Warsaw, autumn 1966: "Refrain" Op.21 (1965) for orchestra by Henryk Mikołaj Górecki with the Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra.
Górecki became a leading figure of the Polish avant-garde during the post-Stalin cultural thaw. He was largely unknown outside Poland until the late 1980s. In 1992, 15 years after it was composed, a recording of his Symphony No. 3 "of Sorrowful Songs" [Symfonia pieśni żałosnych] with soprano Dawn Upshaw and conductor David Zinman, became a worldwide commercial and critical success.
Sunday, 3 September, 1967: Place des Arts (Théâtre Maisonneuve), Montréal, Canada.
The World Festival: Italy at Expo. An all-Chopin recital.
Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor
Six Mazurkas -
Op.68 No.4 in F minor
Op.41 No.3 in A-flat major
Op.33 No.1 in G-sharp minor
Op.30 No.3 in D-flat major
Op.59 No.3 in F-sharp minor
Op.33 No.4 in B minor
Ballade No.1 in G minor, Op.23
Andante Spianato & Grande Polonaise Brillante, Op.22
Jacob Siskind in a very long review forThe Gazette wrote: 'A mass of contradictions. The most exciting event to date in this festival. There is no doubt about Michelangeli's disdain for his audience, and there is no doubt whatever that he enjoys performing in public. He brought his own piano and tuner from Italy. Michelangeli's Chopin has a warmth and a roundness that are rarely heard today. There is never an ugly note. A capacity to elicit a pianissimo of gossamer delicacy. In the melody of the Funeral March trio, he made the piano sing as I have never heard it before. Only in the polonaise, did we see the playful side of this artist. The brilliance of the performance, all the more exciting for its understatement, placed it on an order quite above everything I have ever heard. Josef Hofmann might have equalled this in his prime. Only he had an equally impish sense of humour. We can only fervently pray that Michelangeli will want to return.'
William Littler in the Toronto Star (5.9.67) was less enthusiastic: 'A great pianist - but he's no great musician. He played as though he had never heard another pianist. His ideas were often unorthodox but they were never uninteresting. He did things with the music.' Littler seems a little paradoxical, exclaiming of the 6 Mazurkas, Ballade and Andante Spianato & Grande Polonaise Brillante: 'What new voices and accents he brought out in these!', yet concluding: 'He is probably one of the greatest pianists alive who is not a great musician.'
6 Chopin Mazurkas at a 4 November, 1967 Salzburg: watch here
'Some truly phenomenal film footage of Michelangeli playing 6 Chopin Mazurkas at a November 4th, 1967 Salzburg recital: gorgeous colours, fluid phrasing, incredible dynamic nuancing, and pedal effects.' Mark Ainsley
November 19, 1967: Konserthuset, Stockholm, Sweden (Radio Broadcast | AAC256)
· Schumann: Piano Concerto in A minor, Op.54
– Sergiu Celibidache / Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra
1968
13 May 1968: Istra Concert Hall, Zagreb, Yugoslavia
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No.5 in E-flat major, Op.73 (Emperor)
– Milan Horvat / Zagreb Philharmonic Orchestra. Horvat (1919-2014), a Croatian who studied with Igor Markevitch. A discographical appendix to Cord Garben's book compiled by Stefano Biosa states Zagreb, Istria Concert Hall, probably June 1971 Zagrebačka Filharmonija, & Milan Horvat - another performance or is one of the two dates incorrect?
Billboard states that ABM made guest appearances on 13 and 15 May, 1968 with the Zagreb and Belgrade Philharmonic Orchestras.
