The Physical and Interpretive

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The Physical and Interpretive

Technique of Emanuel Feuermann

Brinton Smith

Chapter 1

Introduction

Emanuel Feuermann (1902-1942) was almost universally recognized during his brief lifetime as a peerless master of the instrument. Artur Rubinstein said "Feuermann

became for me the greatest cellist of all time"[1], Jascha Heifetz accepted him as thefirst cellist worthy of serious collaboration, and would not play with another for nineyears after his death. He was the cellist of choice for conductors including Toscanini,who described him as "the greatest" and said that "there is no one after him"[2] and

Szell, who said that he played with "...noblesse and distinction, and with the completeequipment in the service of an artistic purpose."[3] His premature death during routinesurgery in 1942 at the age of 39 brought his career to an end before he had a chance toestablish the type of widespread fame that Heifetz and Casals secured, but even today-more than half a century after his death- there is a clear consensus, among cellists whowere privileged to hear Emanuel Feuermann play and among those familiar with hisrecordings, that Feuermann was a cellist without equal. His graceful, elegant playingshows both a warm, Kreislerian musicality and a fluid and facile command of theinstrument that most cellists agree has never been approached since.

Despite his revolutionary style of playing, Feuermann had a surprisingly limited impacton the generations of cellists that followed. Before coming to America in 1937,Feuermann’s active performing career prevented him from teaching widely. After relocating to America, where he was less well known and concerts were more scarce, he

became more active as a teacher, eventually becoming associated with the CurtisInstitute. Although he taught many students for short periods of time, his notoriouslydifficult and demanding lessons and his premature death prevented him fromdeveloping a group of students well versed in his craft, as Casals and Piatigorsky did,that could relay his musical and technical ideas to future generations. While there aremany cellists today who have studied with Feuermann, at least briefly, there are fewwho count him as the main source of their cellistic knowledge and perhaps none who

represent his technical and stylistic abilities in performance.

Is it possible that Feuermann’s abilities on the instrument were unique to him - a ‘godgiven talent’ that could not be imitated merely by studying at the feet of the master?Surely there is some aspect of this in Feuermann’s playing. No one would expect to beable to replicate his abilities merely by understanding the underlying principles. ButFeuermann himself believed that cello playing of his day was victimized by poorlythought out technical habits and illogical approaches to achieving musical effects. He

planned to lay out his technical philosophy in a book begun shortly before his death.Unfortunately, only a few pages were completed (Reprinted in appendix I). If Feuermann, who was keenly aware of his talent and also of what could be taught and

absorbed by his students, believed that his technical ideas were indeed revolutionaryand duplicable, there seems no reason to doubt him. It is curious that so many modern



cellists pay lip service to Feuermann as the greatest cellist of all time and yet make littleattempt to understand the fundamentals underlying his playing.

The neglect of Feuermann's legacy may be due in part to the lack of availableinformation. Feuermann’s relative obscurity among non-cellists, stemming from his

early death, has led to an unfortunate lack of published material regarding his life andteachings. To date, only one biography has been written, by Seymour Itzkoff ( Emanuel

Feuermann, Virtuoso 2nd ed. Schweinfurt, Germany: Reimund-Maier-Verlag, 1995),which is somewhat inadequate, and a second, by Annette Morreau, is currently in

progress. The only other major published source of information about Feuermann is amemorial issue of The Strad (April 1988, Vol. #99) containing articles, interviews, adiscography and related items. The discussion of technique in all these sources (asidefrom Feuermann’s own few pages) is at best anecdotal and is largely ignored. Thequestion which motivated the creation of this document was, in the absence of Feuermann's planned treatise on technique, how to gain insight into his methods?

Several different approaches were pursued.

The second chapter contains a detailed analysis of Feuermann's two commerciallyavailable recordings of the Dvorak concerto. They are contrasted with Dvorak recordings of Casals, Piatigorsky, Rostropovich and Yo-Yo Ma, not an attempt to makeany judgment as to which are 'better' or 'worse', but in order to better understand thespecific differences that define Feuermann's playing. The choice of these four cellistsfor comparison might be debatable, but it was not possible to include every importantcellist of the century, and these four represent a very broad spectrum of musical andtechnical approaches and are the best known and, arguably, the most influential cellistsof this century.

The third chapter examines one of Feuermann's three published performing editions indetail-the Schumann concerto and -again for the sake of illuminating what was uniqueto Feuermann- contrasts it to three other well known performing editions of the sameconcerto made by Joachim Stutschewsky, Leonard Rose and Heinrich Schiff. Thedetails of Feuermann's choices of fingerings and bowings are observed and contrastedwith those of the other three performers.

The fourth chapter is an analysis of the physical aspects of Feuermann's technique asobserved in the one known existing film of him performing. Again, to establish clearly

what is different or unusual with his technique, observations are compared to thosetaken from filmed or videotaped performances of Casals, Piatigorsky, Rostropovich andMa. General physical attributes such as body position, and cello height and placementare discussed in addition to detailed analysis of the mechanisms of the bow hand andarm and those of the left hand, fingers and arm.

Interviews with five surviving Feuermann students and his sister Sophie, who served ashis accompanist for many years, make up the final section of the document. Theinterviews focus on technical and musical issues, but some seemingly extraneous detailis also included, as the insight it provides into Feuermann's character and life seemsimportant and meaningful, even if not directly related to the topic.



The first appendix is Feuermann's own writing on cello playing and teaching, which isvitally important to the focus of this paper and should almost be read prior to the bodyof the work. Its placement as an appendix only represents the fact that it is not originalto this document. The essay is reprinted from Seymour Itkoff's biography. The secondappendix contains the cello parts to Feuermann's three performing editions: The

Boccherini A Major Sonata, the Schumann Concerto and the Mozart concerto,originally K.314, transcribed for Feuermann by George Szell. These cello parts arereprinted with the gracious permission of G. Schirmer and Carl Fischer, Inc.

The goal of this research was to discover as many details of Feuermann's musical and physical techniques as possible and provide for all interested cellists a better understanding of how it was that he played. I grew up listening to Feuermann'srecordings-there are recordings in which I have memorized every minute detail,recordings which I have heard literally hundreds of times. And yet as familiar as I waswith Feuermann's playing as a listener, I discovered throughout the course of myanalysis how little of Feuermann's style and methods I had been able to understand or

absorb merely by appreciating his recordings. The understanding I gained developingthis document has changed my understanding of Feuermann's playing and the way I

play the cello forever, and it is my sincere hope that it can do the same for other interested cellists. Not that we should attempt merely to imitate Feuermann, but that wemay understand the underlying principles of his technique and musicianship, in order todevelop the art of cello playing to the potential that Feuermann showed it could have.

For those unfamiliar with Feuermann's life, we begin with a brief biography:

Emanuel Feuermann was born on November 22, 1902 in the town of Kolomea, in whatis now the Ukraine, but at the time was part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Born intoa musical family, his father, Maier Feuermann performed and taught locally on both theviolin and cello. Emanuel, or 'Munio' as he was called [4], was the third of fiveFeuermann children. His older brother, Sigmund achieved much notoriety as a violin

prodigy, overshadowing Munio in the early part of his life. In order to further Sigmund's progress and career, the family moved to Vienna in 1908, where Sigmund eventuallystudied with Sevcik, and Maier played in the Tonkünstler Orchestra. Munio's earliestcello studies were sporadic, with his father as teacher. He did not begin to studyregularly until he was seven years old. He later began studying privately with AntonWalter and made quick progress. He performed his first recital in late 1913 in

Leopoldstadt, made his first orchestra appearance shortly afterwards with theTonkünstler Orchestra, playing the Haydn D Major Concerto. Although sources areunclear, there are some accounts that he made his official debut with the ViennaPhilharmonic in February 1914, with Felix Weingartner conducting, again playing theHaydn concerto. The Philharmonic concert was reputed to have been a critical successand the young Feuermann toured with Sigmund during the next three years, performingthe Brahms Double Concerto.

In 1917, at the age of 15, Munio was sent to Leipzig to study with Julius Klengel, wherehe remained for the next two years. When Friedrich Grützmacher died suddenly,leaving the cello professorship at the Gürzenich Conservatory in Cologne vacant,

Klengel was asked to suggest a possible successor, and he nominated the youngFeuermann, who began his professorship there in the fall of 1919, still only sixteen



years old. In addition to his teaching duties, he served as cellist for the Gürzenichquartet and first cellist of the Gürzenich orchestra. During the following years,Feuermann began to perform throughout Europe with increasing frequency, and madehis first commercial recordings (the second and third movements of the Haydn D Major Concerto) in December, 1921. In 1923, Feuermann resigned his post in Cologne in

order to devote his full attention to his active concert career. During this period hecollaborated with Bruno Walter and George Szell, as pianists, and Artur Schnabel andCarl Flesch, among others. In the Fall of 1929, Feuermann was appointed to the cello

professorship at the Berlin Hochschule für Musik, the premier teaching position inGermany, and he maintained this post while continuing an active concert and recordingcareer. He also formed a string trio with Paul Hindemith and Joseph Wolfsthal, whowas replaced after his tragic death by Szymon Goldberg. Hitler's rise to power led toFeuermann being relieved of his post at the Hochschule in 1933.

Fleeing Nazi persecution, Feuermann stayed briefly in Paris and then in London. Hemoved to Zürich in 1937 and finally to America, where he arrived in October of 1938.

