[This has been around for years, and is probably apocryphal, but I don't
think it's been distributed here before.  -Dave]

   A Humid Recital Stirs Bangkok

   (This review by Kenneth Langbell appeared in the English Language
   Bangkok Post.  It was made available by Martin Bernheimer of the
   Los Angeles Times.)

   THE RECITAL last evening in the chamber music room of the Erawan
   Hotel by US Pianist Myron Kropp, the first appearance of Mr.  Kropp
   in Bangkok, can only be described by this reviewer and those who
   witnessed Mr.  Kropp's performance as one of the most interesting
   experiences in a very long time.

   A hush fell over the room as Mr.  Kropp appeared from the right of
   the stage, attired in black formal evening-wear with a small white
   poppy in his lapel.  With sparse, sandy hair, a sallow complexion
   and a deceptively frail looking frame, the man who has repopularized
   Johann Sebastian Bach approached the Baldwin Concert Grand, bowed to
   the audience and placed himself upon the stool.

   It might be appropriate to insert at this juncture that many pianists,
   including Mr.  Kropp, prefer a bench, maintaining that on a screw-type
   stool they sometimes find themselves turning sideways during a
   particularly expressive strain.  There was a slight delay, in fact,
   as Mr Kropp left the stage briefly, apparently in search of a bench,
   but returned when informed that there was none.

   As I have mentioned on several other occasions, the Baldwin Concert
   Grand, while basically a fine instrument, needs constant attention,
   particularly in a climate such as Bangkok.  This is even more true
   when the instrument is as old as the one provided in the chamber
   music room of the Erawan Hotel.  In this humidity the felts which
   separate the white keys from the black tend to swell, causing an
   occasional key to stick, which apparently was the case last evening
   with the D in the second octave.

   During the "raging storm" section of the D-Minor Toccata and Fugue,
   Mr.  Kropp must be complimented for putting up with the awkward D.
   However, by the time the "storm" was past and he had gotten into the
   Prelude and Fugue in D Major, in which the second octave D plays a
   major role, Mr.  Kropp's patience was wearing thin.

   Some who attended the performance later questioned whether the
   awkward key justified some of the language which was heard coming
   from the stage during softer passages of the fugue.  However, one
   member of the audience, who had sent his children out of the room by
   the midway point of the fugue, had a valid point when he commented
   over the music and extemporaneous remarks of Mr.  Kropp that the
   workman who had greased the stool might have done better to use some
   of the grease on the second octave D.  Indeed, Mr.  Kropp's stool
   had more than enough grease and during one passage in which the music
   and lyrics were both particularly violent, Mr.  Kropp was turned
   completely around.  Whereas before his remarks had been aimed largely
   at the piano and were therefore somewhat muted, to his surprise and
   that of those in the chamber music room he found himself addressing
   himself directly to the audience.

   BUT SUCH THINGS do happen, and the person who began to laugh
   deserves to be severely reprimanded for this undignified behavior.
   Unfortunately, laughter is contagious, and by the time it had subsided
   and the audience had regained its composure Mr.  Kropp appeared
   somewhat shaken.  Nevertheless, he swiveled himself back into position
   facing the piano and, leaving the D Major Fugue unfinished, commenced
   on the Fantasia and Fugue in G Minor.

   Why the concert grand piano's G key in the third octave chose that
   particular time to begin sticking I hesitate to guess.  However, it
   is certainly safe to say that Mr.  Kropp himself did nothing to help
   matters when he began using his feet to kick the lower portion of
   the piano instead of operating the pedals as is generally done.

   Possibly it was this jarring or the un-Bach-like hammering to which
   the sticking keyboard was being subjected.  Something caused the
   right front leg of the piano to buckle slightly inward, leaving the
   entire instrument listing at approximately a 35-degree angle from
   that which is normal.  A gasp went up from the audience, for if the
   piano had actually fallen several of Mr.  Kropp's toes if not both
   his feet, would surely have been broken.

   It was with a sigh of relief therefore, that the audience saw Mr.
   Kropp slowly rise from his stool and leave the stage.  A few men in
   the back of the room began clapping and when Mr.  Kropp reappeared
   a moment later it seemed he was responding to the ovation.  Apparently,
   however, he had left to get a red- handled fire ax which was hung
   back stage in case of fire, for that was what was in his hand.

   My first reaction at seeing Mr.  Kropp begin to chop at the left leg
   of the grand piano was that he was attempting to make it tilt at the
   same angle as the right leg and thereby correct the list.  However,
   when the weakened legs finally collapsed altogether with a great
   crash and Mr.  Kropp continued to chop, it became obvious to all
   that he had no intention of going on with the concert.

   The ushers, who had heard the snapping of piano wires and splintering
   of sounding board from the dining room, came rushing in and, with
   the help of the hotel manager, two Indian watchmen and a passing
   police corporal, finally succeeded in disarming Mr.  Kropp and
   dragging him off the stage, thus ending one of the most memorable
   musical experiences of the season.

Sami Klein