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Guest post by Michael Johnson

Morton Feldman’s delicate, will o’ the wisp compositions demand a spiritual investment, a belief in music’s potential to enter the human consciousness almost unnoticed. The simplicity can be deceptive. One is tempted to say, as a young English mother whispered to me recently at a Feldman recital, “My ten-year-old could play this.”

Marc-André Hamelin and a large fan club disagree. Hamelin once told me that the first time be heard Feldman’s For Bunita Marcus he felt he was transported to an entirely new dimension. He was stunned, and went on to perform, and finally to record (Hyperion  B06Y3L26GC)  the entire one hour and twelve minutes of Bunita Marcus. Now I was stunned and transported.

Here is the Feldman sheet music played by Hamelin.

Ivan Ilic, the Serbian-American pianist based in France, is also leading a renaissance of the Feldman oeuvre – dormant for decades. He says he might be tempted to retort to the mystified mother, “Madame, either you get it or you don’t.”

Ilic and Hamelin and I got it, profoundly, as a result of an effort to get into Feldman’s head and play him the way his work was intended. Ilic says he is determined to show the way to the rapture  he felt, which he describes as wanting “the spell to continue … interruption seems unthinkable”.

His Bunita Marcus CD, ‘Ivan Ilic Plays Morton Feldman’ (Paraty/Harmonia Mundi), delivers a rarefied performance that gets to the very essence of music. “Nothing distracts from the backbone of single notes or quiet chords,” he wrote.  In one of the tracks, Feldman creates a tremendous feeling of space, with a hollow chord in the left hand and only two notes in the right hand. “Few composers can do so much with so little,” says Ilic.

To quote poet Robert Frost, the minimalist playing enters your mind on “little cat feet”. Feldman and his mentor John Cage believed in the wisdom of India that says quietude in music can trigger divine intervention in the mind.

Feldman also saw a morbid side. He has written,“In my art I feel myself dying very, very SLOWLY.’ The last third of For Bunita Marcus’ is a wonderful illustration of that idea.

Ilic has attempted to describe in his liner notes the Feldman ceffect. “Ever patient, using the same notes, (Feldeman ) wears me down. Then slowly I start to forget my feelings. I hear the music again, but now it has a glow to it. My ears and mind have adjusted, and  my ego fades into the background.”

Who was this enigmatic Bunita Marcus? They met at the University of Buffalo, in New York State, in 1975. She was a doctoral student in composition and her professor Feldman was clearly star-struck. No photos survive.  “I am very enthusiastic about this girl,” he once said. “I think she is something to be enthusiastic about. I am never going to have another student like her as long as I live. Never.” Although he  called her compositions “gorgeous and elegant” they left no trace in the repertoire. Nevertheless, his hour-long tribute guaranteed a certain notoriety.

Ilic admits that his first brush with Feldman left him feeling “edgy”. He says he felt that “the music isn’t going anywhere”.  He warns that others might feel the same initial barrier. But his experience consisted of “puzzlement-tension-release-trance”. 

He discovered that his sense of time could disappear. “The piece can last one hours, or four hours; I know I’ll follow it to the end.”

Feldman the writer published his music philosophy in a collection of his works, Give My Regards to Eighth Street. He offers this thought – that the “chronological aspect of music’s development is perhaps over, and that a new mainstream of diversity, invention and imagination is indeed awakening. For this we must thank John Cage.”

In the years following his voluminous oeuvre, he has proven to be at least partially right.

MICHAEL JOHNSON is a music critic and writer with a particular interest in piano. He has worked as a reporter and editor in New York, Moscow, Paris and London over his journalism career. He covered European technology for Business Week for five years, and served nine years as chief editor of International Management magazine and was chief editor of the French technology weekly 01 Informatique. He also spent four years as Moscow correspondent of The Associated Press. He is a regular contributor to International Piano magazine, and is the author of five books. Michael Johnson is based in Bordeaux, France. Besides English and French he is also fluent in Russian. He is a regular reviewer for this site’s sister site ArtMuseLondon.com.

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Do Not Mistake Activity for Progress: A Lesson for Musicians

The phrase “Do not mistake activity for progress” serves as a powerful reminder that being busy is not the same as being effective. Nowhere is this more relevant than in the life of a musician, where countless hours are spent practicing, refining technique, and mastering pieces. A romantic misconception persists, amongst musicians themselves as well as the general public, that musicians must spend hours and hours in the practice room to achieve perfection.