During these years, Feuermann continued to record and perform and made severalworld tours, increasing his reputation. He made his American debut with the New York Philharmonic on January 2nd, 1935 and followed this with a Town Hall recital twelvedays later, achieving a great critical success. His collaborations by now included almostall of the major orchestras, and he finally achieved much sought after success inEngland with his performance of Strauss Don Quixote with the BBC Symphony andToscanini, who had insisted on Feuermann as soloist, in May of 1938.

Feuermann continued to perform after moving to America, but most of Europe wassoon unavailable for concertizing because of the war. He collaborated in chamber music

performances and recordings with Heifetz, Primrose and Rubinstein. Feuermann livedin New York, settling eventually in Rye, and taught both privately and at the CurtisInstitute. On May 25th, 1942, at the age of thirty nine, he died following routinesurgery, probably from complications resulting from an allergic reaction to morphine.

Many feel that towards the end of his life, Feuermann's playing had reached a levelhigher than even he had previously attained. We can only wonder what might havefollowed, had his life not been cut so tragically short. Feuermann left behind a legacy of over 70 recorded works that provide compelling evidence that his level of musical andtechnical mastery is unequaled, before or since.

_______________________

1 “As they Knew Him,” The Strad , 99 (April 1988): 314 2 Seymour Itzkoff, Emanuel Feuermann, Virtuoso, 2nd ed., p. 213 (Schweinfurt Germany: Reimund-Maier-Verlag, 1995) 3 3 “As they Knew Him,” The Strad , 99 (April 1988): 314 4 For a discussion of the origin of the names “Munio” and “Emanuel” see the Sophie Feuermann interview on p. 143.

Chapter 2

A Comparison and Analysis of Feuermann'sDvorak Concerto Recordings with those of

Casals, Piatigorsky, Rostropovich and Yo-Yo Ma



INTRODUCTION

The most direct and obvious evidence of Feuermann's playing comes from therecordings which he left. No other evidence could relay as clearly his style and abilitiesas a cellist. The goal of this analysis is a comparison of all aspects of Feuermann's

playing -including tempos, use of glissandi, vibrato, 'timing' for musical effect, the useof accents and other forms of emphasis, and specific phrasing at fixed points- to thoseof the other four most famous and influential cellists of this century, Casals,Piatigorsky, Rostropovich and Yo-Yo Ma. The intention is to record only what isclearly observable, i.e. that X produces a slower vibrato than Y, or that Z makes a largeritard in a certain measure, and in this way come to a better understanding of what madeFeuermann unique, without raising the argument of what is 'good' or 'beautiful' versuswhat is not. Reviews of recordings tend to focus on what the reviewer finds either compelling or distasteful. Although not conceding the view that all of what isaesthetically beautiful in music is 'relative' to the tastes of the listener, this is not aforum for that argument.

All of us, when we listen to music performed, form an opinion as to whether it is beautifully rendered or not. Professionally trained musicians form their opinions with a background of many years of interpretation, performance and analysis, allowing themmore insight into the mechanisms of performance and interpretation with which to maketheir judgment. Still, it is shocking to realize how few of the thousands of minute detailsthat together comprise an interpretation are never consciously comprehended.

To take the example of a cellist. There are only a few factors which a cellist may controlin producing any given note: from the right hand -bow speed, bow pressure, the

placement of the bow between the bridge and fingerboard, and the angle of the bow,which controls how much hair comes in contact with the string- and, from the left hand,vibrato - both width and speed. Furthermore, between notes, by controlling thecoordination of the two hands, he can control the timing between the notes and he cancontrol whether any glissando and what type is made between notes (In addition, if thecoordination is not precise and the left hand does not stop the string completely, noisecan also be produced, but this is not intentional.) This is the sum total of all the physicalvariables that we can control and from which we must create everything that happensmusically on the cello.

In musical terms this means that on one note we can control the length, various types of

accent or emphasis ( >, — ), diminuendo or crescendo during the course of the note,vibrato, general dynamic and the type of sound. Between notes we also control thelength of time until the next note sounds -allowing us to establish a feeling of tempo,accelerando and ritard over the course of a several notes- the dynamic relative to the

previous note -allowing us to establish a sense of crescendo or decrescendo- andglissandi. Over the course of a phrase, these simple variables combine together, on and

between each note, to create all the nuances we describe as 'phrasing' . The complexityand density of these nuances is greater even than that found in speech. Herein lies afactor in music's powerful communicative ability perhaps, but also a situation that isvery difficult to break down in analysis without becoming hopelessly lost in minor details.



The intention of this chapter is to provide a comparison of the playing of these fivecellists, not in the sense of what is good and what is 'bad' or who is 'better', but only of what is clearly recognizably different in their approach, specifically, in their recordingsof the Dvorak concerto. While this restriction might seem to create an artificiallylimited comparison, the patterns noted here can be seen throughout the recorded works

of these artists. The Dvorak merely provides a convenient point of reference. Somegeneralizations can be made from the recordings as a whole, but for other factors it isnecessary to compare very specific points, in order to be able to truly understand thedetails of each performance. It is striking how many of these details the listener, even atrained musician, is unaware of during casual listening. One gets a general impressionfrom the sum total of these effects, but unless truly trained to be aware of them, one isnever really clear as to how that general impression is formed. It is similar to listeningto spoken dialogue, where we are aware of the meaning the speaker conveys byinflecting a sentence without being aware of the mechanisms of the many subtlearticulatory gestures that combine to convey that meaning.

To those who find this an overly technical treatment of what is essentially aninspirational art, consider that Form was developed to describe what was the result of inspiration to the composers, and so we also must find a way to understand and discussmusical performance if we truly wish to understand and improve our art . We should not

be satisfied to say 'This is beautiful ' or 'This is not' without making an effort tounderstand what specifically we are reacting to.

For this comparison, six recordings were used; two versions of Feuermann, onerecorded commercially and one taken from a live performance, and one each of Casals,Piatigorsky, Rostropovich and Yo-Yo Ma. These performers were selected because theyare the best known cellists of this century and have had the most widespread influenceas performers. The details of these recordings are as follows:

Cellist Conductor Orchestra Year Age

Feuermann Michael Taube Berlin State Opera House 1928-29 [1] 25-26

Casals George Szell Czech Philharmonic 1937 60

Feuermann Leon Barzin National Orchestral Assoc. 1940 (Live) 37

Piatigorsky Charles Munch Boston Symphony 1960 56

Rostropovich Seiji Ozawa Boston Symphony 1985 58

Ma Lorin Maazel Berlin Philharmonic 1986 30

TIMINGS

The first striking feature one notes in comparing these recordings is the wide range of timings for the recordings. While this might seem to be unimportant at first, thesetimings are the result of the performers tempos and use of rubato and, while small

differences may be insignificant, huge variations cannot be ignored. The variation fromthe shortest recording, the 1928-29 Feuermann version at 32'49", to the longest, Yo-Yo



Ma at 42'08" is stunning. The Ma version runs almost ten minutes longer, almost a thirdagain the length of the Feuermann version. The others fall in between, with Casals at35'31", Feuermann live also at 35'31", Rostropovich at 38'58" and Piatigorsky at 41'55".

Some might further argue that timings are irrelevant to an analysis of the performers'

playing, due to the influence of the conductor and the sizable tuttis, but a clear anddirect correlation between the performers' chosen tempos and their overall timings wasfound, as will be seen in the next section. While avoiding an argument about whether itis better to play either faster or slower, a comparison of the Casals and Feuermanntempos and timings to those of the later performers illuminates a clear difference inapproach.

The differences in these five recordings raise a broader question as to whether theserecordings might be an indication of a wider trend. While it was not feasible to comparethe specific tempos of each performer on every available recording of the Dvorak, it is afairly simple matter to check the timings for each movement, which correlate fairly

consistently and meaningfully with the performers choice of tempos. The following is alist of commercial recordings with timings, put in chronological order by recordingdate. Unfortunately, there are very few recordings dating from before 1960, besides theaforementioned Casals and Feuermann, so any generalizations about trends over timemust assume them to be representative of their respective generations.

Performer Conductor Orchestra Mvts Total Year

Feuermann Taube Berlin State Opera House 11'58" 32'49" 1928-29

10'22"10'29"

Casals Szell Czech Philharmonic 13'27" 35'31" 193710'28"11'36"

Feuermann Barzin National Orch. Assoc. 13'09" 35'31" 194011'46"10'36"

Piatigorsky Munch Boston Symphony 15'45" 41'55" 196013'11"12'59"

Fournier Szell Berlin Philharmonic 14'44" 38'26" 196211'23"12'19"

Starker Dorati London Symphony 15'08" 38'06" 196211'11"11'47"




Rose Ormandy Philadelphia Orchestra 14'54" 38'48" 196311'37"12'17"

Gendron Haitink London Philharmonic 14'33" 39'12" 1967

11'50"12'49"

Rostropovich Karajan Berlin Philharmonic 15'42" 41'21" 196812'41"12'58"

Du Pré Barenboim Chicago Symphony 15'19" 42'00" 197113'12"13'29"

Nelsova Susskind St. Louis Symphony 14'08" 36'49" 197510'30"12'03"

Harell Levine London Symphony 14'50" 41'59" 197513'43"13'26"

Rostropovich Giulini London Philharmonic 16'28" 43'06" 197812'56"13'42"

Tortelier Previn London Symphony 15'20" 39'19" 197911'38"12'21"

Helmerson Jarvi Gothenburg Symphony 14'55" 38'51" 198311'25"12'31"

Rostropovich Ozawa Boston Symphony 14'44" 38'58" 1985

11'58"12'16"

Ma Maazel Berlin Philharmonic 16'04" 42'08" 198612'43"13'21"

Maisky Bernstein Israel Philharmonic 16'33" 43'28" 198913'20"13'35"



Kliegel Halasz Royal Philharmonic 16'13" 42'19" 199112'26"13'40"


Gutman Swallisch Philadelphia Orchestra 14'39" 39'01" 199112'24"11'58"

Starker Slatkin St. Louis Symphony 14'38" 38'27" 199111'01"12'48"

Schiff Previn Vienna Philharmonic 14'17" 37'20" 199211'16"

11'47"

Ma Masur New York Philharmonic 15'04" 40'28" 199512'34"12'50"

This list is, of course, only partial. Although no type of underlying trend seemsimmediately apparent from this list, what these timings clearly show is the extraordinarydifference between Feuermann and his successors. One need only look at Feuermann'stempos for the third movement, which yield a timing of 10'29" (10'36" in the liveversion.) The closest recording, Casals', is a full minute longer (11'36") and mostmodern versions are a full two to three minutes longer, with one Rostropovich versionat 13'42". It is difficult to believe that they were playing the same music! What canclearly be seen from this is that Feuermann played at tempos which were, on theaverage, much faster than those of all of the leading cellists of the last 40 years. In other words, either no cellists choose tempos as fast as Feuermann's, or they indulged in atremendous deal more rubato, or some combination of these factors. In the analysis of the six chosen recordings, both of these factors were observed.

