The recent death of Stephen Kovacevich, of a very great artist, has left a deep sense of loss. At the same time, having attended so many of his concerts over the years and having spoken to him on so many occasions I remain ever aware of a man and pianist of contradictions, of a divided self both personally and artistically. Prior to my visits to his flat I felt both full of anticipation and uncomfortable; by his own admission he had a dark side to his nature and I never knew quite what to expect, which mood swing I would encounter. He could be prickly or warm-hearted , qualities reflected in playing that also took everything to the edge. For him it was all or nothing.
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I first heard him soon after his arrival from America in London where he took up a scholarship to study with Myra Hess. He had previously worked for eleven years with Lev Schorr in California where he was born. And while grateful for what he described as an excellent teacher felt the need for change. Myraa Hess instantly recognised the immense quality of her student and for two intensive years they worked closely together, a relationship that was only ended by Hess's illness. Beethoven's 'Diabelli' Variations was at the heart of their sessions, and to this day I can recall a performance of the 'Diabelli' given in the Royal Festival Hall of an unfaltering depth and precision. I left the hall dazed and never more so than in Variation 14('Grave et Maestoso') where Stephen, as I came to all him, conjured a profound stillness. I remember leaving the hall astonished that normal day- to- day life still continued. It was as if the world had stopped breathing. Again, there was none of the hyper-tension that was to plague him throughout his career and which saddened his teacher, ever-anxious to find a solution. Stephen later referred to Hess as 'a virtuoso in sound' and his only quarrel came when he told her he was about to get married. Shocked by what she saw as an interference rather than an enrichment she was disapproving. Unmarried herself she referred to the piano as her fiancé.
Many years later he lamented the way Hess's reputation became clouded in America where she had previously enjoyed immense success, her status and calibre questioned and, in some instances, found wanting. On the other hand, she was viewed as a comfortable alternative to greater dynamism in England, for Stephen a 'sort of Queen Mother Figure.' More than emphatic he claimed she was not comfortable but a unique and visionary artist.
Then there was the vexed question of Chopin, for Stephen a lifelong problem. He played a great deal of Chopin during his early years in America but later came to see him as providing an elusive dilemma. For him the mix of Chopin's Gallic and Slavic nature made for extreme interpretive difficulties. The sudden unpredictable changes from calm to fury if allowed their full nature and character could easily make you let go of the reigns; lose control. Whether lucid or wild the problem remained. He was particularly concerned regarding the B flat minor Sonata. Despite hours of experiment, he could never find the right sonority for the macabre and mesmeric finale, once tellingly described as like 'winds whistling over grave yards.' He never performed this Sonata in public.
While happy overall with the several articles I wrote about him he was unimpressed by one concerning his EMl records of the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas. There I expressed my awe and admiration while at the same time feeling that hyper-tension too often failed to acknowledge a wider perspective, that serenity and good humour could colour more familiar storms and stresses. Described in an admirable obituary claiming Stephen's Sonatas show 'the perfect imperfect response' I none the less remain less than fully convinced.
On the other hand, he was angered by my review for 'The Times' of a Barbican recital of the last three Beethoven Sonatas. Alive with glitches that led to instability and lapses of memory the essential spirit and truth remained gloriously intact. I received a telephone call asking why did I write that? He felt depressed by what he saw as a failure, asking his manager to cancel all further concerts for the next five months; 'I absolutely refuse to go out and play like that.' For me, a no-win situation! I also recall a performance of Beethoven's 'Emperor' Concerto where the final exultant flourish took a wrong turning and raced into confusion. 'Don't you dare mention that' he threatened playfully, 'and anyway, I played it the other night and it went perfectly, so...'
Yes, Stephen could be genial and relaxed. On one occasion we drank too much wine together and I reminded him of his time on 'Desert Island Discs' when he chose a record of Brigitte Bardot, the ultimate sex kitten, singing, ' just to remind myself in my isolation of what a woman is.'. Again, I was teased unmercifully when having drunk one Margarita too many I failed to hear his voice calling me in a restaurant. The haze cleared and I apologised profusely. 'Are you still drinking Margaritas?' he asked , his face wreathed in amusement.
Critically he saw Rachmaninov as the non- pareil of pianists; 'he was the King, no question about it' citing, in particular, the recordings of Schubert's A flat Impromptu, opus 90 and Chopin's Second Sonata. He had every intention of playing the Third Concerto, saying ' I know you think I don't play those big Romantic bow-wow pieces but I will play this Concerto. Mind you, if I play it the way I want and the way I feel it should be played I shall probably end up in hospital.' Alas, and predictably, this eagerly if uneasily anticipated performance never took place. He was equally stunned by Horowitz, by playing of an ultimate daring and provocation. Of living pianists there was his long-time relationship, both personal and professional. with Martha Argerich and what he described as her genius. He also loved to listen to Yuja Wang who once played a performance of Chopin's Barcarolle in his flat he described as 'perfection.' He was also filled with admiration for Beatrice Rana, citing her recording of Bach's ;Goldberg' Variations as something very special.
In master- classes he was acute and perceptive rather than hyper-critical, though I do recall a weak performance of the Schumann Fantasie given at the Royal Academy of music that clearly provoked him. Elsewhere after listening to a nimble-fingered pianist in Beethoven's 'Waldstein' Sonata he commented, 'you have wonderful fingers. I wish I had fingers like yours, But don't you think it would be nice if you were to think a little about the music?' He later regretted this barbed response;' did I really say that?' Returning to the past he listened to Eileen Joyce's recording of the Paul de Schlozer Etude in A flat and e mailed me with one word; 'phenomenal.'
Of his own many recordings, the only one that left him completely happy was his recital of Beethoven cello and piano Sonatas with Jacqueline du Pre, an early and deeply personal love. Regarding live experiences he told me of an occasion when he played Beethoven's ;Diabelli' Variations to an audience in India largely unversed in classical music . He explained that it is a long and difficult work but that he simply wanted to share such greatness with his audience. He was duly surprised when a little girl approached him and after staring at him wide-eyed, burst into tears.' I thought perhaps she didn't like my performance!'
I have tried to convey something of the intrinsic nature of what lay behind Stephen's stature. If he spoke of returning to America, feeling he had stayed in England too long, I am grateful that he changed his mind. He was above all, in common with Myra Hess, if in a radically different way, a visionary artist wo was not frightened to risk all and fly too close to the sun. et that was his essential quality. It was his special joy and equally his frustration that like the search for the Holy Grail his vision and quest remained both maddeningly and joyfully incomplete.
Bryce Morrison