excerpt from 'With Florestan in Australia and New Zealand, September/October 2001' pp. 116-117 (212 words)

excerpt from 'With Florestan in Australia and New Zealand, September/October 2001' pp. 116-117 (212 words)

part of

With Florestan in Australia and New Zealand, September/October 2001

original language

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

in pages

116-117

type

text excerpt

encoded value

The concert is certainly the most depressing of the tour. For a start the new theatre (unfinished in many details because they ran out of money) is bleak and cheerless, very cold backstage, and with a Japanese piano.... The tone seems to 'stop dead' as soon as it is produced, especially in the treble.... On days like this I envy my colleagues, who always have their own instruments with them, and never have to face the limitations of unsatisfactory pianos as I do. ... Every piano is different, many of them are not as nice as mine at home, and in every place there's a very limited time to get used to the unknown piano.

... This coldness somehow affects the whole evening. Though we do our best, there's a sense of blankness from the audience, and this is borne out afterwards... 'That was a lovely bit of music.' 'Very pleasant evening.' 'You all seemed to enjoy yourselves!' One woman tells me this was the first time she'd heard Beethoven's E flat Trio, opus 70 no. 2. I ask her what she thought of it. 'Well!' she says. 'I thought the third movement had a lovely waltzy feel.' So it does, but somehow this remark sends me home in low spirits.

appears in search results as

excerpt from 'With Florestan in Australia and New Zealand, September/October 2001' pp. 116-117 (212 words)

1404933014457:

reported in source

1404933014457

documented in
Page data computed in 274 ms with 1,775,448 bytes allocated and 35 SPARQL queries executed.