The objective here is to understand how it was that Feuermann played, and his temposare a significant ingredient of that, not only for bravura technical display in fast

passages but also, much more significantly, in his choice of faster tempos for lyrical passages, which greatly change the listeners perception of the melodic line.

The earlier table of recording timings lacks any sense of generational flow since it isorganized based on the date the recordings were made rather than the age of the cellist.In order to observe better any possible generational groupings, consider the same listorganized by timing, shortest to longest, rather than by recording date:

Cellist Timing[2] Date

Feuermann 34'10" 1928/40

Casals 35'31" 1937 Nelsova 36'49" 1975



Schiff 37'20" 1992Starker 38'16" 1962/91Fournier 38'26" 1962Rose 38'48" 1963Helmerson 38'51" 1983

Gutman 39'01" 1991Gendron 39'12" 1967Tortelier 39'19" 1979Rostropovich 41'08" 1968/78/85Ma 41'18" 1986/95Piatigorsky 41'55" 1960Harell 41'59" 1975Du Pré 42'00" 1971Kliegel 42'19" 1991Maisky 43'28" 1989

From this a pattern can be seen to emerge. If you except Schiff and Piatigorsky, both of whom diverge from the trends of their respective generations, there is a grouping of 'older' generation cellists -Feuermann through Rose- with faster timings (and thus either faster tempos, less rubato or both), a middle ground -Helmerson through Tortelier-containing cellists of both generations, and the slower group which, with the exceptionof Piatigorsky, are all players considered to be of the 'modern' school. This providessome support for the idea that rubato has become more liberal and tempos have becomeslower in this half of the century, as many have claimed. While this is interesting, weshould also not assume too much merely from record timings. Conductors and tuttis dohave an impact, and while timings correlate with general tempos, small differencesaren't necessarily significant. Only the larger, striking differences, such as seen incomparing Feuermann's performances with those of the modern cellists, can truly beconsidered meaningful.

This generational difference is not limited to cellists. Consider Harvey Sachs' discussionof Rubinstein's 1929 recording of the Brahms Second Piano Concerto:

"... this version is worth hearing, inasmuch as most of its tempos are shockingly fastcompared to those that have become the norm in our day. Brahms did not often putmetronome numbers in his works, but in this case he took special care to do so. If onewere to follow his indications inflexibly-which, of course, was not his intention-the first

movement would last about 16:30, the second and third about 7:30 each (including therepeat in the second and allowing a great deal of leeway for the slower parts of thethird), and the finale about 8:50. Here are the timings for two thoughtfully and

beautifully played modern recordings: Alfred Brendel with Claudio Abbado and theBerlin Philharmonic (Deutsche Grammophon)-17:52, 9:20, 12:15, 9:21; Vladimir Ashkenazy with Bernard Haitink and the Vienna Philharmonic (Philips)-18:40, 9:26,13:07, 9:29. The timings for every movement of Rubinstein's 1958 recording are alsoslower (16:53, 9:05, 12:39, 9:02) than Brahms indicated but not as broad as Brendel's or Ashkenazy's-except the third movement, which is slightly shorter in Brendel's version.If one listens to the well-known Horowitz-Toscanini-NBC Symphony recording of 1940, one hears a performance that is closer still to Brahms indications (the timings are

16:15, 8:06, 11:05, 8:25) and-in the case of the first and fourth movements-a jot faster than the composers guidelines suggested. But to contemporary ears, Rubinstein's 1929



recording (timings: 14:35, 8:10, 9:09, 7:54) sounds rushed in every movement exceptthe second, and absurdly so in the third, which, however, is not played nearly as quicklyas Brahms indicated....When one listens, today, to a recordings of the Brahms symphonies conducted byFelix Weingartner or Toscanini, one hears tempos that are considerably faster, on the

average, than those to which we have become accustomed in recent decades. And yetWeingartner had conducted Brahms for Brahms (and had received the composer's

praise) and Toscanini had modeled his approach on that of Fritz Steinbach, who wasone of Brahms's favorite conductors. Barth, Rubinstein's teacher, had played Brahms'smusic in the composer's presence and the young Rubinstein had heard Brahms played

by many other proto-Brahmsians. I would be willing to bet that, despite its defects,Rubinstein's 1929 recording of the concerto was closer to what Brahms had in mindwhen he wrote the work than is Rubinstein's 1958 recording or any of the later ones byother pianists." [3]

TEMPOS

Returning to consideration of the six selected recordings, a specific comparison of tempos in the first movement further reinforces the differences suggested by the overalltimings, in more meaningful detail. No performer plays in a strict metronomic fashion,so it is difficult to assign metronome markings for any section that are entirely accurate.While Dvorak indicates only two different tempos for the entire movement, all of thecellists in these recordings make additional tempo changes, which are traditional but notspecifically indicated in the score. To get a practical map of each performers' tempos,the movement can be divided into 13 general tempo sections, though some of thesesections contain accelerandi or other subtle tempo changes within. The starting pointsfor each of these sections are as follows:



From these we can construct a basic 'map' of each performers tempos throughout themovement as follows:



Again, it should be stressed that no performance was metronomic, and that manysubtleties could not be accounted for in such a format, so the above results are only an

approximate guideline. This chart does clearly indicate the great difference between both of Feuermann's performances and the other cellists', however. The similarity



between Feuermann's tempos on his recorded version, which he made when he was 25-26, and the live version, made when he was 37 is striking. While a few of the 'live'tempos were incrementally slower, specifically towards the end, where Feuermannslightly moderated the extremely fast tempos of his earlier version in the last sections,the overall agreement is so striking as to provide a clear rebuttal to the argument, which

is occasionally put forth, that Feuermann chose his tempos in order to make the sectionsfit onto the sides of a 78 RPM records. Clearly these are the tempos Feuermann felt

belonged to the music. His consistency in this provides an interesting contrast to thethree Rostropovich recordings mentioned in the earlier section on timings, in whichRostropovich's tempos greatly varied from recording to recording.

The opening section finds all the cellists in more or less the same tempo range, withCasals producing the quickest and most straightforward version and only Masignificantly slower (and also somewhat more erratic rhythmically) than the rest. At thefollowing 'Vivo' section, Feuermann's tempo is near that of the others, who are allsignificantly faster than Dvorak's indication. The difference comes with Feuermann's

gradual accelerando during the technically challenging passage work in the measures prior to 5, which leaves him at a significantly faster tempo than the others. Piatigorsky,in contrast, ritards in this difficult passage. This illustrates a tendency seen frequentlywith Feuermann. In climactic passages which are also technically demanding, whileother cellists often slow slightly to accommodate the passage work, Feuermann tends toaccelerate, giving the impression of breathless excitement and daredevil risk taking.

It is in the second theme, and other slower, more lyrical themes, that the contrast between Feuermann and Casals versus the latter cellists becomes more apparent. In the

second theme, which Dvorak indicates at =100, Feuermann plays (both times) at

=96 and Casals plays at

=104. Rostropovich plays much slower at

=84,Piatigorsky even slower at=72-76 and Ma begins at only=66, only reaching

=84 after the accelerando at the end of the passage. When we examine this passagein detail later in this chapter, an interesting connection is seen. The cellists who choosethe slower tempos are also the ones who engage in the largest amounts of rubato.

Without arguing whether playing more slowly is more or less desirable, we shouldconsider the difference that a quicker or slower tempo makes in the listener's perception.For the purpose of demonstration, consider the analogy of a sentence. There is a naturalspeed at which the spoken sentence is easily understandable. If the words are spoken tooquickly, the details blur. If spoken too slowly, the overall meaning of the sentence

becomes difficult to focus on, as each individual word and inflection takes on anexaggerated importance. This phenomenon is described in the science of InformationTheory and applies to any transmission- whether audible, visual or electronic- whichcontains 'information'. Thus the same principles can be seen in a musical phrase.Playing too quickly for the brain's ability to analyze information would cause importantdetails to be missed. Playing too slowly would cause the focus to shift away from thelarger phrase and towards the details of each small segment or even each note. This isintuitively understood by many musicians who teach that 'playing faster helps to bringout the long line'. Thus, when choosing to play the second theme at much slower tempos, Rostropovich, Piatigorsky and Ma are, perhaps unwittingly, shifting thelisteners perception from the larger structure towards the individual notes and small

'sub-phrases'.



