The New York Times - USA (2020-11-15)

My piano was overdue for a tuning in March,
when my apartment building and the rest of
New York City entered lockdown. All work
by “outside parties” like housekeepers was
not allowed, except for emergencies. An out-
of-tune piano hardly seemed an emergency.
Professional pianists across the city faced
the same predicament. “My piano was in
horrible condition,” Conrad Tao recalled re-
cently.
“I finally went out in March and bought a
tuning hammer,” he added, referring to the
standard tuning tool that is actually a
wrench-like lever. By tightening various
strings, he tried his best to make the worst
intervals between pitches, he said, a “little
better.”
Jeremy Denk — who, like many pianists,
doesn’t know “the first thing about piano
technology,” as he admitted in an interview
— summoned his skills of personal persua-
sion. “I got my super on board, though it was
dicey at the beginning,” he said. “I explained
that this was my work — that my technician
was essential.”

Why are pianists at such a loss when it
comes to understanding the mechanics of
their own instrument? This lack of knowl-
edge separates them from almost all other
instrumentalists. Not only can violinists,
clarinetists, harpists or flutists tune their in-
struments, and even bend pitches in per-
formance, they also, by and large, know
much more about how their instruments
work. In music school, I used to marvel at
oboe players who would sit at lunch talking
about different kinds of cane wood and the
various knives and such they used to make
their own reeds.
Most musicians own, maintain and per-
form on their own instruments. If you’re a
gifted young violinist, you may not have a
priceless 17th-century violin, but you likely
have a good instrument you can bond and
travel with.
When serious pianists tour, though, they
almost never bring their own instruments,
which require professional movers to trans-
port. From their student days, pianists are
compelled to develop adaptability. After
practicing a piece at home, a Conrad Tao or
Jeremy Denk must perform on whatever pi-
ano a hall has to offer. And some can be

pretty bad. Young pianists at the Juilliard

School have long traded battle stories of hav-

ing to play on a “real PSO” — a “piano-

shaped object.” Very fine pianos vary enor-

mously in terms of sound, action and respon-

siveness to touch. Even a superb Steinway in

a concert hall may take adjusting to, and

may not suit a pianist’s preferences.

“A lot of my job involves working with pi-

anists on this very problem,” Joel Bernache,

a technician with Steinway & Sons in New

York, said in an interview. Steinway has long

held a contract to provide and maintain con-

cert grand pianos for Carnegie Hall. There

are currently two at the ready at Stern Audi-

torium, Carnegie’s main stage: an American

Steinway, from New York, and a German

Steinway, from the company’s factory in

Hamburg. Though Mr. Bernache said both

are “clear and bright,” the New York piano is

a bit louder and produces more of a funda-

mental tone, or “bottom.” The Hamburg one

has “a cleaner and more transparent sound.

You could say it’s more ‘direct.’ ” (These in-

struments only last about five or six years,

and in some cases 10; today’s pianists aren’t

hitting the same keys Rubinstein touched.)

The keyboard mechanism of a grand pi-

ano is a complex system of interconnected

parts, starting from the plastic-covered

wooden key and ending with the shank with

a felt-covered “hammer” that lifts to strike

the strings. There are three dozen adjustable

components for each key mechanism, and 88

total keys. Many pianists who come to Car-

negie to try out the pianos ask for subtle ad-

justments to be made before a concert. That

task often falls to Mr. Bernache.

“As a technician, I’m kind of all that’s be-

tween pianists and their performance,” he

said. Some soloists complain even about

Carnegie’s pianos.

“They’ll say, ‘The action is too stiff,’ ” Mr.

Bernache said. But that criticism can mean

different things to different pianists. Mr.

Bernache can make adjustments by lubri-

cating the internal parts, or slightly chang-

ing the key dip — that is, the level the key

goes up or down. Often, this can give a pian-

ist the impression that an instrument is easi-

er to play, the sense that more sound is com-

ing out. Mr. Bernache emphasized that

“sound and touch are inextricable.”

He mentioned Daniil Trifonov as an exam-

ple of a pianist who has such tremendous

technique that adjusting to an unfamiliar in-

strument is seldom an issue; fine points of

touch matter “far less to him than the overall

playability of the piano and the sound it

produces, the volume and lingering quality.”

But in the case of a famous pianist Mr.

Bernache did not want to identify, every se-

lection is “a crisis of decision.” At one point

when Carnegie offered three pianos for this

artist to choose from, Mr. Bernache recalled,

“he couldn’t decide which one he hated the

least.”

Mr. Denk said he had worked with some

“amazing” piano technicians, but remained

a little confused by what they do. “Some-

times they’re mystified by me when what I

express doesn’t translate into any specific

measurement,” he added. A keyboard can

feel “spongy” or “alert,” he said. But those

imprecise physical sensations are com-

pletely affected by his impression of the

sound coming from the instrument.