June 4, 1968: Lugano, Switzerland (Radio Broadcast | FLAC)
· Chopin: Piano Sonata No.2 in B-flat minor, Op.35
· Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Fantasiebilder), Op.26
· Debussy: Children’s Corner (Suite)
– Aura 978-3-86562-779-7
June 10, 1968: Teatro Grande, Brescia, Italy (Radio Broadcast | AAC256)
– International Piano Festival of Brescia and Bergamo –
· Haydn: Piano Concerto No.11 in D major, Hob.XVIII:11
Encore:
· Haydn: Piano Concerto No.11 in D major, Hob.XVIII:11 – III
13 June 1968, Teatro Novelli, Rimini, Italy: Mozart K415 with Orchestra Gasparo da Saló.
In 1968, ABM was involved in the bankruptcy of the DM record company, in which he was a partner. Having failed to provide the requested number of recordings, the pianos he owned at home were seized. Agostino Orizio apparently ensured that the confiscation notice for Michelangeli's pianos published in the middle of a concert on June 13, 1968, at the Novelli Theater in Rimini. From that moment on, Michelangeli decided to have nothing more to do with Italy, despite the efforts of then-Prime Minister Aldo Moro and, later, President of the Republic Sandro Pertini. He maintained his residence in Bolzano, but from then on he lived in Switzerland and never performed in his homeland again , except for the benefit concert at the Teatro Grande in Brescia in June 1980, in memory of Pope Paul VI, which Michelangeli attended only at the insistence of Giorgio Montini, Paul VI's nephew.
[Bruno Giurato]
14 June 1968, Teatro Donizetti, Bergamo
Monday 4 November 1968, Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier, Place des Arts, Montreal, Canada.
New York City (1968)
26 November 1968: Carnegie Hall, New York City, New York
Clementi: Piano Sonata in B-flat major, Op.12 No.1
Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Fantasiebilder), Op.26
Ravel: Valses nobles et sentimentales
Ravel: Gaspard de la Nuit
'Last night, at the top of his form, he played an entire concert in such a way that there simply was no criticizing it. Mr. Michelangeli has very quiet way of playing the piano. He sits on a cushioned seat, his torso is upright, and there is an air of Olympian detachment about him. The Clementi is not one of the more interesting sonatas of the period, though it has some technical touches in advance of its day. These include octaves and thirds, both great specialties. Mr. Michelangeli played the sonata in a limpid manner, rather lavish with the pedal but always clear in articulation. The last movement, a theme and variations, has some tricky things in it. and the pianist nonchalantly took care of the figurations in the airiest way possible.
'As for both Ravel pieces, they were amazing. The "Valses nobles et sentimentales" were exquisite musically and flawless pianistically. Delicate dabs of color and a perfumed languor suffused the work. But here again the pianist was never self-indulgent, and he was even able to get away with a very slow tempo in the second of the series. In any other hands this would have sounded intolerably sentimental, but so carefully did Mr. Michelangeli space the work, so subtle were his rhythms and accents, that the music never once halted. The supreme test in this piece is the last section. in which Ravel attempted a synthesis of the previous movements. It can sound episodic and disconnected, and Ravel did miscalculate here. Yet Mr. Michelangeli held even this together. Nobody need be told of the virtuosic terrors of "Gaspard de la Nuit," and especially the concluding "Scarbo." Most pianists have to fight the piece. Mr. Michelangeli, keeping his dynamics relatively subdued, floated through it. It is doubtful if any pianist has ever so clarified the complicated writing, or has made it sound so easy.' (Harold Schonberg)
December 7, 1968: Hunter College, New York City, New York (Audience Recording | FLAC)
· Clementi: Piano Sonata in B-flat major, Op.12 No.1
· Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Fantasiebilder), Op.26
· Ravel: Valses nobles et sentimentales
· Ravel: Gaspard de la Nuit
– Last pages missing from the finale of Schumann, and the last bars from Scarbo.