In the Tempo Io section following the second theme, Feuermann plays the spiccatosextuplet figures at a much more rapid tempo than any of the other cellists. All thecellists make a ritard at the end of this figuration into the next section, after which theyaccelerate to the end of the exposition. Here again, although they all follow a similar framework, Feuermann is distinctly faster than the others. The entrance of the cello at

10 shows again how exaggerated the differences between the cellists becomes in theslower passages. Dvorak's marking is=100. Casals and both Feuermann versions

are at that tempo. Rostropovich is 20 points lower at=80, Ma even slower at

=76 and Piatigorsky playing only at=63. In the Animato that follows, all thecellists make an unwritten but traditional accelerando into 12. Again Feuermann ismuch faster, and again we see Feuermann's tendency to accelerate in sections where

both the musical tension and the technical difficulty are increasing. The differing impact

of Feuermann's tempo upon arrival at 12 at=152 and Ma's at=116 must beheard to be truly understood.

The ensuing restatement of the second theme and subsequent material in B major follows much the same pattern as before, though all the cellists play the second theme a

bit faster this time except Casals, who starts slightly slower this time and thenaccelerates. The tempos of the spiccato sextuplet section were similar to the tempos of its first occurrence for all the cellists, but in the accelerando in the following section,Casals and Feuermann made even more accelerando than they did in the earlier statement, while the other cellists played much as they had the first time. In the codaand ensuing Più mosso we again see Feuermann clearly faster than the others, and againaccelerating through the technical difficulties towards the climax, while the others heldsteady or slowed. Here Feuermann is much faster than Dvorak's indication, ending his

recorded version at a stunning=176 where the marking in the score is=132,

which the other cellists approximately adhere to. Feuermann's spectacular tempo iscertainly compelling to the listener, but Feuermann later moderated it somewhat when

he ended the live version, twelve years later, at=160, still much faster than any of the other cellists but slightly slower than his tempo for the recorded version.

From this discussion of timings and tempos, it is obvious that Feuermann performed attempos much faster than those of the other cellists, with only Casals' tempos anywhereclose. Clearly tempos have a large effect on how the music is perceived by the listener,and Feuermann's choice of tempos clearly contributes to the difference between hisstyle of playing and that of other cellists. But it is also obviously only one aspect of what distinguishes Feuermann's playing .

Another thing that becomes clear, when trying to attribute metronome indications tothese recordings, is how much the listener's perception of rhythm differs from the realityof the metronome. While Feuermann's performances seemed to provide the clearest'feel' of the beat -meaning that to a listener, the rhythm and tempo seemed the most clear and compelling- when trying to set a metronome, one found a slightly changing tempothroughout almost every measure -a constant rhythmic 'push and pull'- makingmetronome indications sometimes recordable only as a range between two or threeadjacent markings or as an average. At the same time, other performers, particularlyRostropovich and Ma, whose performances did not yield to the ear as strong a sense of tempo or rhythm, fit more easily within a specific metronome marking. From this, it isclear that the feeling and perception of rhythm are conveyed much more by the



performers choice of emphasis or 'pulse' than by strict adherence to any absolutemetronomic rhythm.

Listening to Piatigorsky, one gets the feeling that he is frequently ritarding, seeminglyin almost every phrase. Listening to Rostropovich and Ma, one gets the impression of

much slowing down and speeding up, sometimes seemingly capriciously. Casals, incontrast, seems to be the 'straightest' of the group. With Feuermann, while one mightsense a small 'pushing and pulling' of the rhythm in the course of the phrasing, one isonly really aware of a tempo change during the major tempo changes. Perhaps this isthe result of more subtle use of rubato or by his emphasis of key notes (and avoidanceof emphasis on notes which are only transitory and rhythmically weak) to create a clear sense of pulse, even if the rhythm is not metronomic. Perhaps he is also aided by aquicker tempo, which shifts the listener's focus towards the larger outline. In any case, itseems that for Feuermann, the sense of rhythm is created by the way he phrases.

In a 1987 review in The Strad, Harris Goldsmith makes similar observations about the

performers' tempos and use of rubato in comparing three of the same recordings of theDvorak (Feuermann, 1940, Casals, 1937 and Ma, 1986) that we have considered:

"...In 1940-41 when these performances took place, Feuermann's style doubtless didsound more 'modern' than Casals' - leaner, more brilliant, less rhetorical and effusivelyemotional. What I find instructive listening to the playing forty-five years later is how

similar the Feuermann manner was to Casals' in its essentials - and how far removedboth these masters are from today's norm. The biggest change is in our attitude towardsforward direction: one has but to juxtapose either this 1940 Feuermann/Barzin recordingof the Dvorak Concerto, or the 1937 version of same by Casals and Szell, with a finemodern performance such as the newly issued Yo Yo Ma/Maazel/BerlinPhilharmonic(CBS...) to appreciate how much the pendulum has swung to the other side. (The contrast is even more noteworthy since Maazel is generally regarded as beinga "precisionist" maestro in the same "objective" and technically-oriented tradition asBarzin and Szell.) Whereas both Feuermann and Casals project the music's tensilequalities with impelling thrust, Ma, and, more crucially, his conductor, take slower tempos and seize upon every excuse for a tenuto as if forward motion was to be equatedwith insensitivity....(in the 1940 Feuermann recording) much of the rapid high position passagework iscleaner, more assertive, than on the Casals record, but, as with Casals, there is anardour, a willingness to take chances...And present, too, is a

marvellous sense for the long line...It (the 1940 Feuermann recording) is, everythingconsidered, a very great interpretation (which will, one hopes, gain adherants and helpreverse the current fondness for lugubriousness.)" [4]

VIBRATO

While each cellist's usage of vibrato varies from note to note, their overall patterns anddifferences are consistent throughout the recordings. It is difficult to discuss vibrato inany kind of absolute terminology. The factors which may vary are the width and speedof the oscillation, and the change in these throughout the duration of a note. Even if it

were possible to make a quantitative representation of these factors for each cellist, itwould not necessarily be enlightening. It is more practical to pick one recording as a



vibrato speed slows with age, but the effect of this faster vibrato makes the soundquality more focused and adds a greater underlying element of tension to the sound.One can not help but wonder whether this change in his vibrato might have beeninfluenced by Heifetz, with whom he was now collaborating regularly. Certainly thecharacter of his vibrato at this time sounds very similar to that of Heifetz's.

Besides the greater speed, the major difference between Feuermann's vibrato and that of the other cellists was the initial impulse. His students have sometimes described theinitial sounding of a note with the Feuermann vibrato as an 'impulse' from the left hand.If this impulse actually results in more vibrato at the beginning of the note and then aslight relaxation, the effect is almost too subtle to detect. What is clearly noticeable,however, is that the vibrato begins exactly with the sounding of the note, whereas for the other cellists, the vibrato begins, to varying degrees, after the note has begun tosound. Since adding vibrato to a note that has already sounded without vibratointensifies the character of the sound, the vibrato technique of the other cellists producesat least a slight swell after the beginning of most notes. Feuermann's notes, in contrast,

began with full vibrato, and thus maximum intensity, at the start, from which point it iseither sustained or relaxed. While this might seem a relatively minor technical point, thedifference made by having the maximum intensity of sound at the beginning of the noterather than having an intensification during the course of the note makes an enormousdifference, and was integral to Feuermann's sound and manner of phrasing. Consideringits overall effect, it is a striking difference between Feuermann's playing and that of theother cellists.

The second major difference could be described as consistency of application of vibrato.All of the other cellists studied tended, to varying degrees, to let the vibrato trail off during the course of a note, and also to produce notes with no vibrato at all in themiddle of otherwise heavily vibrated passages, drawing attention to these notes in amanner that was presumably not deliberate. For Feuermann, it seems that the vibratowas as integral a part of producing the note as stopping the string, and that he wouldrarely do one without the other, unless in a passage so rapid as to make it impossible.Feuermann also vibrates on notes which many other cellists do not or can not. Oneexample of this is the octave passage at the end of the first movement of the Dvorak:

Here Feuermann vibrates on the top note of the octave which most cellists do not, producing a vibrant, 'alive' sound almost akin to a violin. Furthermore, only rarely doyou hear a swell or diminuendo effect produced from Feuermann's changing the speedof vibrato during the course of a note, and only when it is intentionally produced tocoincide with a crescendo or diminuendo made by the bow. The swells produced byMa's delayed application and changing intensity of vibrato produce the effect of manysmall crescendi, sometimes on each successive note, and it seems possible that it is donemore from habitual reflex than deliberate choice.



Though Feuermann's approach to vibrato seems unique among cellists, it is notdissimilar to that of Heifetz and other violinists of the era, and the type of focused,intense sound that it produced may have contributed to the impression given by so manyof his contemporaries that he was 'playing the cello like a violin'.

GLISSANDI

While it is difficult to make generalizations about the cellists' use of glissandi withoutreferring to specific examples, it is very clear to anyone who has ever heard aFeuermann recording that he employs them to a much greater extent than most other cellists. As he explained to David Soyer [5], his use of glissandi related to his

philosophy that the cello is "not a clarinet. You don't just cover the holes with your fingers." He believed that the cello should have the same fluidity as the human voiceand that the glissandi he employed helped to make it sound so. But there were major differences in the way Feuermann produced his glissandi in comparison to the other cellists.

