Meeting Anton Kuerti

When I was studying under my piano teacher, who taught at the Longy School of Music, I was exposed to the pianist, Anton Kuerti, at a very young age. At the time, I had no idea who he was, and didn’t realize it until many years later. My teacher would play me the LPs of the pieces I was practicing after I had finished learning a piece. I aspired to play like him – trying to match his speed and accuracy. She told me I was to play at the speed I was comfortable with, though I wanted to sound like him. I often pleaded to listen to more of his recordings – and at times she would let me listen.

About 4 years after listening to that first recording of Moonlight Sonata No.14 in C-sharp minor – Presto, I had an unexpected encounter. At the time, I was probably 11, and I was practicing for my teacher downstairs. I was pretty confident I nailed it, though I still got nervous playing in front of her; she was fairly critical with what I had played, especially when I attempt to play extremely fast. I’ve been known to do this even school (a story for another post).

After I was done with my lesson, I walked upstairs, rocking out in my black t-shirt with a very colourful fireworks design, and slid on my headphones as I listened to my cassette; I was waiting for my ride to come. Almost immediately, a man strolled into the sitting area and tried to get my attention. It was my piano teacher’s guest that was staying with her.

He looked down at me and said, “You played very well.” I looked up and thought, “Who is this guy?”, though I replied with a “Thanks,” and returned back to listening to my cassette. I appreciated his feedback, and figured he was probably listening to me practice and heard my teacher’s comments. However, I was quick to return to my cassette – the pianist I was aspiring to become. Little did I know, I was listening to HIS recording that my teacher had given me some time ago.

I found out by the next lesson who I had actually met, and she invited me to his concert; he was going to perform in Boston. I was ecstatic and bummed I had no idea who I had met at the time, and admittedly, a little embarrassed. I was able to bring my family with me and we got all dressed up for the event; it was my first concert.

I remembered sitting on the edge of my seat as I waited for him to appear on the stage. He walked in with an atypical outfit – and if I remember correctly, he wore orange socks. After he sat down and played barely 10 seconds, he stood up and demanded another piano, walked out, and didn’t return until the new one arrived. We sat there watching them move the current piano out, and rolled in the new one. I was wondering if he would approve the new one, and thought to myself, “I wish I could do that in my recitals so I don’t have to play!” The thoughts of a tween.

He played several classical pieces and ended his performance with an improvised composition based on one of his favourite songs, “Piano Man” by Billy Joel, which I thought was so ingenious. I remember he shared a short story about how he performed once and made a mistake – totally forgot a section – but he continued to play and improvise until he could end the piece. No one in the audience knew it was not intentional. I remember he also talked about how he would change the speed at which he played, as compared to when he was younger. It was shocking to me because I wanted to play faster, not slower. I soon learned later that each pianist will play each piece to make it their own, and speed is only one factor.

I now reflect back on how he abruptly stood up after being dissatisfied with the piano he was given. I didn’t understand what was wrong with the piano at the time. It was not until I picked a piano of my own, I finally understood that the piano you choose matches your personality. Playing on any other piano that is not yours will never feel or sound the same.