12, 13, 14, 16 December, 1968
New York Philharmonic, Carlo Maria Giulini
Mozart: Divertimento No. 11 in D major, K.251; Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor, K.466; Masonic Funeral Music, K.477 / 479a; Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K.550
1969
Thursday, 6 February 1969, Fredric R Mann Auditorium, Tel Aviv with Israel Philharmonic, Eliahu Inbal: Mozart C major K503 (also Avni, Meditations on a Drama and Beethoven 5)
20 February 1969: Israel Philharmonic, Eliahu Inbal: Schumann concerto (also Mozart 34 and Bartok Concerto for Orchestra)
15 May, 1969: Konserthuset, Stockholm, Sweden (listen here to a recording in a studio?)
Clementi: Piano Sonata in B-flat major, Op.12 No.1
Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Fantasiebilder), Op.26
Ravel: Gaspard de la Nuit
20 May, 1969: Kulttuuritalo/Kulturhuset, Helsinki, Finland (TV Broadcast )
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No.5 in E-flat major, Op.73 (Emperor)
– Sergiu Celibidache / Sveriges Radios Symfoniorkester
The Romanian conductor Sergiu Celibidache (1912-1996) was music director of the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra (SRSO) from 1965 to 1971.
'Michelangeli delineated the work as if an pen and ink drawing; he produced a sound in the opening chord that made me sit up with delight - the grand piano overwhelmed the orchestra.' Carl Gunanr Åhlén, Svenska Dagbladet (7.6.69)
Thursday, 22 May, 1969: Kulttuuritalo/House of Culture, Helsinki, Finland
Scarlatti: Five Sonatas
K.11 in C minor; K.159 in C major; K.322 in A major; K.9 in D minor; K.27 in B minor
Schumann: Faschingsschwank aus Wien (Fantasiebilder), Op.26
Debussy: Images (Books I & II)
Ravel: Gaspard de la Nuit
The excellent grand piano in the Finnish hall did not meet his requirements for Chopin, so he substituted Schumann's Carnival Prank for Chopin's second sonata at the last minute.
Debussys båda Image-samlingar gjorde mig inte fullt lika entusiastisk - detta är den absoluta höjdpunkten i den impressionistiska Debussy-traditionen, där musiken blir ett klangspel med en dragning åt indonesisk gamelang-musik. Personligen föredrar jag en mer linjär och expressivt laddad tolkning. ("Debussy's two Books of Images didn't quite excite me - this is the absolute pinnacle of the impressionistic Debussy tradition, where the music becomes a timbre with a touch of Indonesian gamelan music. Personally, I prefer a more linear and expressively charged interpretation.")
The reviewer also noted that Children's Corner was replaced with Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit, 'his playing of which has become part of musical history. In Stockholm, he played it better - among other things, the last movement Scarbo had a eerier power of suggestion. But on the other hand, I must have been one of the few in the audience who could compare Michelangeli with Michelangeli. There is no other yardstick.'
Carl Gunnar Åhlén, Svenska Dagbladet (7.6.69)
16 June, 1969: Zurich, Switzerland
23 December 1969, Fredric R Mann Auditorium, Tel Aviv with Israel Philharmonic and Sergiu Celibidache: Schumann, Piano Concerto in A minor (also Rossini's overture to La Gazza Ladra and Rimsky Korsakov's Sheherezade.
Lugano 1969 • A.B. Michelangeli with the Croatian pianist Vladimir Krpan
Val di Rabbi & a lawsuit (1)
The peace and calm were rudely interrupted on the evening of 13 June 1968. As a partner of the B.D.M. recording company of Bologna Benedetti Michelangeli was involved in the bankruptcy of the latter. Without being over-particular and without paying attention to the clauses of the contract which would have exonerated the Maestro from all liability, the bailiffs served him a precautionary distrainment on his property and on all the proceeds of the concerts that he would have held in Italy, for the amount of eighty-nine million Lire. In addition to the humiliation and moral damage, this caused him considerable financial problems, which forced him to carry out his professional activities abroad. He maintained his residence in Bolzano, but from that moment on he spent his time between Rabbi and Switzerland and never ever played again in his homeland, except on the occasion of the charity concert at the Teatro Grande in Brescia, in June 1980, in commemoration of Pope Paul VI.
Benedetti Michelangeli entered Switzerland on 24th July 1969 (this is the official date shown on all the documents filed in the registry offices of the various towns in which, one after the other, he was domiciled) and first lived in the Canton of Zurich.