Consider the factors a cellist may control in the production of a glissando: the speed of the glissando, and the volume, including crescendi and decrescendi, with which it is

produced (which depends on the pressure, speed and placement of the bow.) In spite of all the complications that arise when one considers the many different techniques of

producing glissandi that are employed, these are the only significant factors which canvary. It is important to clarify here the difference between a glissando and a change of

position, both of which are often referred to as 'shifts'. It is generally agreed that it wasCasals' innovation to shift positions without necessarily producing an accompanyingglissando, as his predecessors had done, often in a manner that many considered vulgar or even grotesque. It is clear from Feuermann's teaching that he was very much againstthe incidental production of glissandi as a byproduct of changing positions, and fromthe recordings it is also clear that Feuermann produced glissandi only where he choseto, and that he conscientiously avoided producing glissandi otherwise.

What is immediately obvious in examining Feuermann's glissandi is that, despite thefact that he employed them to a great extent, the glissandi do not receive a great deal of emphasis, either from the amount of time taken in producing them or from their dynamic. They seem rather more like a type of 'connective tissue' between notes than anevent in their own right. Whatever the degree of emphasis that Feuermann gave aglissando, the arrival and departure notes received more.

Feuermann's slides tend to fall into certain distinct types: when making a descending [6]glissando, Feuermann almost always decrescendos, with the important emphasis goingto the top (departure) note and uppermost part of the glissando. Frequently, Feuermann

performs the glissando by traveling back on the finger which played the top note, onlyswitching to the lower finger when the arrival position has been reached. This producesa glissando that does not sound in the very last portion prior to the arrival note, whichhelps to emphasize the upper portion of the glissando and matches the decrescendo. For ascending glissandi, Feuermann employed both crescendi and decrescendi. In either case, it is proportionally the upper part of the glissando which is heard, and it is thearrival note which takes precedence as the musical 'event'. In fact, some Feuermann

glissandi are so subtle that they require repeated listening simply to become clearlyaware of them.



Casals, in contrast, produces glissandi that tend to be slower and more evenlyemphasized throughout the course of the glissando. When he makes a glissando, one ismuch more aware of it. In contrast to a Feuermann glissando, Casals would tend todepart more quickly from the departure note, travel more slowly through the course of the glissando, and sustain the same dynamic throughout the course of the glissando.

This created a much larger, more obvious effect, sometimes overshadowing thedeparture and arrival notes. In addition, Casals sometimes emphasizes the lower part of the glissando on downwards glissandi, where Feuermann would do the opposite. Casalsemployed glissandi less frequently but, because of his method of producing them, moreobviously than Feuermann.

The other three cellists make much less use of glissandi than either Casals or Feuermann. In the case of Piatigorsky, many of his few obvious slides are short slides of a whole or half step. While some of Piatigorsky's glissandi employ a release of tensionsimilar to Feuermann's, others, particularly the shorter slides, are produced in an even,heavily emphasized style and slower speed, more similar to Casals.

Rostropovich also makes few glissandi. One which is particularly noticeable, andunique to him in this comparison, was a type of heavy downward glissando over a largedistance, fast and heavily emphasized, and with the major emphasis on the lower part of the glissando. An example of this can be seen at 1 m. before 5 :

The few other types of glissandi Rostropovich makes are fairly fast, but with a constantdynamic throughout,. They sometimes seem almost to be incidentally produced byshifting, and produce a sound that has been rather vividly described as 'slurpy'.

Ma employs more glissandi than Piatigorsky or Rostropovich, though they similarlytend to concern the change of position in small intervals. His glissandi are produced at aslow speed with heavy emphasis throughout, producing a very noticeable, and more

extremely emphasized effect than any the other cellists. An example of this can be seen3 mm. before 6 :

Here Ma makes a heavy glissando from the E to the A and then another heavy glissandofrom the A back down to the F#. These heavy, slow glissandi tend to draw the listenersfocus away from the melodic line.



In Feuermann's 1940 live recording he employs a greater number of glissandi than inthe 1928-29 version, but the glissandi are of lighter character. The glissandi on theearlier recording are sometimes slightly slower and more emphasized. In the later recording, the glissandi are more numerous but less obvious.

Besides his greater use of glissandi, what is clearly different about Feuermann'sglissandi, in comparison to those of the other cellists, is his technique of producing themwith only enough emphasis to affect a connection between notes, but not so much as todistract from the musical line. More specifically, it seems as if most of his glissandi areaccompanied by a feeling of relaxation or release. On the descending glissandi, theemphasis of only the upper part of the glissando ensures that it does not disturb thenatural release of tension that is usually involved in descending melodically. Whenother cellists occasionally produce descending glissandi with more emphasis on thelower part of the glissando than the upper, the effect can sound somewhat distorted. Inthe ascending glissandi, Feuermann also emphasizes the upper part of the glissando,again following the natural musical line. It is often only the very last part of the

glissando, right before the arrival note, that the listener is aware of. Regardless of thedegree of emphasis a glissando received, all were produced with the same basicunderlying principles.

It is also interesting to note how cleanly and completely without a hint of glissandoFeuermann played in those places where he changed position but chose not to make aglissando. These instances clearly show that he did not create glissandi inadvertently.But it was Feuermann's frequent use of subtle glissandi to connect notes withoutdistracting from the overall phrase that was one of the unique and immediatelyrecognizable aspects of his playing.

A cautionary note: it is almost impossible to accurately describe all the subtledifferences between glissandi in words. Certain details that are obvious to the ear defyverbal description. General differences in approach have been outlined here, but tocompletely understand the differences between the cellists glissandi, one must also hear the recordings.

DETAILED COMPARISON

Many of the details of phrasing can only be seen through detailed examination of aninterpreter's performance. To better understand each performer's use of accents,

emphasis, dynamics and rhythm, we must focus more closely on specific sections.Rather than attempting to discuss with each cellist every different technical factor thathelps creates an emphasis on a given note, it is simpler and probably more meaningfulto approach the discussion from the listener's perspective, noting simply on which notesthe performers create emphasis. Typically this emphasis results from stronger bow

pressure or speed, but other factors may also cause or contribute to a note's feeling of emphasis, including accents, vibrato, slides, the relative dynamic level, etc... For instance, a crescendo during the course of a note (which will also be described as aswell) would cause the normal emphasis, on the first part of a note, to be overshadowed

by the latter part of the note. Similarly a slide into a note, a greater or lesser amount of vibrato on a note, or any other factor which distinguishes a note from the surrounding

notes could contribute to the amount of emphasis it receives in the ears of the listener.In short, the 'emphasized' notes are those to which the listeners attention is drawn.



Typically these are the climactic points of phrases. The term 'focus' of a measure or phrase is used to refer to the point within the measure or phrase with the greatestamount of emphasis.

We will consider two excerpts: the initial entrance of the cello in the first movement and

the second theme, which provide an interesting contrast in which to observe the performers. For simplicity of reference, these excerpts are reprinted before thediscussion:

The opening motif (mm.1-2) provides immediate contrast. Feuermann extends therhythmic value of the initial B and shortens the 16th notes, while placing the importantemphasis on the B's of the first and third beats. Casals similarly lengthens the openingnote and shortens the 16ths, but makes a swell on the second B of each measure,moving the emphasis towards the very end of the measure, away from the second B.

Piatigorsky also lengthens the opening B, but does not correspondingly shorten thefollowing 16ths, and also puts an accent on the first 16th -the C#- moving the focal

point of the measure to that note. Piatigorsky also makes a crescendo on the B in the

second half of the measure. In the second measure, unlike the first measure, Piatigorskydoes not lengthen the B, but does shorten the 16ths this time, again adding an elementof rhythmical ambiguity. Whereas with Feuermann and Casals the emphasis for bothmeasures was on the first (and for Feuermann third) beat B's, with Piatigorsky, theemphasis was on the C# 16th in the first measure and the B on the first beat of thesecond.

Rostropovich plays the first measure fairly rhythmically, also crescendoing through thesecond B, and playing the 16ths in a much more legato fashion. In the second measure,however, he elongates the 16th notes, moving the focal point of the measure towards the16ths.

Ma shortens the 16th notes greatly and also plays them somewhat unevenly, making aslight accelerando. He also places heavy accents on the opening B, the first 16th C#,and swell on the third beat B, which he shortens more than the other cellists, making italmost a quarter note. In the second measure, he places emphasis on the opening B andthe first 16th A, though the 16ths are this time at full value, making a rhythmic contrastwith the first measure. The third beat B is shortened and swells as in the first measure.Only Feuermann and Casals play the rhythm and accents of both the first two barssimilarly, and in the Feuermann version the focal point of each measure is clearly on thefirst and third beat both times.



In the following measures (mm.3-4) all the cellists increase the tempo somewhat, withall the cellists placing the greatest emphasis on the third beat D#. For Feuermann, thetempo is immediately faster and the rhythm is proportional. Clear emphasis is alsoheard on the first two beats, though the third is clearly the arrival point. In the followingchords, Feuermann is unique in this group of cellists in his creating a slight decrescendoduring the descending chord sequence, though still giving each chord strong emphasis.

Casals places a heavy emphasis on the first beat, as well as the arrival at the third, and plays the following chords in a very short detached manner. Piatigorsky also placesemphasis on all the first three beats, but his accelerando is noticeably different in thatthe first 16th note seems to fall too quickly, even for the new tempo, giving an elementof rhythmical ambiguity to the new tempo.

Rostropovich plays the down-beat of m.3 slightly earlier than would be expected basedon the tempo of the previous measure, and shortens the first 16th note to approximatelya 32nd and the second 16th to a value about halfway between a 16th and 32nd. Thetempo of the ensuing chords is immediately slower, though there is a slight accelerandoand ritard during the course of the chords.

