Great Performances: Alexei Sultanov, Classical Pianist by Will Stanton

I wish that I could share
with audiences a lifetime of great classical performances on the concert
piano.  But then, as the adage states,
“If wishes were fishes, we would all cast nets.”  Ironically, and perhaps even tragically in
light of my own desires and emotions, I was gifted with sufficient musical
understanding to be a pianist; however, I never have possessed the pianistic
athletic ability.  Succinctly said, my
hands are crap.  Performing the
astonishing physical feats necessary to play classical piano requires a special
genetic gift.  In my trying to explain to
the uninitiated this irony and my frustration regarding my condition, I often
quote the short poem by Robert Frost, “Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on
Thee, And I’ll forgive Thy great big joke on me.”
I realize that envy is an
undesirable trait, yet I admit to a lifetime of envy upon viewing those persons
who do possess the qualities that I wished to possess.  I recall seeing on YouTube the
fifteen-year-old Swiss pianist Kristian Cvetkovic performing the most virtuosic
piano works such as Franz Liszt’s devilishly hard “Mephisto Waltz No.1.”  Those beautiful hands just flowed over the
keyboard with the greatest of ease, strength, and endurance.  Kristian, who speaks several languages and
was a pen-pal early in his career, mentioned in passing, “I don’t seem to have
a problem with technique.”  To me, that
was rather like Microsoft’s Bill Gates stating, “I don’t seem to have a problem
with money.”
It seems, however, that
throughout my life when I have envied some person, something happens to
dramatically remind me that such persons are not immortal gods, that some
unseen fate can befall them; and it may be just as well I was not living in
their shoes.  Such is the case with the
genius pianist Alexei Sultanov.
Alexei, Age 11
 Alexei was born in 1969 to
musician-parents in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. 
Even as a tiny child, it soon became abundantly clear that Alexei was
gifted with deep intellect, great musical talent, and a physical, pianistic
skill that is very rare.  He began his
studies in Tashkent and quickly came to the attention of music pedagogues.  His first performance with orchestra was at
age seven.  I have a recording of his
playing a Haydn concerto when he was ten and a recording at eleven playing the
very difficult Chopin Revolutionary Étude with astonishing speed and great
power.  He soon began studies in Moscow,
which lead to his acceptance in their famous conservatory.  By age thirteen, Alexei’s progress was so
remarkable that he performed in an international piano competition in Prague.
Then by age nineteen, his
teachers felt that Alexei was of high enough technical expertise and musical
understanding to participate in the arduous Van Cliburn International Piano
Competition in Fort Worth, one of thirty pianists chosen from around the
world.  His three extensive recital
performances astounded the audience and, apparently, the judges; for, from the
six finalists, he won the gold medal, the youngest pianist to ever face such a
demanding challenge and win. 
Alexei approached his
playing, both musically and technically, with fresh yet valid
interpretations.  Denise Mullins, who was the Cliburn
Foundation’s artistic administrator in 1989, stated in an interview, “He
took things to the absolute edge of the cliff, and it was very exciting to
hear.  He wasn’t afraid to take a chance
on stage, and there aren’t a lot of pianists who do that.”  His fingers never seemed to lose
accuracy, power, or speed.  The fact that
Alexei’s fingers were so strong and enduring that he snapped a pair of strings
during his performance of the “Mephisto Waltz No.1” does make one wonder where
such physical gifts come from, especially considering the fact that he was only
five feet three.
(See video of another
performance of this work at age 19, St. Petersburg:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZH3XQ_cflg )
For Alexei’s first-place win
at the Van Cliburn competition, he was presented with cash awards, a recital at Carnegie Hall, a recording
contract, and sponsored tours throughout the United States and Europe with free
management valued at over a million dollars.
Alexei then went on to shine in 1995 at the International
Frederick Chopin Piano Competition. 
Then, at the Tchaikovsky competition in Moscow, some judges awarded him
top marks, but other judges apparently deliberately sabotaged his win by
falsely assigning low enough scores to prevent his win.  Naturally, Alexei was bitter about the
political unfairness of the event. 
Viewers can judge for themselves by watching several videos of Alexei on
YouTube.
(See the remarkable video of Chopin Sonata No. 3, 4th movement:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2TvpQP4RSE )
I had a chance to hear
Alexei’s performance in Boulder and to suffer yet another moment of unabashed
envy.  Alexei certainly lived up to his
reputation, pleasing the audience and amazing them with his pianistic
pyrotechnics.  While in Boulder, he
stayed with a wealthy patron of young musicians.  She kept a Steinway in her home’s music room
were Alexei could practice while he was there. 
I once pretended to play her Steinway when visiting her home.
Alexei, Age 16
The all too frequent curse
that accompanies my envy struck yet again. 
Apparently unknown to Alexei and others, he soon after suffered a minor
stroke.  Then in 2001, he felt ill and
dizzy, slipped in the bathroom, struck his head, and exacerbated an already
fragile injury.  Then in February, he
awoke to find that he could not speak. 
He immediately was taken to a doctor, who discovered severe internal
bleeding in his brain.  Alexei slipped
into a coma.  The doctors rushed Alexei into emergency surgery.  As they struggled to save his life, they
witnessed on the brain-scanner a continuing series of five massive strokes that
destroyed most of the brain’s capacity to communicate with the body or to
receive input from the body.  Ironically,
the cognitive portions of the brain remained intact so that, when Alexei
awakened a few days later, he became fully aware of his tragic incapacity.  He no longer could speak nor play the piano.  The musical genius that astonished audiences
with a blaze of superhuman technical feats was extinguished forever, depriving
us of perhaps another half-century of pleasure.
(See the video of the very demanding, beautifully played
Liszt piano sonata in b-minor, 31 min.:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iWBonbvcjAs )
Over the next months, Alexei struggled to gain enough
control of one hand to pick out the melodic lines of the Rachmaninov Third
Piano Concerto, the concerto claimed to be the most difficult written and one
of many with which Alexei once stunned audiences and judges alike.
In November, 2004, Alexei Sultanov was made a U.S.
Citizen.  To celebrate, he peformed with
one hand “America the Beautiful” at the ceremony.  That was his final appearance and his final
performance in public.  He died June 30,
2005 at the age of thirty-five.
  