(It is said that he lived on the island of San Giulio, prior to his departure to nearby Switzerland. One of the oldest villas was owned by Cesare Augusto Tallone.)
Towards the end of September of the following year he obtained a residence permit in Canton Ticino, thanks to the intervention of Gianna Guggenbühl and maestro Carlo Florindo Semini, who put in a good word on his behalf with Dr. Solari of the Federal Police Bureau for Foreign Citizens in Berne. In 1969 and in 1971, together with Semini, he created two specialisation courses in Villa Hélénaeum in Castagnola, the last ones of his career as a teacher.
Until September 1974 he lived in Massagno, then in Riva San Vitale and Sagno, where he moved in December 1977. On 1st August 1979 he went to live in Pura, in the rented villa that some time later he was to leave to another great pianist, Vladimir Ashkenazy. He then moved to a house immersed in the shade of the chestnut groves, just a few hundred metres down the road from the previous house; here he spent the last years of his life, far from the hue and cry and the crowds, in almost Franciscan simplicity. The suffering caused by his precarious health was alleviated by the care and attention of Anne-MarieJosé Gros Dubois, who was also his faithful secretary.
In an interview in Nice after a concert, he stated that he had left Italy with no hope of returning. When asked by a reporter whether this was an “Italian divorce?” Michelangeli replied: “In Italy I suffered the consequences of a misunderstanding that ultimately resulted in nothing more than administrative harassment. And very expensive ones. My mission is not martyrdom, I have better things to do than defend myself. Regret? More like disillusionment. I come from Tyrol and the city of Lugano – where I settled a few months ago – I feel good.” When asked if this decision was final, the pianist replied that “the world is vast and I have not yet explored it all. Just as I have not yet explored my art in depth. The knowledge we have about the piano still leaves at least half of its possibilities in the shade. I will certainly die before I have broadened the horizon of our knowledge…”. Corriere della Sera, 11. 4. 1969
Conductor Sergiu Celibidache, in an interview with an Italian journalist in 1983, when asked which soloist he had worked with he remembered the most, replied: “Benedetti Michelangeli. How could you let him leave Italy? There is an incredible camaraderie and harmony between us. […] I remember that my professor, after hearing him play Schumann’s Carnaval, said to me: “Look, I don’t think any German has ever gone so deep in interpretation. […] Truly unique! And he knows it in a way. We recently played a concerto by Ravel
in London. At the end, a lady came into the dressing room: “Oh! Master, what would Ravel say if he heard this?!” and Michelangeli replied: “It doesn’t matter. Did you like it?” “
Corriere della Sera, 19. 10. 1983
Val di Rabbi & a lawsuit (2)
Pietro Zullino in Bergamo for Epoca, 8 September 1968:
Caught in the throes of a complex legal case, Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli has seen his home, his pianos, and even a portion of his future earnings seized. Embittered, the great pianist has isolated himself from the world and is contemplating a shocking decision: never to play in public again.
A great pianist of our time, he no longer owns anything. He was indirectly involved in the bankruptcy of a record company, and all his assets are currently under seizure. Michelangeli risks being left homeless. The pianos on which he continues to dramatically pursue perfection no longer belong to him. Even the proceeds from his future concerts have been seized. When he learned of this, Michelangeli was giving a lesson to a group of students. "Oh really?" he exclaimed, his face hardened, "Then I'll never play for people again. Never again."
What possessions do they want to take away from this forty-eight-year-old man, sick and childless? Simply put: a cabin in the upper Rabbi Valley, near Trento. More or less the kind of house an angel on a temporary mission on this earth would like to have. Halfway to heaven, immersed in the most muffled of silences, Michelangeli needs that cabin, that subtle air. But perhaps he will lose it. Inside the little house, the most valuable objects are the pianos: two Petrofs and a Forster. They have let the maestro know that he can go and use the instruments if he wishes: no one wants to stop him from playing.
