Salzburg

Dear friends of piano music,

on that day a myth died for me - the Salzburg Festival. From early childhood I had imagined what a significant and overwhelming event it had to be - festivals, sacred sounds in sacred halls, played by the gods of music. Additionally there was this city - Salzburg, the city of Mozart, it had to be a shimmering place of almost unearthly beauty. And then that. It was a couple of years ago and, as far as I can remember, Austria was almost completely under water. The sky had really opened all the locks, and after we had made it into the underground car park by car, I wondered whether it would be completely flooded when we returned. A city tour was out of the question, at most with armbands and diving goggles. To make matters worse, I'd bravely decided to put on a pink sequined suit, and when I wasn't thinking about the flood, I kept wondering whether that choice of clothes was wise or whether I just looked like Miss Piggy from Sesame Street. In any case, I was the only one there in such a disguise. Then the concert finally began, and after just a few bars the middle-aged Japanese lady sitting next to me nodded off and fell on me. She must have been terribly jet-lagged because she couldn't be woken up. Of course, I was also very careful, I tried to gently straighten her up, but she kept falling over. to my side.  Since I didn't want to risk her falling forward off the chair and landing roughly on her nose, I finally gave up and tried to follow the concert somehow. Oh what a disaster. I never went there again ......

It is actually not that bad if someone falls asleep in a concert, as long as it is not the performing artist himself. Much more disturbing than the sleepers themselves are often those who want to put an end to this supposed shame. So once I sat in the audience, Schumann's fairy tale pictures  („Märchenbilder“) were given, and the somewhat stout gentleman next to me really only snored very softly. His wife was very uncomfortable, she poked him again and again in the ribs: "Herrmann, wake up!" Herrmann woke up obediently, and then a few moments later, as if hypnotized by this actually very harmonizing music, added his sonorous snoring to the concert, whereupon his wife became educational "Herrmann, not again" ....

I was also able to observe a tangible marriage quarrel once in a concert, unfortunately among the performers, it was some kind of double concerto for two violins with piano reduction, and there was no musical agreement at all, played bravely to the bitter end, discussed briefly, and then resigned to want to play it all over again. It was supposed to be a reparation, but I had to pull myself together not to run out of the hall screaming. It was actually only slightly better the second time. Once I also cried in the concert audience, it wasn't because of emotion, but out of disappointment. It was the love of the poet – „Dichterliebe“ , I was so looking forward to it, and it was sung so lovelessly. Maybe the singer had upset his stomach, or an argument with his wife just before the concert. , I don't know, at least it was a bitter disappointment for me at the time. But I'm not the only one in the audience who sometimes sits and cries - I was once at a performance by „Boris Godunov“ , and on the parapet of the first tier sat a tall, bearded man and cried throughout the whole performance. He sobbed pitifully and kept throwing his arms up at the sky. At first I thought about whether he was part of the production, but which actor can cry for over two hours without a break? Poor guy.

Finally, a few bad anecdotes from my own podium experiences. As a child, I played the“ Pathetique“  in the town hall of my hometown. Unfortunately, I didn't practice too much, I preferred to read, and this preference was my undoing. I read "Bösendorfer" and thought: Bösendorfer, Bösendorfer, Bösewicht - "Bösewicht" means „villain“ in German. And Beethoven had already said goodbye, but after a moment of shock I just played a terribly loud C minor chord and somehow got back on track. I really prefer to play chamber music because they don't expect me to play without notes. Once we were on tour with the piano class of my Münster professor with the Chopin etudes, giving concerts in the numerous moated castles in the Münsterland, and shortly before a concert my etude was suddenly swapped. I really did practice my fingers sore, but shortly before the end of the concert I flew out of the curve, so to speak, got up, bowed me, tried to leave the room with dignity - and stumbled over the edge of the carpet to fly out of the curve a second time. Still - the Salzburg Festival was significantly worse.

Best whishes, Kerstin