1. The life of a concert pianist
As many of you know, I play the piano professionally and once dreamed of becoming a concert
pianist.
I began piano lessons at the age of seven, with a private teacher in Rochester, N.Y., who had
gotten her degree in piano pedagogy from the renowned Eastman School of Music. She was a
great teacher, although she had a terrible temper and I was scared to death of her until I got
older and became her best pupil. By then we’d developed a sort of peer relationship, and grew
very close. She was in many ways like a second mother to me, and through the years,
whenever I visited Rochester, a get together with Mrs. Melman was always a priority. When I
left Rochester at 17 for Indiana University, as a performance major in their famed music school,
I thought I was pretty hot stuff. What a shock to discover that I had only been a big fish in Mrs.
Melman’s small pond. My peers were now some of the most talented musicians in the world,
and it didn’t take long for me to realize that a concert career was not in the stars for me. Not
only were many of the other piano majors stiff competition, but I constantly battled severe
performance jitters, to the point where I realized that I simply didn’t have the temperament for a
concert career. I ended up being much happier in the world of chamber music, and eventually
left the music school for a BA in political science.
I never regretted that decision, because as a result, I learned to really enjoy music simply for
itself. I now give concerts from time to time, but only to share my enjoyment with others, not to
stroke my ego. It’s a very rewarding experience that makes me feel much closer to the music as
my audience and I become coparticipants in a truly fun experience.
If I ever had any doubts as to whether I should have pursued a concert career, however, they
were put to rest with a great big thud last Friday, when I attended the Hart Performing Arts
Series concert featuring the Ukrainian piano virtuoso Aline Kiryayeva.
Kiryayeva is such a fantastic artist that half the time I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Although I had, in my youth, played a few of the pieces on the program, like the Chopin “Black
Key” etude, Beethoven’s “Moonlight” sonata, Chopin’s Grand Valse Brilliante and a
Rachmaninoff prelude, Kiryayeva tossed off a pile of other works that are so difficult only
geniuses can read them, let alone play them.
Like Franz Liszt’s “La Campanella,” a fiendish etude that sounds, when successfully executed,
like 10 pianists are playing it. It has just about every technical hurdle you can imagine, and
demands a level of virtuosity that I can tell you I never achieved. Kiryayeva performed it
flawlessly. Not only flawlessly, but as if it was just another little old piece. I wondered how many
hours, or years, she had spent practicing it.
On the other hand, the great prodigies are famous for learning the most difficult works in a few
days or a week. They tend to have A) perfect pitch and B) photographic memories, so they can
absorb quantities of repertoire the way I can down a pot of macaroni and cheese.
Anyway, the concert was a total treat, not just because of the music but also because of
2. Kiryayeva’s delightful presentation. She prefaced each work with humorous anecdotes and
fascinating information. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that she’s a knockout—slender,
beautiful, floating around in a slinky, shimmering emerald gown that would have made her a
shoein for Asparagus Queen.
Naturally I was dying to talk to her. I introduced myself after the concert and asked if she’d have
time in the next couple of days for a phone interview. She was more than happy to oblige.
“I just have to ask you one thing,” I said, not wanting to take up her time as she was in the midst
of signing her CD, “Sonata.” “Very quickly, do you still practice every day?”
“Well, no,” she smiled. “Because I am so busy, giving concerts and teaching and doing
promotion—I am my own manager, you know. I’m around the computer much more than the
piano! So I don’t practice much anymore.”
Eat your heart out, Crain!
Anyway, we had a wonderful phone conversation the following day. Kiryayeva had just
performed another concert in Saugatuck, Mich. and had some breathing space. I noticed on her
website that in the next two months she’s booked everywhere from Florida to Texas.
“How many concerts do you do a year, would you say?” I asked her.
“Well, I’d say 30 to 90,” she estimated. “That includes chamber music and accompanying, but
this coming year I will be concentrating much more on solo performing, so I’ll be doing more
concerts.”
“You seem so selfassured onstage,” I noted, a little enviously. “This is probably a silly question,
but do you ever get nervous?”
“Are you kidding?” Kiryayeva laughed out loud. “I am mortified every time I go onstage!
Absolutely!”
I was astounded. “But you seemed absolutely calm!”
“Oh, no! I get very nervous, believe me. But it does get easier with time and experience. The
key is the years you put into practicing.”
And also into keeping in shape. What most people don’t know about practicing the piano is, you
have to have really strong arms. And, Kiryayeva reminds me, a strong back.
“Your back is your support,” she explains.
So does she work out?
“Oh, yes,” she says. “Six days a week, with weights.”
Even if Kiryayeva doesn’t practice so much now, she sure did when she was growing up. She
gave her first recital at age 8, playing pieces by Bach and Haydn, and by 11 was performing
with orchestras. Her beloved grandmother, who passed away last year, was her teacher and
her inspiration, and made sure she gave the piano her all.