Right here in Bergamo, the circle of close friends, the crowd of those who aspire to become students, his wife, his devoted servants, and even some lawyers, all these people seem pervaded by feelings of horror and revulsion, as would happen to a group of believers at the sight of a desecrated altar. The sacrilege, in this case, consists in the fact that the maestro's inner universe has been disrupted, the harmony of his spirit has been threatened by the poisons and miseries of everyday life.
"Deceiving him is as easy as deceiving a child: he can't defend himself, you understand?" Yes: even before stating with certainty that every misunderstanding will soon be cleared up because Benedetti Michelangeli is not at fault, the disciples are keen to point out that he could not be at fault in any way. His kingdom is not of this world, and the absurd laws of this world cannot apply to him either.
"He doesn't make music," they add, "he is music: and unfortunately, we won't always have him with us... Anyone who disturbs his passage on earth doesn't realize that he's committing a crime against humanity."
<<Egli non fa della musica », aggiungono, << egli è la musica: e purtroppo non lo
avremo sempre con noi... Chi disturba questo suo passaggio sulla terra non si rende conto che commette un delitto di lesa umanità. »
...
Despite the high demands and fabulous offers from all over the world, the maestro
has recorded very little. It's a true absurdity: the greatest living pianist risks not being passed down to posterity. The rare microgrooves, and even the archaic 78 rpm recordings, are the object of feverish buying and selling among European, American, and Asian amateurs.
Michelangeli still studies furiously. He knows he has surpassed himself many
times. For this very reason, ultimately, he only grants thirty concerts a year, when he could perform a hundred, at two million each. Benedetti Michelangeli knows that he can't play in a state of grace an unlimited number of times. "I don't want to defraud the public," he often repeats. With a series of records, he would become a multimillionaire in a few months. The Italian market couldn't bring him wealth, but the global one could.
To give us an idea of the popularity Benedetti Michelangeli enjoys abroad, two episodes, two memories suffice. In 1964, in Russia, the maestro performed in packed halls twice their already enormous capacity. The Tass agency declared that Moscow and Leningrad had never given such a success to a performer, except perhaps violinist Yehudi Menuhin. Benedetti Michelangeli, notoriously stingy with encores, had to give them continuously until four in the morning: after which a cheering crowd accompanied him in triumph to
his hotel...
...
In 1965, some devoted friends from Bologna managed to strike up a conversation with the maestro about the opportunity to offer the world a comprehensive overview of his piano art. Little by little, he seemed to be convinced. He was offered guarantees on the point that was closest to his heart: Commercial interests would not prevail over artistic ones, the music to be performed would be chosen by him and him alone, recordings would be made exclusively when the maestro truly felt at the peak of his form and inspiration.
The BDM Poliphon company was born. The acronym was formed from the initials of the surnames of the three founding members: Boccanegra, Di Matteo, and Michelangeli. The editorial program included performances of Bach, Handel, Galuppi, Scarlatti, Paradisi, Daquin, Chambonnières, and Couperin, Clementi, Beethoven, Schumann,
Chopin minor (minore?), Mendelssohn minor, Debussy, Ravel, and others.
The first microgroove was released in 1966. On one side, Scarlatti and Galuppi, on the other, Beethoven. It didn't sell out. That microgroove was also intended to remain the only one. Shortly thereafter, BDM Poliphon entered a crisis. According to one
version, Boccanegra and Di Matteo were unable to obtain further performances from Michelangeli. Perhaps the recording hadn't pleased the maestro.
However, the relationship between Michelangeli was not interrupted but transformed.
BDM became BDM Spa. Headquarters: Bologna, capital: 128 million, managing directors:
Nicola and Giandonato Di Matteo. This is the company that was declared bankrupt last March. Among the shareholders were some well-known figures from the Bologna industrial world. New offices, a shop, and an auditorium were opened.
Although it also launched young pop singers and skilled trumpet players, the
strong point of BDM Spa remained Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, who this time was "tied" to the company with a regular and detailed contract. The document listed the records to be made, the dates by which each recording had to be completed, as well as the penalties
that Michelangeli would pay the company for each failure to perform: fifteen million.