I still watch my downloaded videos of Alexei.  No matter how many times that I watch and
listen, I am moved by the sheer beauty of his playing and astonished by his
superlative technique.  (Watch the video
of his playing the Tchaikovsky 1st piano concerto, 3rd
movement:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaqQRye3gUI )
Yet, that mind and those hands are gone now; they no
longer exist.  Here I am, lamenting those
clumsy “feet” attached to my arms instead of the dexterous hands I wish I
had.  Yet, at the same time, I’m still
bumbling about at nearly twice Alexei’s age when he died.  I envied his ability to perform, but I don’t
envy his tragic end.
 

Alexei During Piano Competition

© 25 January,
2014    

About the Author  

I have had a life-long fascination with people
and their life stories.  I also realize
that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too
have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have
derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting. 

So Many Roads: A Great Performance by Pat Gourley

It was July 9th 1995 at Soldier Field in Chicago, a Grateful Dead concert. The second of two sold out shows with over 60,000 in attendance each night. It was the end of that summer’s concert run for the Dead and the whole tour had been plagued by troubles – too many kids wanting to see the band, too few tickets, tension between the oldsters and the youngsters and very often too much too fast for way too many. The whole scene was truly turning weird. The draw for these shows though for me was simply too strong and the chance to see family back in the Chicago-land area to good to pass up, so I snapped up tickets the minute the went on sale through Grateful Dead mail order, a service available to the truly faithful. They were reserved floor seats, now mind you the shows were in a football stadium so I guess “good seats” was rather relative.

I had come from Denver without my partner David for the shows but did take Brian my blind bother to the second show. David was not well and stayed back home. I would have been able a few years prior to get him to two shows of a run without much cajoling, getting him to see four in a row though never happened.

These were the darkest days of the AIDS epidemic with protease inhibitors still a year or so away from general availability and use. The deaths did seem to have slowed down mostly because the most affected generation had already been decimated; many of those infected in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s were already gone.

I remember little about the first show on the 8th except that the band was not at their best for sure. Garcia in particular looked bloated, tired and at times almost listless. But you know congestive heart failure, a rather significant heroin addiction and uncontrolled diabetes tends to take the wind out of your sails.

There are several memories though about the shows I recall. One was the hassle of finding parking which for both shows was available only it seemed in public lots south of the stadium in a quite dicey neighborhood. The long walk back to the car the second night in particular was quite a trip in its own, a mugging I am sure was averted thanks in part due to having a blind guy with a cane on my arm. I have always been thankful for Brian coming to that show with me. Also there was a great fireworks display after the second show and the several big screens set up for the folks in the back made the show a bit more accessible.

The music or rather the musicianship both nights was quite forgettable. My LSD days were many years behind me so if the band didn’t come though at any particular show it could be a bust but more often than not the crowd would provide me with endless entertainment. Most of the time though the band would come through for at least one good or even great set, if not both.