This article explores how the distinction between mere activity and genuine progress is particularly important for musicians, and how understanding this difference by employing focussed, thoughtful practice – quality rather than quantity – can lead to more productive and meaningful practice and results.

For many musicians, the act of practicing can become habitual. Sitting down you’re your instrument, playing through scales, or repeating pieces from memory may feel productive because it takes time and effort. But if these routines are executed without thoughtful engagement, they may offer little return in terms of technical and artistic development. In other words, you can be very active without actually improving. This is where the warning not to conflate activity with progress becomes critical. Just because a musician is practicing does not mean they are practicing well.

Effective practice requires focus, intention, and feedback. It’s not just about the quantity of time spent, but the quality of that time. For example, a violinist who practices a difficult passage for thirty minutes without addressing the underlying technical issues – such as bowing technique, intonation, or rhythm – is likely to repeat and reinforce mistakes. This is, in effect, simply “going through the motions” rather than engaging in deep, thoughtful, considered practicing. In contrast, a musician who spends just ten minutes isolating and correcting these problems may make far more progress. Thus, mindful, goal-oriented practice can achieve more in less time than mindless repetition.

The concept of deliberate practice, popularised by psychologist Anders Ericsson, is particularly useful in this context. Deliberate practice involves working just beyond one’s current abilities, identifying weaknesses, setting specific goals, and seeking constructive feedback. For musicians, this might mean slowing down a difficult section, using a metronome, recording oneself for critique, or working with a teacher, mentor or even a trusted colleague or friend to identify areas for improvement. Each of these activities is targeted and purposeful, aimed at achieving real growth rather than simply filling practice hours.

In addition, mistaking activity for progress can lead to frustration, burnout and even injury. (‘over-practicing’ is a real issue!). Musicians may feel that despite spending many hours practicing, they are not advancing, which can be discouraging and demotivating. Understanding that not all practice is equal allows you to assess the effectiveness of your practice routines and make the necessary adjustments. It encourages reflection, a crucial aspect of productive practicing: What am I trying to achieve? Is this exercise helping me reach that goal? What could I change to improve my results?

By focusing on the quality rather than the quantity of practice, musicians can ensure that their activity translates into meaningful progress. Ultimately, it is not how much one practices, but how one practices, that leads to mastery.

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The Collection (2015-25) by Fly On The Wall is a landmark 10-year documentary project by musician and filmmaker Stewart French.  This unique online exhibition offers an unfiltered glimpse behind the scenes with some of the world’s finest classical musicians – including Angela Hewitt and Marc-André Hamelin – captured raw and uncut. 

The Collection presents 56 curated films drawn from more than 300 behind-the-scenes shoots, including never-before-seen footage from the project’s extensive archives.  The final project presents a compelling collection of video portraits, documenting musicians doing what they do best – performing live – up close and under a microscope.

From early music ensembles to cabaret trios, classical guitar quartets to percussion collectives, the exhibition showcases over 40 artists across a broad stylistic spectrum. It’s a vivid portrait of classical music in the UK and Europe today, authentic, contemporary, and alive. Featured names include The King’s Singers, Steven Isserlis, Alina Ibragimova, Richard Goode, The Choir of Clare College Cambridge, La Nuova Musica, Colin Currie, and Boris Giltburg.

Filmed in a signature single-camera, handheld style, French’s approach brings viewers inside rarely seen spaces — iconic concert halls after dark, locked recording studios, and private rehearsal rooms.  Locations such as Wigmore Hall, Royal Festival Hall, Henry Wood Hall, and Ehrbar Saal emerge as characters in their own right, where inspiration, discipline, vulnerability and genius converge.

Accompanying each film is a written narrative offering behind-the-scenes insight and context, untold stories from deep within the creative process.

Blending cinematic long-take storytelling (think Sam Mendes’ 1917) with the intimacy of portrait photography, Stewart French’s films reject flashy edits in favour of immersive, emotionally charged moments. With over 20 years’ experience as a classical musician, producer, filmmaker and writer, his goal is to create a deeper connection between digital audiences and the visceral experience of live music.

French explains: “As a performer myself, I’ve always been drawn to the raw, unfiltered magic that happens behind closed doors — moments of focus, anticipation, creative flow.  With The Collection, I wanted to capture those flashes of vitality that sit at the very heart of music-making.”