Ma lengthens the first B on the down-beat of m.3, which he follows with a very short16th and an accelerando through the second beat to the accented third beat. This third

beat emphasis, however, is detracted from somewhat by a crescendo during that note.The tempo of the ensuing chords seems to have little relation to the earlier tempo in themeasure, being much slower, though he does make a small accelerando during thecourse of the chords.

The ensuing four measures (mm. 5-8) follow similar patterns to the first four measuresexcept that Casals now lengthens the 16ths in m.6, increasing their proportional

importance in the measure.

In mm.9-12 Feuermann plays in almost the identical tempo to the previous measures,

making only a slight accelerando from the end of m. 11 to the fourth beat of m.12,where he pulls back. He accents each beat of the first two measures, in accordance with



Dvorak's fz indications, though the largest emphasis is given to the third beat. Inmm.11-12, Feuermann places the major emphasis on the down-beat of measure 11, andthen no major emphasis until the four 16ths on the fourth beat of m.12, marked pesante ,which Feuermann accents.

Casals takes a tempo at m.9 which is immediately quite a bit faster than that of the preceding measure, and goes faster yet at m.11. The main accents in mm.9-10 are on thefirst beats of the measures, and mm.11-12 are played quite 'straight' with relatively littleaccent or accelerando, even on the pesante 16ths.

Piatigorsky starts m.9 a little faster than the previous measure, but the tempo of thedotted eighth/sixteenth figures on beats three and four seems not to match the tempo of the 16ths in the first part of the measure. The main emphasis in the first two measures ison the third beat, but there is also an accent on the third 16th of the first beats of bothmeasures, preceded by a crescendo over the first two 16ths. In m.12 Piatigorsky makesan accelerando and then a ritard over the course of the last two beats. This ritard starts

earlier and slows more, in comparison to Feuermann's at the same section.

Rostropovich begins m.9 in approximately the same tempo as the previous measure, and plays the next two measures in this tempo, though he shortens the 16ths of the third beats to 32nds. At the down-beat of m.11, Rostropovich goes immediately much faster,and makes a tremendous accelerando over the next few beats. At the down-beat of m.12, he holds the down-beat C and then makes a very big ritard into m.13

Ma accents each beat in mm. 9-10. His tempo is suddenly faster than in the previousmeasure, but the last 16th of the first two beats is too short relative to the previous three,

producing a slightly arrhythmic 'limping' effect. Ma also accelerates through the thirdand fourth beats of both these measures. In m.11, Ma makes a small ritard over the firstthree notes and then an accelerando until the pesante , where he ritards.

In mm.13-16, Feuermann places a strong emphasis on the down-beat F#. The tempo in

m.13 is established by the orchestra, but when Feuermann again has moving notes inm.14, he takes a tempo which is slightly faster than that of the orchestra. A slide into theD# on the fourth beat of m.14 gives that note a certain amount of emphasis, andFeuermann makes a small tenuto there. This does not create the effect of a ritard,however, as the following G is shortened and the down-beat of the next measure fallswhere it would have in the original tempo. Feuermann makes a small ritard on the last

beat of m.16 and slides into the final G, and the consequent emphasis makes it the focal point of the measure.

Casals also begins m.14 slightly faster than the orchestra's tempo, and slides to the G,the last note of m.14. This slide, combined with a ritard, puts the main emphasis on this

note. In m.16 Casals makes a slight accelerando and then a ritard, giving a slightlyuneven feel to the overall rhythm. Casals also slides and ritards into the final G in m.16,



again making it the 'arrival' point. Piatigorsky similarly ritards in the last beats of m. 14and 16, and makes a similar slide into the final G of m.16.

Rostropovich begins m.14 at a much faster tempo than the orchestra, and again in m.16starts much faster than the orchestra's tempo in the preceding measure. In m.16 he

accelerates and then ritards, with the ritard becoming extreme on the fourth beat. Theoverall effect is somewhat chaotic rhythmically.

Ma begins m.13 with a large accent, but no vibrato, which produces an unusualsounding accent, with a harsh attack and a quick decay. He accelerates through m.14and makes a similar type of accent on m.15, except that this time he adds vibrato as thenote continues. He accelerates through m.16 until the last beat, and makes a slow andheavily emphasized slide to the final G.

In the trills (mm.17-23) Feuermann is immediately somewhat faster. He follows thecrescendo to m.22 and this down-beat is given the greatest emphasis, though the C# onthe fourth beat of this measure, and the B and A# on the first and third beats of thefollowing measure also have significant emphasis. Feuermann makes a ritard in m.23and then begins the Vivo at a new faster tempo.

Casals places the emphasis similarly to Feuermann except that he makes a swell on theA# and B of m.21. This means that instead of the main emphasis going to the beginningof each of these notes, it goes to the latter part, and the beginning of the following noteis a slight dynamic drop. Casals plays m. 23 going into the Vivo with very little ritard.

Piatigorsky holds the base note of each trill before beginning the trill, making it heavilyemphasized and making the trill sound relatively less emphasized. He emphasizes m.22and 23, and ritards before m.24, but the last three trills before the Vivo have a verynoticeable decay in volume, giving the effect of a small decrescendo on each note.

Rostropovich's version is most noticeably different in that the tempo he takes for these

measures is actually faster than his tempo for the 'Vivo' section, so that when the 'Vivo' begins, he actually slows down a bit from his previous tempo. Otherwise, the generalline that he follows is similar to that of the other cellists.

Ma's version is noticeable for its extreme accent and subsequent decay on the first trill.He follows Dvorak's fz, decrescendo marking in this way, and then plays the followingtrills very much in a piano dynamic. This approach is unique among the cellists studiedhere, but the success of this effect will have to be judged by the listener. Ma makesswells on both the trills in m. 21, shifting the emphasis towards the ends of each of those notes, and then makes a large accent on the down-beat of m.22. This accent isfollowed by a diminuendo through the course of the note, and then there is another

swell on the following C#, and again on the final A# before the Vivo.



The second section considered is the second theme of the first movement:

In mm.1-4, Feuermann places the major emphasis on the down beats of m.1 and m.2,the third beat of m.3 and the first and fourth beats of m.4. He elongates the first F# of the first measure slightly, and then moves forward on the following eighths tocompensate. He also moves forward through the first three beats of the second measure,and pulls back on the fourth beats of m.3 and m.4. Casals interpretation is much thesame, except that he decrescendos on the fourth beat of m.4, and hence does notemphasize it as Feuermann does.

Piatigorsky 's choice of emphasis is similar, but he makes much larger ritards. He takesa small pause before the fourth beat of m.2 and then makes a large ritard through m.3,and another again in m.4. Besides the larger proportion of these ritards, what is differentfrom the ritards of Feuermann and Casals is that there is less sense of a resumption of the original tempo following the ritard. While the ritards of Casals and Feuermanncould be considered 'pushing and pulling' the phrase, Piatigorsky seems only to beslowing down.

In Rostropovich's version, a swell on the first F# in the first measure moves theemphasis towards the latter half of the note. The second eighth note, the D, also receives

a strong emphasis. The down-beat of m.2 is emphasized, and the next three beats have asmall accelerando, but the open A string on the third beat is so loud as to give it a(presumably) unintentional accent and the fourth beat D is also emphasized. There isalso a slight pulling back going into the down-beat of m.3, and emphasis is also given tothat down-beat. Rostropovich also differs from the previous cellists by decrescendoingto the top A on the third beat of m.3. He makes a slight ritard on the last two beats of that measure, and also a ritard on the last beat of the fourth measure.

Ma begins the whole passage at a very soft dynamic, but immediately makes a swellduring the course of the first F# in m.1. While he accelerates to the third beat of m.3, hemakes a decrescendo on the fourth beat, drawing the focus of the measure away from

the third beat. Ma makes a very large ritard on the fourth beat of m.4. What is mostnotable, however, are the numerous small swells, as many notes tend to begin verysoftly and than increase in intensity during the course of the note.

In mm.5-8, Feuermann emphasizes the down-beat and the first eighth note of m.5, thedown-beat and the fourth beat of m.6, and the third beat of m.7. He ritards slightly



through the three eighth notes in m.5, elongates the F# on the third beat of m.7, and pulls back the tempo slightly on the following triplets. He also pulls back on the fourth beat of m.8 which is, of course, actually the beginning of the next phrase.

Casals emphasizes the first beat of m. 5, but lengthens the second eighth note, the D,

making the last two eighth notes sound almost like a dotted eighth/sixteenth pairing.This naturally adds emphasis to that D. While Casals similarly emphasizes the A on thefourth beat of m.6, he crescendos during the note, adding more emphasis towards thelatter part of that note. Casals slides into the third beat of m.7 and lengthens this F#, butdoesn't make much ritard on the following triplets. Casals also pulls back the fourth beatof m.8, and plays these up-beats at a much softer dynamic.

Piatigorsky continues his ritard from m.4 over the first three beats of m.5 but, though henever really regains the tempo, the A on the third beat of m.6 falls earlier than would beexpected. Piatigorsky likewise gives the most emphasis to the F# on the third beat of m.7, and makes a large ritard over the course of the final two beat of this measure. Like

Feuermann and Casals, he also ritards in the last beat of m.8, but slightly more so.

For Rostropovich, the third beat of m.6 similarly comes earlier than would be expected.The striking difference, however, is that Rostropovich decrescendos into the third beatof m.7, which the previous cellists had made the arrival point of their phrases. Thisdecrescendo also makes the following E, which begins the triplets, seem to stand outwith special emphasis. Rostropovich ritards in the last beat of m.8 and drops down to a

pianissimo dynamic, which he maintains throughout the next phrase.