And yet, Mr. Denk said, he has not been

tempted to gain more knowledge about the

mechanics of the piano. “It would just be

something else to worry about” before a per-

formance, he explained. “When I arrive, I try

not to panic. You let the piano speak to you;

you get acquainted and adjust.”

Gilbert Kalish, a longtime professor of pi-

ano performance at the State University of

New York at Stony Brook, said he found the

necessity of adjusting to quite different pi-

anos an “interesting challenge.” He empha-

sizes to his students: “You don’t play by feel;

you don’t play by habit; you play by sound,

by listening to what’s being produced. You

have to learn to trust yourself, not to depend

on someone out there listening.”

Many people might assume that a pianist

would prefer the piano with the least resist-

ance in the action. Not necessarily. “Some re-

sistance allows for more contrast,” Mr.

Kalish said. With a lighter action, he has

found, it’s “harder to be subtle with dynam-

ics, to create greater contrasts.”

Among the leading pianists of our time,

Mitsuko Uchida is known for her unusually

detailed knowledge of the piano’s mechanics

and her high standards. She has worked

with some of the top technicians in the world,

but since 1993 has relied mostly on Stein-

way’s Georg Ammann, who in an interview

she called the “so-called ‘travel technician’

from the Hamburg factory.” He has been

with her for many important concerts and all

her recordings. Regarding the action, she

said, “I like the response to be fast and light,

and don’t like it if it’s stodgy and it rubs

against everything.”

As she described her preferences, Ms.

Uchida’s intimate knowledge of piano tech-

nology came through vividly. With many in-

struments, she said, “you get stuck when the

weight is different key to key, the piano has

been sloppily prepared, and the dampers

have not been adjusted — or the spring in the

pedal.” Problems can emerge when “the pin

underneath the key is dirty, or the other pin

in the middle of the mechanism is dirty, or

rubbing, or slurping,” she said.

Whenever possible, Ms. Uchida brings her

own piano, which is unusual among pianists,

even major ones. (Vladimir Horowitz, in his

later years, often played his own piano, or

one reserved specifically for him by Stein-

way; more recently, Krystian Zimerman has

almost always traveled with his instrument,

and understands its mechanics thoroughly.)

At her home in London, Ms. Uchida has

three concert grands, and keeps another

“parked in Germany,” she said, making it

easier to transport it to halls and recording

studios in continental Europe. Obviously, the

logistical challenges of moving a piano long

distances are considerable — not to mention

the expense. Do institutions cover the cost?

While it’s “case by case,” Ms. Uchida said,

usually not.

But she put this expense in context. “I

have no excess otherwise,” she said. “I don’t

need country houses, expensive jewelry, ex-

pensive cars, special collections of what-

ever.”

She does avoid shipping to the United

States, however — except once, some years

ago, when she went on tour with the Ba-

varian Radio Symphony Orchestra of Mu-

nich to South America and New York. “The

South American pianos were not to be rec-

ommended,” she said. So she brought her

own, which she also used for a concert at

Carnegie Hall.

It’s not hard to imagine why pianists

might long for this luxury of always being

able to perform on their own instruments.

Still, Mr. Tao made an affecting argument on

behalf of adaptability.

“I see the reality of being a pianist as a gift,

an opportunity that expands the idea of what

technique in music can be,” he said. The no-

tion that you practice a performance to per-

fection at home and then repeat it in a con-

cert is “taken off the table,” he added. “With

every new instrument, you have to be hum-

bled a bit, and develop a connection to the

logic within your playing.”

Back at my apartment, the technician fi-

nally dropped by, tuned my piano and made

mechanical tweaks to a few of the keys. Af-

terward it piano felt and sounded vastly bet-

ter. I have no idea what was involved.

Who Juggles Pianos? Pianists, of Course

They rarely use their own when

performing; flexibility is crucial.

By ANTHONY TOMMASINI

JENNIFER TAYLOR, VIA CARNEGIE HALL FADI KHEIR, VIA CARNEGIE HALL FADI KHEIR, VIA CARNEGIE HALL

4 AR THE NEW YORK TIMES, SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2020

Classical

Most touring pianists
play on an instrument
provided by the venue.
Pianos that have been on
offer at Carnegie Hall’s
main stage include an
American Steinway (near
left, with Daniil Trifonov)
and a German Steinway
from Hamburg (center,
with Yuja Wang). Mitsuko
Uchida (far right) is the
rare pianist who prefers
to bring in her own
piano, when possible.

MARIE COONS

Instruments that

vary enormously in

terms of action, sound

and responsiveness

to touch.