In the meantime I’ve been looking through my slightly chaotic archive of pieces by Billy Mayerl, to see if there were any I’d forgotten about. Many of the pieces were posted to me years ago by people who thought I might be interested in learning a particular piece long out of print. Mayerl’s later pieces are intriguing. There seems to come a point when, for better or worse, he abandons the cheery ’syncopated style’ which was his trademark and takes to writing in a kind of early-Debussy style of smoothly flowing quavers and semiquavers. These later pieces have their own charm, but they lack the bite and crunch of his earlier, jazzier numbers. As a pianist, though, I can certainly understand that one might get fed up with writing the kind of ‘Oom-CHAH, oom-CHAH’ jumping bass lines which characterise those pieces and give the pianist’s left wrist such a brutal workout. Oh boy, do I still remember what that felt like when I made the ‘Loose Elbows’ disc!

More on Mayerl is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

‘Desert Island Discs’ is a long-running radio series in which each ‘castaway’ chooses the eight records they’d like to take to an imaginary desert island. In between musical choices, they talk about their lives and speculate about how they’d manage on the island. At the end, they get to choose a book and a luxury they’d like to take with them.

During the week there had been trailers for the programme, mentioning that David Attenborough had chosen ‘a rather surprising luxury’. I was curious to know what it was.

And guess what? It was a piano. Since when is that ‘a rather surprising luxury’?

Yes, OK, as a musician I suppose I’d be bound to feel outraged on behalf of pianos. Perhaps whoever wrote the trailer only meant that it was ’surprising’ for a naturalist to choose a musical instrument – though personally I don’t find it in the least unusual, given people’s breadth of interests. And if I were to be cast away on a desert island, none of my friends would be in the least surprised if my luxury were an raccoon or an otter to keep me company.

Attenborough’s ’surprising luxury’ is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

My disc has been in and out of print for some time now, but people never stop asking where they can get hold of it. It sometimes pops up, for an astonishing variety of prices, on collectors’ websites, and Amazon has recently made individual tracks available as mp3 files. But no record company has shown interest in a new disc of Mayerl’s music.

Recently, at a series of London concerts, several people asked me if I had a new Mayerl recording in the pipeline. I realised I was fed up with saying no. Instead, I’m wondering about recording some new tracks played by me in my own home. In these days of recordings being manicured to within an inch of their lives, I think there could be something special about hearing what a musician sounds like by their own fireside.

My plan is to record some new Mayerl pieces, and sell them track by track as downloads on my website. If it goes well, maybe I’ll move on to other composers.

But first I’d like to get some idea of whether people out there would buy my new Billy Mayerl tracks – pieces that don’t appear on the ‘Loose Elbows’ disc. Feedback would be welcome – either as a ‘comment’ on this post (which will be visible to everyone), or by writing to me privately at susan@susantomes.com. An easy way to do that is to click on the ’send her an e-mail’ link under my tiny photo, in the left hand column of this page.

Billy Mayerl piano music recording project is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

“I don’t really think people get that absorbed in music at the moment,” says Simons. “They’re streaming it, they’re watching YouTube clips. People say ‘I listened to this’ and you think ‘Yeah, did you listen to it on computer speakers?’

This surprised me for several reasons: first, to hear that people ‘don’t get that absorbed in music at the moment’ (not my impression at all, I must say, but I’m in a different field of music). Second, to hear Ed Simons putting forward computer speakers as the better way to listen to music.

If it had been my interview, I would have answered differently – ‘People are listening to music on computer speakers. People say ‘I listened to this’ and you think, ‘Yes, but have you heard us play live? Recordings are nothing in comparison.’

Listening on computer speakers is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

I felt some kind of vicarious pleasure in the success of the film precisely because it is such an unlikely one to do well in today’s climate of in-your-face, crank-up-the-volume movies. It left me with the happy feeling that if you follow your instinct and insist on doing what you believe in, you’ll be sure eventually to find people who appreciate your work – lots of them, in the case of The Artist.

‘The Artist’ is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

Our waiter glided away and came back with two more carrot muffins which he said would ‘make up a nice number for the family’. He took the three muffins away to pack them up. When it was time to leave, however, I had forgotten all about them. We left the restaurant and had walked a block away when we heard running footsteps behind us, and there was our beaming waiter in his stripey apron, pursuing us with a beautifully-packed blue bag of muffins. Talk about looking after your customers!

Exit, pursued by a waiter is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

While she was working on the translation this week, Noriko sent me this charming photo of her little black cat watching over her, with Japanese New Year decorations in the background. You can see my book on the floor, as well as Noriko’s dictionaries and the notebook in which she writes her translations longhand.

My Japanese colleagues is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

One of our Christmas presents this year was Dan Lepard’s Short and Sweet, a wonderful new book of baking recipes – breads, cakes, pies, desserts. The word ‘short’ presumably refers to pastry and not to the book itself, which is notably long (and sweet).