Ma again makes a swell on the first note of m.5, and on the first note of m.6. He makesthe A on the fourth beat of m.6 the high point of his phrase, and decrescendos fromthere into m.8. He ritards through the triplets in m.8 and makes a very large ritard intom.9

In the next two measures (mm.9-10) Feuermann places the emphasis on the down-beatsof each measure, and makes possibly a slight accelerando through three eighths in m.9.Casals places the emphasis similarly, but makes a swell on the opening B of m.9 andalso shortens the third beat of m.10, presumably in preparation for the position change.Piatigorsky, too, makes the same emphases and similarly accelerates through the eightnotes in m.9. Rostropovich and Ma are similar, though Rostropovich plays this section

pianissimo.



Over the course of the next seven measures (mm.11-17), Feuermann begins a gradualaccelerando, which becomes even more apparent at the Animato at m.15 and carriesthrough the end of the section. While Feuermann makes a ritard in the last two beats of m.17 in the earlier recording, he does not in the later live version. The emphases in thissection are quite straightforward: In the measures with two groups of two notes (i.e.

mm.11, 13 and 15-17) the emphasis is clearly on the first and third beats, that is the firstnote of each grouping of two. There is no decrescendo to the second note of thesegroups however, which are also strongly present. In the other two measures (mm.12 and14) the emphasis is on the down-beat only. The secondary emphasis on the latter note of the groupings of two continues to increase during the section, however, so thateventually the first and second notes begin to have almost the same amount of emphasis. Feuermann makes one significant change to the score at this point, playingthe final climactic phrase (mm.15-17) an octave higher than written, yielding a veryintense effect. In the live version, Feuermann also effects a small slide into the down-

beat of m.13. While the largest emphasis in mm.11-12 is on the F# on the down-beat of m.12, but this slide helps to move the focus of mm.13-14 to the E on the down-beat of

m.13, and thus, in both cases, agree with Dvorak's indicated crescendi and decrescendi.

Casals slides into the first E on the down-beat of m.11, and it receives correspondingemphasis. It is the second and fourth beats of this measure, however, which receive thegreatest emphasis, effecting a kind of crescendo through each of the two note groupings.While only the down-beat of m.12 is emphasized, the previous pattern is again apparentin m.13, and a descending slide into the fourth beat adds further emphasis to it still. Inm. 14, the down-beat F# is emphasized, but there is a crescendo during the following E.In the final three measures each of the quarters notes receives approximately equalemphasis, though a slide into the second beat of 16 gives it further emphasis. Casalsalso ritards in the final two beats of m.17. Casals' accelerando throughout the section ismuch less evident than Feuermann's.

Piatigorsky makes a slow slide into the second beat of m.11, causing it to have a strongemphasis. He ritards in the last beat of m.11 and plays the first two notes of m.12 muchslower than expected, making them sound more like even valued notes than a quarter followed by a half note. This rhythmic distortion may also be the cause of the fourth

beat of the m.12 seeming to sound too early. Piatigorsky then repeats the same slide,ritard and rhythm in the next two measures. From mm.15 to the end, after a small tenutoon the down-beat A of m.15, his phrasing is fairly straightforward, with the traditionalritard on the final two beats of m.17.

With Rostropovich, the emphasis on the latter note in the groups of two is even more pronounced, giving the effect of a crescendo through each group of two. In m. 12 andm.14, though he does not change the rhythm of the first three beats, the fourth beat stillseems to come too quickly, as with Piatigorsky. In mm.15-17, the emphasis of thesecond note of each grouping becomes even more pronounced, as he does not vibratethe second and fourth beats of mm.15 and 16. His accelerando begins only at the

Animato at m.15

Ma accelerates through m.11, but pulls back at m.12. He accelerates again through m.13and then somewhat more at the Animato. He also emphasizes the second note of the

groupings of two to an extent, mainly because certain notes are without vibrato andhence stand out to the listener, receiving undue emphasis. Ma also makes a very slow,



heavy slide into the fourth beat of m.13, and similar slides both ascending to anddescending from the A on the down-beat of m.15, creating a situation where the listener is more aware of the two slides than of the notes that they connected.

While some patterns do become clear from this method of describing these excepts,

there are also details which are impossible to fully describe. All the cellists studied hereaccelerate and ritard, slide, accent, crescendo and decrescendo, and otherwise shape the

phrase. The difference with Feuermann is really seen is in the timing, degree and extentto which these effects are used. Consider, for example, the performers use of rhythm.The performers accelerandi and ritardandi were measured here by beating as manysubdivisions of each note as possible, to get an accurate sense of the motion of the beat.With Feuermann, the beat accelerated and ritarded more from note to note than with anyof the other cellists, making it the most difficult to follow. And yet the magnitude of these variations, particularly the ritardandi, was nowhere near as great as withPiatigorsky, Rostropovich and Ma. The other cellists were much stricter rhythmically ona microscopic scale, but on a larger scale, they were more variable. It is difficult to

completely appreciate this difference in this general analysis.

Other issues which were difficult to fully describe include the degree of emphasis onnotes, and the subtle use of crescendi and decrescendi. The discussion of crescendi anddecrescendi here focuses on those either of broad scope or in highly exposed positions.But all the cellists make subtle natural decrescendos as they relax tension in a phraseand similarly subtle crescendos as the tension increases. What is different aboutFeuermann is the greater extent to which he does this, producing a more clearlydepicted rising and falling line. Also noticeable is the fact that those notes whichFeuermann emphasizes receive a clearer emphasis than the emphasized notes of theother cellists. Partly this stems from his immediate use of vibrato and preciselycoordinated attack between the two hands, but this also comes from the fact that he doesseem to give proportionally more emphasis to those notes which he chose to emphasize,and less to the notes where he did not intend emphasis, than the other cellists. Again,this small but crucial difference is almost impossible to fully account in this analysis.

Despite these limitations, certain patterns do become clear. The major difference between Feuermann and the other cellists, particularly the latter three, seems to be acertain simplicity of effect. It is not that he does not accelerate and ritard, crescendo anddecrescendo, slide and accent as the other cellists do, but with Feuermann, it is never done in such a way as to detract from the clear emphasis of the important notes of the

phrase. One can make the argument that the other cellists created what appears to beextraneous emphasis in seemingly unimportant places deliberately, because they personally saw these places as important and deserving emphasis. Certainly this must betrue in at least some cases. But it is also clear from microscopic examination that allthese cellists follow a certain underlying structure in their phrasing, and their generaladherence to this framework makes at least some of the unexpected emphases whichdetract from this structure, seem likely to be unintentional

In this general framework, which they all seem to follow to an extent, the relativeimportance of each note is influenced by: a) the relative melodic pitch, with higher notes receiving more stress than lower notes, b) the rhythmic placement of the note,

with the first beat receiving the most importance, the third beat next (in four), etc.... c)the composers dynamic indications, and d) the harmonic importance of the note. With a



combination of these factors a natural musical outline is formed. For example, consider the opening of the second theme:

(Dvorak makes only a general dynamic indication, so it isn't a factor in this case)

Combining these factors the notes that would have the greatest amount of emphasis are:

Whether one agrees with these principles or not, it is a framework that all five of thesecellists follow to some degree. Though none of them follows it exactly, the fact thatthey all stay within the broad outlines of this principle does make it hard to believe thatan isolated disruptive emphasis, from a crescendo, slide, unexpected rhythmic

placement or other source, is necessarily deliberate. It would be reassuring to believethat all the cellists discussed here controlled and created every detail of their

performance exactly as they chose to, but it is very difficult to believe that bow swells,notes without vibrato and irregular rhythms are performed by choice, rather than by alack of awareness, particularly when they do not recur consistently. While the specificimpact of these extraneous emphases may not be consciously realized, their overalleffect is to make the direction and focus of the phrase less clear. The difference with

Feuermann is that he makes his intended phrasing much clearer, and conscientiouslyavoids those things which would disrupt it.



Some of what we have described as 'disruptive' emphases and rhythmic alterations are,however, clearly deliberate, particularly in the cases of Rostropovich and Ma, and arethe result of a conscious decisions made by the cellists. These choices relate to what issometimes described as a 'sense of indulgence.' It is clear that adding additionalemphases and causing rhythmic ambiguity creates a greater level of complexity in the

rhythm and direction of the phrase, and hence a greater level of 'complication' (in theInformation Theory definition of the word.) To what extent this complication isconsidered aesthetically pleasing is a matter of taste, but clearly a greater degree of complication can not necessarily be equated with a greater degree of artistry. Consider an actor reciting the following line of Shakespeare: "To be or not to be. That is thequestion". A reading in a flat monotone would convey little meaning or emotion. Agood actor learns to emphasize certain words. Perhaps "To be or not to be. That is thequestion" or "To be or not to be. That is the question." or other such emphases andinflections. However if too much indulgence is taken it could become "To be ...or ...not to be. That ..i s the question" Such a reading would clearly sound ridiculous and overlydramatic, to the point of losing it's artistic effect, but it demonstrates that there is a limit

to the extent to which greater complication can make a sentence or, similarly, a phrasemore meaningful. In the theater they teach that 'not every word can be a revelation'. Soalso, not every note can be an expressive climax unto itself.

CONCLUSION

The goal of this comparison is not to say who is 'better' or 'worse' among the fivecellists, or, in fact, to draw any subjective conclusions at all. Instead, the goal is todescribe everything that can be clearly differentiated that Feuermann did differentlyfrom the other cellists. Although the description of small musical details with words issometimes impossible, several factors are clearly shown.

