Female pianists

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Sergei Rachmaninov

Mr Rachmaninov's playing is distinguished by clarity. His dissection of a composition is not, however, pedagogic.... He is far from being a dry analyst, but he delights in exposing the structure of a work in an eloquent manner. In this he has no rival.

I am aware that my playing varies from day to day. A pianist is the slave of acoustics. Only when I have played my very first item, tested the acoustics of the hall, and felt the general atmosphere, do I know what mood I shall find myself at a recital. In a way this is unsatisfactory for me, but, artistically, it is perhaps a better thing never to be certain what one will do than to attain an unvarying level of performance that may easily develop into mere mechanical routine.

When playing, Rachmaninov would sit almost bolt upright with his head slightly bent, free of all superfluous gestures, quite unlike the prevailing fashion of the times. Everything was made to appear effortless - his ability to sight-read even the most complicated pieces and commit them to memory in a matter of hours was naturally an enormous help. Even the most thunderous passages would be executed principally from the wrist and lower arm, hardly engaging the muscles of the back at all, resulting in a uniquely clear, yet pearly sound quality. He would retire as he emerged, with a shyness and humility that perhaps exerted the strangest fascination of all.

Rachmaninov felt that every piece had its own peculiar nerve centre around which the rest gravitated. It could be a certain change of chord, the climax of a melody; it might be loud or quiet, fast or slow. Yet if he failed to make this magic moment register properly, he felt that the rest of the work had become utter nonsense. He insisted that it was his own work on composition that gave him this special insight into the inner workings of the composer's mind. Indeed, each and every one of his own works possesses this focal point, some more obviously than others.

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Joseph Hofmann's tribute to Rachmaninov:

Rachmaninov was made of steel and gold;
steel in his arms, gold in his heart.
I can never think of this majestic being
without tears in my eyes,
for i not only admired him as a supreme artist,
but i also loved him as a man.