That night there was in fact only one song that stuck with me and that was the version of So Many Roads in the second set. It was a relatively new song having only been in the rotation since 1992 and I had heard it only once before that I could recall. It was one of a long line of soulful ballads that were almost always Garcia tunes and played usually middle to late in the second set. The thought that this would be the last time the Grateful Dead would perform with Garcia never of course entered my mind.

Despite people’s impressions, who are unfamiliar with the Dead, they were, Garcia especially, remarkably good at a soulful ballad that at times I suppose might described by some as a dirge. And the Dead were sensitive to play these longer and slower tunes later in the second set when the drugs had perhaps peaked even though they often ended their shows with a rousing couple of numbers. The encores were again often slow tunes to take the edge off before sending the masses into the night in a mellow frame of mind and almost always a single tune. They did a very rare second encore song that night, an old gem called A Box of Rain.

At the risk of loosing my Deadhead card I must say I don’t remember that either. Sorry folks it was the gut wrenching beauty of So Many Roads that has stuck with me for nearly twenty years now. I distinctly remember turning to Brian after that song and saying “well that was worth the fucking price of admission”. I am not sure he agreed. He had quite few beers that night and taking a blind guy to the port-a-potties at a Grateful Dead show is another whole story.

I do remember leaving the show singing to myself the chorus to So Many Roads. We made it back to the car safe and sound with only one stoned Deadhead tripping on my brother’s cane. The crowd was in general very sensitive to him and his needs as I swear only Deadheads could be.

A month later Jerry was dead from a cardiac arrest in the middle of the night at a rehab center in Marin County. That I had been to the last two shows was hard to comprehend. This was of course devastating to me and I will always remember David’s loving call to me at work about Garcia’s death to make sure I was doing OK. The much bigger blow though was to come with David’s death another month later.

So many roads indeed.

April, 2014

About the Author

I was born in La Porte, Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

Great Performances by Ricky

Part 1 – Ballet

I am not a connoisseur of ballet. My experiences with ballet being limited to a television performance of The Nutcracker, a portion of Swan Lake, and a glimpse of what it takes to become a ballet dancer in the movie Billy Elliot. You can understand then when I say I basically have no vast collection of ballet memories upon which to evaluate any ballet, let alone enough knowledge to judge one performance as being “great” compared to all the others. Having explained my lack of background, I will do it anyway.

This past week, I did watch a ballet that I had recorded on my DVR off the Rocky Mountain PBS channel, a ballet performed by the Milwaukie Ballet that is titled Peter Pan. Many of you already know that Peter Pan is my favorite childhood story and should not be surprised that I would want to watch it. I desired to watch this ballet not because I love ballet, but because I didn’t think that with such a varied and complicated story background, anyone could adequately stage and perform a ballet to do justice to the story. I wanted to see how the choreographer and composer along with all the other persons involved in the production could actually create a decent performance of a great story.

Put together a great performance they did. I can’t comment on the quality of the dancing or compare the dancers to other ballet performers, but I can say that I loved their skill and the talent displayed in this performance. The choreography, music, costumes, and set design were appropriate. The technical application of flying was skillfully done and Peter’s dance with his “shadow” was creative, unexpected, and very well done. Another technical achievement was Tinker Bell’s costume of multi-colored lights and the occasional transitions from live dancer to traveling balls of light sometimes on the walls and sometimes in Peter’s hand.

Another unexpected treat was the interesting way the audience was involved in the “Do You Believe in Fairies?” scene. Ballets being void of speaking (at least in my experience), the scene had to be silent and yet the audience was able to participate by waving small fiber-optic flashlights at the appropriate time.

All-in-all, I believe this was a great performance.

Part 2 – Summer Sausage

From about 1989 until 1997, I worked for the South Dakota Division of Emergency Management, the state equivalent of the Federal Emergency Management Agency known by its acronym, FEMA. My position was titled the State Hazard Mitigation Officer. South Dakota had several federally declared natural disasters during the time I was serving there. The disasters were mostly flood, drought, and tornado related. By the time I departed, I managed about $50M in disaster mitigation project funds.

After local government jurisdictions submitted their project applications and the “state” selected which ones to recommend to FEMA for approval, FEMA would send a team of two young grant professionals to visit each proposed site and further evaluate the proposed project in relation to the site to verify that it was not only feasible but also would actually mitigate the problem caused by the disaster.