My eye fell almost at once on the cheesecake recipes. I often try to make cheesecake, using various recipes, but am rarely satisfied with the results. I’ve never really managed to replicate the first cheesecake I ever loved, sold at the cheese stall in Cambridge market in my student days. Immoderate consumption thereof was probably one reason why I put on so much weight in my first student year.

Anyway, on Boxing Day I thought I’d have a go at Dan Lepard’s recipe for East End Cheesecake, the closest he says he could get to the famous variety sold by Grodzinski’s bakery. My cheesecake looked lovely on a sky-blue plate at a dinner that evening. Before I had tried it myself, a couple of my guests tasted theirs and suddenly cut across the conversation with glad cries of, ‘Wow! This is gorgeous.’ It was, too. The ingredients were not so different from other cheesecakes I’ve made, but there were a couple of innovations in the method, notably the instruction to boil cream and butter, and to pour this boiling liquid onto the cream cheese before mixing. That slightly caramelised cream-and-butter combo gave a delectable fillip to the taste, evoking a high-class Middle European Konditorei rather than a suburban kitchen. So Dan Lepard’s ‘East End’ recipe is my new favourite.

Short and Sweet is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

‘I’m making my Mum’s Christmas present’, she replied. ‘It’s a pair of long socks with the opening lines of ‘Beowulf‘ knitted into them. I’ve been at it since May! My Mum loves Beowulf.’ I looked closer and saw that, indeed, the socks were covered with tiny words in Old English script. To make it even more impressive, the basic colour of the socks was a kind of oatmeal, with the tiny letters standing out in a delicate mushroom brown, so the effect was subtle unless you knew what you were seeing.

After I had realised that an artwork was unfolding in front of me, I couldn’t concentrate on my book, but had to keep sneaking a look at the tiny Anglo-Saxon words as they emerged from the gently clicking needles. I don’t remember when I last saw anything so skilful.

Beowulf is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

The Portrait Gallery is in a most attractive old building and always has interesting exhibitions. Moreover, it has a very nice cafe. Before it closed for renovation, the cafe used to serve delightful cheese scones, large and golden-brown with a real ‘kick’ of cheese. I missed these scones during the two-year closure, and was worried that they would have disappeared from the menu when the Gallery re-opened. Cheekily, I e-mailed the Gallery’s management team to ask. With perfect politeness they replied that yes, indeed, cheese scones would be back on the menu, and they hoped I would enjoy my visit. They did not reproach me for having my priorities all wrong. I feel this is the mark of a civilised establishment.

I already knew they were civilised. Some years ago I visited the Gallery when I had awful bronchitis. In one of the exhibition rooms I was overtaken by a bout of coughing so bad that I thought I might need medical help. One of the attendants brought me a chair, and quietly cleared the room of visitors. I sat there gradually getting my breath back, watched silently by the famous Scots gazing down at me from their frames.

Cheese scones is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

A year later, however, people in Cambridge were out in their shirt-sleeves in intense November sunshine. Lots of people were still punting on the river (see photo). The light was particularly beautiful, and I annoyed everyone by stopping to try and capture one poetical scene after another. By the time we got back to London, however, mist had descended; we emerged from the tube into dark wintry wetness which made the Cambridge sunshine seem very far away.

There has been a lot of talk about another harsh winter, but we have a young friend who works in weather forecasting, and he told us that it is impossible to predict the weather accurately more than a few days ahead. Anything else is pure guesswork.

November sun is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

For this series, I’ve been preparing nearly twenty works by Mozart – duo sonatas and solo piano pieces. It’s not often that one gets the chance to be so steeped in the work of a particular composer, tackling so many works in a short period of time. I’ve known these works for a long time but have never had a reason to practise them, round and round, so intensively.

Musicians always say that Mozart is one of the most demanding of composers because his music is ’so exposed’. Every note counts and has to be heard in the right relation to the notes around it. Everything has to sound clear and balanced, but not effortful, because the lightness and sense of fun are also essential. On the other hand, the apparent lightness must never conceal the deep feelings running through, or underneath, many of the passages. The balance between the elements of the music is more beautifully judged, and on a finer scale, than that of any other music I know. The more I look into it, the more I respect it. It’s nice to be spending so much time with this music. When the work is going well, I find that it has a very good effect on me.

Living with Mozart is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

I’m particularly pleased about one rose, an Ena Harkness, which has taken ages to get established in our garden, and for the past few years has been producing flowers very tentatively. I chose it because ‘Ena Harkness’ was my mother’s favourite rose. It’s always struck me as the ‘red, red rose’ of Robert Burns’s poem, also a favourite of my mum’s. This month our Ena Harkness has suddenly outdone the other roses in splendour.

‘Oh, my luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June.
Oh, my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.’

November roses is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

We went for coffee in an outstandingly beautiful lounge reserved for Fellows of the College. Several older gentlemen were reading or working quietly on laptops. My companion pointed out several of them, names known to me from the world of politics and literature. So as not to disturb them, we took our coffee to an adjoining room where I was startled to see some famous paintings on the walls.  Although I was only there for a short time, I could feel myself starting to relax and enter an enjoyable trance-like state. Imagine the quality of work one could do there! How different life would be if you had access to such a place whenever you wanted it! Alas, all too soon it was time to tear myself away and do some teaching, but I cherished the image of those peaceful rooms for the rest of the day.