Originally launched as a Classic FM series in 2016, Fly On The Wall has grown into one of the UK’s leading classical film producers.  Its work has been featured by BBC Newsnight, The Times, Gramophone, and BBC Music Magazine, with recordings featured in Apple Music’s front-page editorial.

Access the online exhibition at: https://theflyonthewallcollection.org

(Source: press release)

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“Schubert’s music is the most human that I know.” – Sir András Schiff, pianist

“I will never quite have the words to express what Schubert’s music has meant to me…and I will never stop looking for them. His ability to convey loneliness — and console in its wake — is perhaps his most ineffable quality…” – Jonathan Biss, pianist

Image credit Hadi Karimi

Schubert’s music provides the bridge between the classical and romantic eras. Yet his music was not well known during his lifetime outside of Schubert’s own intimate circle of friends. His piano music was largely neglected right up to the early part of the 20th century when it was given the attention it deserved by pianists such as Artur Schnabel, who can be partly credited for introducing it into the regular concert repertoire with pieces such as the late piano sonatas, the two sets of Impromptus, the Moments Musicaux, and the “Wanderer fantasie”. Today, these works are staples of the pianist’s repertoire, much loved by performers and audiences alike.

Schubert’s musical sensibilities and invention were inspired by the human voice – he wrote over 600 songs – and lyrical melody and long-spung cantabile lines are distinctive elements of all his music.

For the pianist, his music remains an interpretational challenge and the best Schubert players have absorbed the essentials from his songs and chamber music. Because of his proximity, and admiration for Beethoven, there is a tendency among some players to approach his music like Beethoven’s; but Schubert is a composer who speaks more quietly and introspectively, even in his more declamatory moments. The skill in playing his music well is a sensitivity to these aspects without sentimentality.

British pianist Clifford Curzon (1907-1982) had a special affinity for Schubert, fostered by his studies with Artur Schnabel. His performance of Schubert’s last sonata, the D960 in B-flat, is considered by many to be one of the greatest performances ever. In this recording, his concentration and nervous intensity are so palpable it is almost like eavesdropping.

Clifford Curzon Plays Schubert’s Piano Sonata in B-flat major, D.960

A protégé of the great Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter, himself a fine Schubert player, Russian pianist Elisabeth Leonskaja is noted for her performances and recordings of Schubert’s piano music. As an artist, she is unfailingly intelligent, tasteful and musical, whose performances display great refinement, romantic fervour, delicacy, and power, all underpinned by commanding technique.

Franz Schubert: Fantasy in C Major, Op. 15, D. 760, “Wandererfantasie” – Allegro con fuoco ma non troppo (Elisabeth Leonskaja, piano)

No appraisal of Schubert pianists would be complete with András Schiff, who really honours every work, and who has recorded the piano music on Schubert-era instruments, offering listeners an intriguing insight into the range of colours and nuances afforded by Schubert’s writing. Always fastidious in his close attention to the details of the score, Schiff really gets to the heart, soul, and fundamental humanity of Schubert in his playing and brings a compelling intimacy to his performances, even in the largest of concert halls.

The great Romanian pianist Radu Lupu, who died in April 2022, was described by Gramophone magazine as “A lyricist in a thousand”, who placed Schubert’s music at the centre of his repertoire throughout his career. Sensitive to Schubert’s mercurial moods, his playing demonstrates immense control, subtlety of shading and dynamic nuance, an almost ethereal luminosity of sound, and a myriad range of colours which fully reveals Schubert’s inventiveness and imagination, the rich seam of his ideas, and his forward vision.

Like András Schiff, Mitsuko Uchida has an unerring ability to bring an intimacy and sense of a conversation to her performances of Schubert’s music, and she does so with clarity, commitment, and a clear sense of the narrative line, the lightness and lyricism, and also the roughness in his music. Uchida is very alert to Schubert’s idiosyncrasies, his chiaruscuro and elusive, shifting moods: beauty and delicacy, poignancy and loneliness abound in her performances of this composer whose music has been a lifelong presence for her.

Other fine Schubert players to explore include Shura Cherkassy, Rudolf Firkusny, Walter Gieseking, Rudolf Serkin, Wilhelm Kempf, Paul Lewis, Maria João Pires, Alexander Lonquich, Imogen Cooper, Krystian Zimerman, Murray Perahia, and of course Alfred Brendel. Of the younger generation, recent discoveries include Inon Barnatan, Yehuda Inbar, Pavel Kolesnikov and Samson Tsoy

An earlier version of this article appeared on the InterludeHK website

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