I am aware of an interest in a critique of Russell Sherman's piano recital
this past December 18 in NYC, in which he played the twelve "Transcendental
Etudes" by Liszt.  The following review of the concert appeared in The New
York Times for December 20, and should be of interest to those following
Mr. Sherman's career.  It was my good fortune to hear one of his concerts
two years ago in Sarasota, Florida.

He played in one of the local churches, seated at a parlor grand loaned
for the occasion by a church member, and down among the main floor pews,
if you can imagine such an absurd arrangement.  Despite the obstacles, his
performance was superb, and his verbal comments on the music as rewarding
as his playing.  Notwithstanding, the local reviewer saw fit to harpoon the
recital as being indicative of why Mr. Sherman was not the premier pianist
he should be, without once mentioning that this was in fact Mr. Sherman's
choice.  Fie on the reviewer, whoever he/she was.

The following is the text of The New York Times review:

   At 70, Russell Sherman continues to tease us with his absence.  He
   is by any measure one of the truly extraordinary pianists before the
   public, although in his case "before the public" is a relative term.
   But there he was on Monday night at Alice Tully Hall playing all 12
   of Liszt's "Transcendental =C9tudes." Then, I suppose it was back to
   the suburbs of Boston, where he lives and teaches.  Who knows when
   we shall hear him again?

   Mr. Sherman's appearance was apparently not by anyone's invitation,
   but rather a self-generated event apart from subscription series or
   institutional promotions.  Yet a large walk-up audience filled most
   of the hall with the kind of electric silence that special events
   always generate.  Playing these huge pieces at a single sitting seems
   an unrealistic job for most performers, but here they unfolded
   naturally:  less an act of physical acrobatics (though such are
   required) than a musical offering for the holiday season.

   There is no avoiding the empty rhetoric that inhabits these pieces,
   especially the earlier ones, but with it comes Liszt's inspired
   generosity.  Indeed, the "Transcendental =C9tudes" describe a kind
   of man- made biology:  wonderful things that grow from unpleasant
   organic matter.  The true marriage of extravagance and inspiration
   was clearer after intermission, in pieces like "Wilde Jagd," the
   dreamlike "Ricordanza" and "Harmonies du Soir," the Allegro Agitato
   Molto with its heart-stopping harmonic transformations and rising
   octave themes, and finally "Chasse-Neige" rumbling chromatically from
   within.

   Pieces that begin as technical exercises (etude meaning study) have
   a way of focusing great minds.  Chopin's extraordinary set of etudes
   turns individual pianistic problems into unifying forces.  Liszt's
   pieces, on the other hand, are collections of difficulties brought
   together by high drama.  One hopes there were young pianists in
   Monday's audience to witness and learn from Mr. Sherman's bodily
   repose in the midst of enormous physical exertion, also his refusal
   to be seduced by the sheer exhilaration of flying scales and arpeggios.
   Few I think would accept the challenge of pedal-free exposure in
   arcanely difficult passages.

   In "Wilde Jagd" the exhilaration was all mind and spirit; in the
   reflective pieces like the "Ricordanza" no moment was left unattended.
   Every note had purpose or, better said, a direction.  More impressive
   than Mr. Sherman's pianistic command was the psychic stamina that
   pursued every note of music before him.  This concentration never
   faltered through the stated program and the four encores I stayed
   for afterward.  Age and the absence of constant public performance
   are the enemies of so many musicians, but not this one.

   Mr. Sherman's enigmatic career poses a question.  He has been on
   the threshold of major careers several times and has always pulled
   back.  His main fame is as a teacher, and when he plays, it is often
   in venues too humble for his abilities.  Has this reclusiveness
   deprived us or him, or has it preserved his special qualities? Both
   may be true.

"William C. Valles" <[log in to unmask]>