In Oxford is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

Then suddenly and rather shockingly this week, all the cygnets were gone. There was no corps de ballet any more. The two parent swans were idly pestering passers-by for bits of bread. Where have the young ones gone? Do they take it into their heads to fly away and seek new homes, and if so, do they all depart at the same time?  Will each cygnet try to seek out a separate home, or have they all gone off together? How far do they go? Will they ever return?

Look, no cygnets is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

In the light of that experience, I cringed inwardly when I read the Guardian obituary of Latin-pop bandleader Edmundo Ros. After a long and successful career, Ros finally fell out with his band members after one particular tour, and on his return ‘he sent his orchestra’s sheet music archive to be shredded at the Bank of England’.

What a gesture! I sat there amid my piles of music trying to imagine how it would feel if they were all gone for good. Would it be a huge relief, or would there be a crippling sense of wrongness and regret? There was something deeply operatic about Ros’s behaviour – not simply deciding to shred his sheet music archive, which is already a striking gesture, but sending it to be shredded at the Bank of England. Why there? I felt there was some important information being withheld. Was there some special point being made, and to whom? Can anyone send stuff to be shredded at the Bank of England? I wondered where I’d send my archive of sheet music to be shredded, should I wish to make a point.

Shredding sheet music is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

Dumplings is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

Everyone who knows the film ‘Amadeus’ will remember the scene in which Mozart’s body is carted off in dreadful winter weather, to be thrown into a common grave outside the city, with no family members present. Strange as it may seem, that was not unusual at the time. The emperor had forbidden the use of new coffins because of a shortage of wood, and he had passed a law that bodies were to be buried in linen shrouds to speed decomposition. Mourners often did not follow the cortege beyond the city walls.

Mozart’s wife Konstanze apparently did not try to find out exactly where he had been buried until almost half a century later, by which time there was a great deal of interest in Mozart’s life. As an old lady herself, Konstanze went for the first time to Sankt Marx to consult the archivists, but so long after the event they could only say that such-and-such an area of the graveyard was in use for common graves in 1791. Now there is a small, rather unlovely monument with Mozart’s name on it (see picture) and even ‘a grave’ marked out in flowers, which must mislead many people into thinking that his body lies exactly there. It probably lies somewhere beneath the lawn, but nobody knows where. Today there is nothing to explain that ‘Mozart’s grave’ is just a well-meaning municipal attempt to supply visitors with a focal point.

‘Mozart’s grave’ is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

It was suggested by the panel of experts that classical musicians are more inhibited than other musicians about admitting to their injuries. This is probably in proportion to the length of time classical musicians have been practising their instrument (often since childhood) and planning their future as performers.

Those who had suffered injuries while at college had ‘negative recollections’ of the help offered. The lack of help is a hard thing to quantify, given that sufferers find it hard to admit to their problems in the first place. But there were some very sad stories of students finding that their teachers had nothing helpful to suggest, or were even alienated by the suffering student before them. The situation is improving, but slowly and patchily.

On the positive side, those who had recovered from an injury often felt that the enforced break had helped them to gain perspective, and to ‘let go’ and enjoy music more when they resumed playing. Breaking the obsessive pattern of practising and being forced to find other goals in life, even for a short while, had long-term benefits. Years later, some musicians were even able to say that the injury ‘turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me’. This is not guaranteed, alas, especially if the sufferer has to abandon thoughts of a career in music.

I learned one thing I didn’t know before: that the British Association for Performing Arts Medicine runs free clinics in a number of UK cities for musicians with playing-related problems. (You can book an appointment through their website.) Much of the treatment is free, and in more complicated cases, BAPAM can refer people to specialist help whose cost is often greatly reduced for musicians. I wish I had known this earlier – but at least I know it now.

Performing Arts Medicine is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog

The Trondheim International Chamber Competition finished on Sunday with the Trio Paul Klee, from Paris, as the winners of the first prize. The London-based Fournier Trio (see photo) won the second prize and the Audience Prize, which will bring them back to Trondheim next year for a series of concerts. Third prize went to the Atanassov Trio, also from Paris. All three groups had tremendous qualities, and look set for fine careers.

Curiously enough the Final Round, at least in my view, was less impressive than the earlier rounds. All the participants had to play either Schubert’s B flat Trio or Beethoven’s Archduke, and it suddenly seemed as if they all felt they were little people walking around in giant’s shoes. This is, I think, a tribute to the sheer grandeur of those pieces of music. However, despite the Final not being quite as satisfying as I had hoped, the standard of playing overall was very high. I will treasure in particular the memory of the second round, in which the Atanassov Trio and the Fournier Trio played Schumann no 2 so beautifully, and the Trio Paul Klee were so wonderfully attuned to Brahms.

Klee, Fournier, Atanassov Trios is a post from the Susan Tomes: Pianist & writer blog