Saturday night we played our Itzhak Perlman special concert. It was a one-night affair, featuring Perlman playing the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. Works by Schubert and Brahms/Schoenberg rounded out the evening.
The dress rehearsal for the concert was Saturday morning. Perlman joined us (after we worked on the Schubert) for the Mendelssohn, joking with the stage crew about the color of the step that led to the platform on which he would sit for the rehearsal and performance. He looked well – he’s lost a substantial amount of weight over the past couple years, and though his hair has greyed, he still has the aura of a much younger man.
I thought about how many times I’d listened to recordings of this great violinist over the years. I particularly remembered how some of my violinist friends in the Tacoma Youth Symphony stayed up late and listened to his recording of the Brahms concerto on a boom box when were were on tour in the San Juan Islands. What commanding, soulful, and beguiling playing! Perlman was always a violinist put his soul through the violin – you heard it in his sound. I think that’s what made and still makes him such a charismatic presence, both as a player and as a symbol of joyful music-making.
Perlman is not, technically speaking, the player he once was. But he can still channel his soul through his fiddle. My wife, who I more and more think is an absolute genius, was reflecting with me on how musicians are treated as they age and lose their playing edge. She noted that Perlman might not be a technical wizard anymore, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve applause and recognition for his lifetime of great musical experiences that he’s brought to millions of people around the world. In a business where you’re only as good as your last performance, it’s worth remembering that a legacy of greatness is something to be cherished, recognized, and celebrated.
And that is what I thought of when I watched and listened to this great violinist, this great man, just about eight feet from me on the stage, play the slow movement of the Mendelssohn concerto. The lapses of tone and intonation faded away, and I was left with this great voice, expressing the musings of a great musical soul that is still compelled to share its thoughts with the public.
Thanks, Itzhak. It was a pleasure and an honor.
One reply on “on greatness”
I remember hearing him in St. Louis in 1966 — I was in grad school — a period when I went to a lot of concerts for the first time in my life. He played Prokofiev #2, and I remember being really mesmerized by the whole experience.
After I decided to write this, I wanted to check my facts: thanks to the internet, I was able to find this neat story about that concert!
http://www.playbillarts.com/features/article/211.html
He had performed on television several times: I recall seeing him on the Ed Sullivan show, no doubt sandwiched between a comedian and a dog act! But that night in St Louis still stands out in my mind, one effect being that the slow movement of that concerto remains one of my favorite pieces of music.
Thanks for your posting that brought back some very good memories!
Bill in Dallas