On one such visit by the FEMA team, I was part of a “great performance.” I will call the two team members Bill and Ted because I am reporting their “excellent adventure.” We all traveled in their FEMA rented car to visit project locations throughout the state. Our first stop was in Yankton. We stopped at the motel in which we would spend the night and began to check-in. I went first, followed by Bill and then Ted. We were all chatting with the clerk and Ted most of all. When the clerk slid Ted’s credit card back to Ted, I was standing by Ted’s side and reached in and slid the card off the counter and gave it to Bill who was standing behind me. (Anyone who knows me well enough will not be surprised by my action.)

Ted never noticed and put his wallet away. While still standing at the desk, I suggested that we go to dinner next, and Bill, while putting Ted’s credit card in his wallet, said, “I’ll even buy dinner.” I choked back a laugh and the clerk started to smile and laugh quietly also. Bill did buy Ted’s dinner, but on Bill’s own card. I bought my own. The next morning we all left for our next destination with Ted still not knowing that Bill had his credit card.

Once again we arrived at a motel and Ted, Bill, and I went in and registered. Ted was first to register and for some reason he could not find his credit card. Bill and I suggested that perhaps he left it at the previous night’s motel and that he should call the motel and check. Ted used his cell phone to do just that but to no avail. I finally suggested that maybe he just overlooked it in his wallet. Ted had checked his wallet several times before I suggested it, but it still wasn’t there when he checked again.

Bill and I were just dripping with empathy, sincerity, and concern for Ted. It was a great performance up to that point. I suggested to Ted that perhaps the card had somehow fallen out of his wallet and was somewhere around the driver’s seat in the car. Ted, being desperate at this point, went out to check and left his wallet on the desk as he did so. Bill immediately put Ted’s credit card back in the wallet, at which point the desk clerk cracked up laughing. We even had time to explain how we had gotten it away from Ted the night before.

Ted returned from the car totally crestfallen and defeated. Bill suggested that he check his wallet one more time very carefully. Ted resisted but then looked and found his credit card almost immediately. Of course the clerk, Bill, and I were appropriately happy for him, again dripping with sincerity. Ted never did catch on. I was the last to register so the other two had gone ahead to move the car and to locate their rooms. The clerk gave me 10 extra coupons for a free small French fry at a hamburger chain because we had given her such wonderful entertainment. Yes, this was a great performance, but nothing like the one the next day.

We were on the way to a very small town in NE South Dakota when I decided that another great performance was needed. So, I told Bill and Ted that we were going to a small town in a part of South Dakota where people were not fond of federal officials and that a couple of them had “disappeared” in the past two years while in that region and suggested that they be very polite and agreeable. I told them that we were going to meet with the mayor of the town to visit and discuss the project. I also told them that we would meet the mayor at his butcher shop.

Upon arrival, the mayor was in the “workroom” in back of the shop so we waited in the lobby-display or sales area. Ted noticed a display of Summer Sausages and we all began to discuss how much we like summer sausage. I made a small comment that maybe the missing federal officials had been turned into summer sausage. Bill and Ted suddenly got very quiet and thoughtful.

The mayor finished his business in the workroom and we all went outside and walked around the town for a while viewing the proposed projects various locations. The mayor explained his vision on how the project would mitigate some flooding in his town. The tour ended up in front of his butcher shop where it began. About that time, a butcher’s assistant came out the front door and told the mayor that they were ready for him. The mayor asked us to wait as he had to go butcher a hog and he went inside. After a minute, Bill said he had never seen a hog butchered and wanted to watch. Putting words to action, he began to walk along the side of the building towards the rear of it. I called to him and said, “Stop. Haven’t you ever seen the movies where someone is told to wait but doesn’t and sees something he shouldn’t have seen and gets killed over it?” Bill stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at me. Before he could say anything in rebuttal, there was a gunshot from behind the building and Bill came back to where I was faster than when he left.

We then went in the shop’s front door and waited for the mayor to return, which he did momentarily. We all made a bit of small talk and prepared to leave for our next destination. The mayor said wait a minute I have something for you and went back into the workroom. I said, “Oh oh” and obviously but slowly moved away from Bill and Ted in the general direction of the front door. I could tell by their faces that they were not calm but not sure what to do. The mayor came back about then and handed each of us a tube of Summer Sausage. We thanked him and left.

Once in the car, I made a comment that since this appeared to be fresh sausage, we didn’t need to worry about eating those missing federal officials. I never did tell Bill and Ted that I made up the whole background story. It was a great performance even if I do say so myself.

© 20 April 2014

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic. 

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com