ANDREA BACCHETTI gives us a demonstration (and he does not know it) of Giambattista Vico’s (double-face) motto: “Knowing because of doing or: the man who does, knows”.
He indiscriminately listens to the most popular or to the most unknown dead prophets, which act as relics of the Golden Years, between the two world wars.
Religiously. And sometimes, without wanting at all, he imitates them.
It’s the sign that one drop (or two or three) of blue blood flows in his veins. And also his verses are religious, that is opposite than unholy.
Some of his discoveries? Here they are. Mozart’s Sonatas (Integrale) by M. Horzowski, whom he venerates as a Saint, and who is the only pianist who played for a Saint (Pio X, in 1906), that lived almost 100 years. Horzowski, Milan darling, above all in better times, was the third of the legendary disciples of the greatest teacher of any time, Theodor Leschetitzky: after Ignatz Friedman and Ignace Jan Paderewski.
He says there is nothing better than Horzowski’s version of unknown Mozart’s Sonatas (that are never academic or philological, but neither distorted in Horzowski’s hands) even overturning all sound results of the 30s and 40s. How could we say he’s wrong?
Unless we dig up that Rachmaninoff’s Mozart. He (secretly) lives for Chopin’s studies, and he nibbling relics upon relics (always from the Golden Years), especially Ignatz Friedman’s and Shura Cherkaassky’s. On the contrary, Shura Cherkassky’s and Ignatz Friedman’s. In sum, he always gets right. When he is forewarned, he regrets for an omission, Simon Barere’s one (from Odessa like Cherkassky and Friedman, De Pachmann, Moiseywitsch, Sapelnikov, etc.): whose Chopin’s Mazurkas (the few ones that remained!), he puts in Cherkassky’s and Friedman’s reliquary. So the circle of three most unregarded musicians of Golden years is closed: tragic unregarded persons the two from Odessa (are), Simon died on stage in 1951, in Carnegie.
Bacchetti is one of the family at “Serate Musicali”, by right. Tonight he is offering a “Totally Schumann”, as a spiritual exercise before the great Schumann of next Monday at the Scala, again for “Serate Musicali” with the Concert per piano and orchestra op.54 in minor La, conductor Chailly, Soloist Lucchesini, and Amsterdam Concertgebouw Orchestra.
If Schumann loves fragments, he is an intimist and an epigrammatist, Bacchetti (intimist) never wants to be his prophet.
But he puts a drop of blood in it (a blue drop). And he certainly plays better than that Clara-Chiarina Schumann about which Padereewski had to say:”Ach, eine mise Frau!” (“Ah, what a little woman!”), and Harold Bauer, (major pianist and violinist, popular above all for playing with Kreisler the “Kreutzer” at first as a pianist, with his fiend Fritz at violin, then as a violinist, with his friend Fritz on piano!), had to say: “ In Clara Schumann’s sound I can’t find any charm!”. Also the major Harold Bauer (major also as far as disregarding from posterity), noticed that Clara was in a hurry to arrive to the end, a hurry that at least was contagious.
Differently from Pompili, innocent and naïf, if Bacchetti is lacking a relic of a record, he feels stripped and robbed. And he turns every shop, and friends, relatives and lovers upside-down.
Each execution must be a “case” apart.
Bacchetti does no know that Hoffman, chez his first master Moszkowski had herd Bulow: “similar to Clara!”.
He does not know that Anton Rubinstein gave his "placet" for an execution to the little Joseph Hoffman (his only private student in Sanpietroburgo from 15 to 16 years old, they said even twice a week), but threatening him with his finger pointed to him: “It’s good for today since it’s sunny, but tomorrow that it’s cloudy, let’s change!”
Bacchetti does not know that meteorology is what matters.
The sun shining over keyboard (the moon is always better), but also clouds and storm are lucky, and a weeping of gentle rain, and much imaginary dew, and variety, not lacking of “truth”.
And surprise, eternal surprise, being able to say: “Enemy tedium, death to you!” Being able to say this with his fingers, that is with his soul.
Like poor Shura Cherkassky flattering himself: “Who is there here who plays with his soul?”
And yours truly tries hard to answer: “But soul is the great poison! There is not a bigger one. If you play with the soul, Master, you are the poison!”.
When Bacchetti knows, he does. However, even if he does not know, he arrives there the same (who knows how?). Maybe that drop of blood that flows into his veins!
What a curious colour of blood!