At the time of signing, Benedetti Michelangeli, according to his alleged creditors, pocketed eleven million as an advance on his final dues. Even on this point, due to the Michelangeli clan's stubborn secrecy, we only have news from the other side: the maestro reportedly earned twenty million per record, plus ten percent on sales. A profit that for the performance of a normal set of sonatas would be fabulous, but which becomes barely acceptable if one reflects on the unique and exceptional nature of the BDM edition.
He plays only when he feels in a state of grace.
It is at this point that the whole story becomes unclear. On one side, we have a company that, despite knowing Michelangeli's whimsical nature, forces him to sign a contract
containing clauses for any breaches. On the other, we have an artist intolerant of any imposition, who for once accepts those strict clauses despite knowing that complying with them would cost him a great deal of effort. Then trouble strikes. Michelangeli doesn't perform the pieces and doesn't pay the penalties. But something even more extraordinary happens: despite the strict clauses and the obvious default of the other party,
BDM avoids suing Michelangeli. It is covered in debt, obsessed with creditors, but it doesn't take out the famous contract that could have saved itself. It risks bankruptcy, and indeed fails, but it refuses to use that lifeline, which will later be "discovered" by the trustee of its insolvency.
The Michelangeli clan has made only one comment so far. It says, but without explaining further, BDM "took advantage of the maestro's naivety."
Michelangeli's lawyers claim they can prove that BDM was the first to fail to fulfil its contract. These are, in any case, the broad outlines of the dispute, on which the Court of Bologna will rule in October. Who is right? Who is wrong? The Di Matteo brothers, BDM's managing directors, knew that Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli lives from his music and subordinates all his other interests to it. The piano, for him, is a religion. When a concert date approaches, Micheangeli enters a state of anguished exaltation. He spends entire days locked in a room with his piano, but most of the time he doesn't play. He paces for hours and hours, mentally reviewing the score and occasionally tapping time with his toes. He hardly speaks anymore, doesn't want to see anyone, eats very little, stops drinking and smoking, reads a few ancient poets, and confides only in the tuner of his instrument, the faithful Tallone. Until they see him climb onto the stage and sit at the piano, the concert organizers don't feel at ease. Because while it's true that Michelangeli has played with
a fever of 100 degrees, or with three cracked ribs following a car accident, it's also true
that he has often canceled his engagements at the last minute. If Michelangeli feels in a state of grace, there's nothing that can stop him from playing. But when he doesn't feel inspired, nothing can convince him to perform: least of all a signed contract.
The recording studio, besides, is unbearable for him. The only technician he trusts is Professor Righini, but he lives in Turin and can't be at his disposal permanently.
If he could, Michelangeli would only record during a real concert. Once, he summoned BDM technicians to Tel Aviv. He said that he felt in perfect shape and that he would finally be able to make a beautiful microgroove. The technicians flew to Tel Aviv with
their equipment, but the recording couldn't be done that time either.
...
What he really loves, after all, is teaching. "Music is a right, for those who deserve it."
But even on this ground, he clashed harshly with offices or people who wanted to make him respect laws, regulations, or contracts. The Ministry of Education closed a school for him, in Bolzano, because Michelangeli didn't behave like a real teacher, didn't keep records, and in the morning, when he came in, he forgot to sign the attendance register. So he preferred to go it alone. He began wandering from city to city, creating his own schools, or accepting enthusiastic private parties to provide one for him.
Sometimes the experiment lasted. But if legal and bureaucratic structures began to proliferate around his teacher's chair, Michelangeli felt suffocated and left
as soon as possible. His "escape" from Arezzo in 1964, when he left the "Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli International Piano Academy" in the lurch, where he felt neither free nor happy, remained historic.
...
Now he has on his hands a group of young people who came from Japan. These people had the fate of seeing Michelangeli disturbed, shocked, unrecognizable by the developments of the BDM bankruptcy. And the only true words of consolation, for the greatest Italian pianist, are spoken in Japanese.