Feuermann definitely chose tempos much faster than his colleagues, both for faster andfor slower sections (though often Casals' tempos on the slow sections were similar.)Feuermann produced a clear beginning for each note, with the vibrato beginning exactlywith the start of the note and not slightly afterwards as with the other cellists. The

precise coordination of the left and right hands also contributed this extraordinarilyclear sounding of each note. Feuermann's vibrato was faster than that of the other cellists, of an average width and more consistent in application. Feuermann usedglissandi frequently to produce a sense of connection between notes, but they weregenerally fast and lightly emphasized. Whatever the degree of emphasis of these

glissandi, it was secondary to (though it also, in fact, helped to create) the emphasis of the arrival and departure note. Often only the highest part of the glissando was heard.

Feuermann made many small accelerandi and ritardandi during the course of a phrase, but these effects were never extreme and the overall rhythmic flow was rarely disturbed.Feuermann played with a clear and strong emphasis on those notes which he wishedemphasis, and very little on those he did not. He relaxed the tension in betweenemphasized notes, creating a clearer sense of rising and falling line. Feuermanninterpreted similarly to the other cellists, but avoided technical carelessness andinterpretive extremes which could distract from his musical line. One of his colleaguessummarized it thus "With the other cellists, I hear every note-every swell and gesture.

With Feuermann, I am only conscious of the line"



COMMENTARY

This comparison first appeared as if it ought to be simple. As trained musicians weassume that we are aware of, and can explain everything that we are hear and react to,

but it is amazing how difficult it is to find symbolism or terminology to describe all the

factors that comprise what is broadly labeled as 'interpretation'. It is more shocking stillto realize how little time or thought is generally put into the basic factors of phrasing-what we control, how we control it and whether it is desirable or not. By and large,teachers leave it to the student to provide whatever phrasing they are able to producenaturally, only correcting, after the fact, what strikes them as undesirable. We too rarelydiscuss how to read a piece of music and understand the natural phrasing structure, or the technique of producing what is beautiful and avoiding what is undesirable. Toooften we are satisfied only with producing the correct notes and rhythm, with most of the interpretive responsibility left to what comes 'naturally'. We allow ourselves toemote without turning a critical and analytical ear towards the results that are produced.

We entertain a mistaken impression that physically reacting to whatever we feelinternally at any given moment will automatically produce something which is beautifulto a listener. While phrasing will always be instinctual and to a degree improvisational,that intuition must be guided by an understanding of the principles that create musical

beauty, an ear trained to be aware of these details, and a command of the instrument thatwill allow a player achieve these goals. There is a shocking belief in some circles thatone can only worry about playing the 'correct notes and rhythm with a beautiful sound'since everything else is 'just a matter of taste'. The fact that musical tastes may vary isno excuse for leaving a student unequipped to control or discern the details of phrasing.

You could no more expect a beautifully interpreted performance from a student who isunaware of the details of interpretation than you could expect a moving reading of Shakespeare from a foreigner who knows how to pronounce the phonemes of theEnglish language but has no idea of the meaning of what he is saying. Theunrecognizable rhythm, swells and accentuation that such a reading would yield are, infact, analogous to the distorted rhythms and disruptive accents and swells that are

produced by musicians who are unaware of the principles of and unable to control thespecifics of phrasing. The results of this comparison point to an alarming direction incello playing. Many of the trends heard in today's 'modern' cellists, represented here byRostropovich and Ma, are foreign to the approaches of Casals and Feuermann. We aremoving in an alarming direction, and the tragedy is that it is by ignorance and

carelessness rather by choice.

Regardless of the readers opinion of Feuermann, Rostropovich, Casals or any of theothers, I hope that one will gain from this reading this chapter (as I have in writing it )not only the details of Feuermann's playing, but also a renewed awareness thatmeaningful interpretation requires acute detailed awareness of everything that we

produce on our instruments, and that interpretation is not only a means of self expression, but also a duty, to the composer and to the audience, to produce what iscorrect to the intentions of the music and most beautiful.

___________________________

1 This recording was masde in 12 takes in two separate sessions. The first in May, 1928 and the second in October, 1929.



2 In case of multiple recordings, timings were averaged. 3 Harvey Sachs, Rubinstein, A Life (New York: Grove Press, 1955) 4 Harris goldsmith, record Review 1998 (February 1987): 143 5 P. 141 6 For this discussion, the term “descending glissandi” will refer to those that descend melodically and “assending glissandi” to those thatascend melodically.

Chapter 3

An Analysis and Comparison of Feuermann'sPerformance Edition of the Schumann Concerto

INTRODUCTION

Feuermann made three commercial performance editions, the Schumann concerto [1],the Boccherini Adagio and Allegro from the Sonata No. 6 [2], and the Mozart concerto,formerly K. 314, transcribed for cello by George Szell [3]. In this chapter, we will

examine Feuermann's choice of fingerings and bowings. We will examine the type of fingering patterns chosen (e.g. 1 3 4 vs. 1 2 4, etc...), from which finger to which finger shifts are made and the placement of shifts -both in respect to the rhythmic structure andin respect to the overlying phrase. We will also examine Feuermann's use of slurs (i.e.does he slur notes under the same bow to a greater or lesser extent than the other editors?), his choice in the placement of up and down-bows, and his choice in the

placement of bow changes, both rhythmically and within the phrase.

As the objective is to understand what it is that Feuermann does differently from other cellists, and there are no other editions of the Mozart concerto transcription to comparewith, and the only readily available editions of the Boccherini are by Stutschewsky and

Forino, whose playing styles are less well known, we will focus our attention on theSchumann concerto, which has several performing editions created by well known

performers. We will compare Feuermann's edition with those of Stutschewsky, Roseand Schiff [4], representing three distinct generations of performers.

Certain basic assumptions are made in this discussion to follow: A change of bow between notes creates at least a small accent, compared to slurring the same notes.Similarly a change of position in the left hand, whether silent or with a glissando,creates some degree of emphasis on the arrival note. The type of sound and emphasiscreated by a shift varies depending on the type of shift, particularly depending onwhether the shift is from a higher finger to a lower, on the same finger, or from a lower

finger to a higher. With descending shifts, the type of hand motion required is the exactreverse of the ascending shift (i.e. 1-3 ascending is the mirror opposite of 3-1descending). Shifting to or from a harmonic, for which the string is not completelydepressed, eliminates some of the emphasis created by the shift and simplifies themechanics of the shifting. Shifting from an open string allows much more time for theshift since the hand can begin moving towards the destination note immediatelyfollowing the conclusion of the note prior to the open string. Extensions, in which thehand is stretched to reach a note without leaving its original position, do not necessarilycreate the emphasis that a change of position would. While most cellists do generallyattempt to minimize accents resulting from change of bow and left hand position, somedegree of emphasis is heard from all cellists.



Feuermann's editions of the Schumann and Boccherini are unique in their use of a "//"symbol to indicate a break or small separation. While it is interesting to noteFeuermann's placement of these symbols, we can not contrast it with what other editorsmight or might not have chosen, since no other edition uses this indication. Still, byobserving their placement in the complete editions (in appendix II), one can gain a

better understanding of Feuermann's desired use of separation, and from this, also someidea of his desired use of legato. Since an in depth analysis and comparison of thecomplete Schumann edition would become both repetitive and unwieldy, we willconcentrate on three excerpts, one from each movement: the opening through letter A(mm.5-34) in the first movement, the complete second movement (mm.282-319), and a

portion of the third movement from just before letter T until letter U (mm.630-668).

In order to better understand the musical perspective of the other three performanceeditions, it is useful to know something of the background of the editors.

Joachim Stutschewsky (1892-1982) was born in the Ukraine and studied with Julius

Klengel (who was also later Feuermann's teacher) from 1909-12, and then moved toVienna, where he was a member of the Kolisch quartet and in close association withSchoenberg, Berg and Webern. Following the Nazi occupation of Austria in 1938, heemigrated to Palestine, where he lived for the remainder of his life. He wrote a four volume work on cello technique and a history of cello playing, in addition to numerouscompositions, transcriptions and editions.

Leonard Rose (1918-1984) was born in Washington, D.C. and studied first with hiscousin Frank Miller in New York and then with Felix Salmond at the Curtis Institute.He later held posts as assistant principal cellist of the NBC Symphony and principalcellist of the Cleveland Orchestra and New York Philharmonic. In 1951 he left the NewYork Philharmonic post to pursue a solo career, which he continued for the remainder of his life. In addition, he taught actively at both Juilliard and Curtis and edited a large

portion of the cello repertoire for International Music. Most of these editions arecurrently still in print and in common use.

Heinrich Schiff (1951- ) was born in Gmunden, Austria and studied cello with TobiasKühne in Vienna, and then later Andre Navarra in Detmold. He won competitions inGeneva, Vienna and Warsaw and since has appeared as soloist with orchestras includingthe Vienna Philharmonic, The Concertgebouw and the Royal Philharmonic. He madehis U.S. debut in 1981 with the Cleveland Orchestra and Sir Colin Davis. He performs a

wide repertory of works including the Henze concerto, which was written for him andtwo concertos by Vieuxtamps, which he discovered. In addition to his performingcareer, Schiff is active as a conductor.

The approximate dates the editions were published are Stutschewsky's c.1940 [5],Feuermann's in 1939, Rose's in 1960 and Schiff's in 1995.

While some general trends can be seen from a comparison of these editions, certainlimitations should be kept in mind in such a comparison. Not every fingering indicationis present in any of the editions, creating places where several different fingeringalternatives might be plausible for that edition. In these cases, we will generally assume

the simplest or most 'obvious' fingering, as was most likely implied. Also, occasionallythe editors will give two choices for fingerings or bowings, making it unclear as to



which the editor would perform. In the Schumann editions, this is true only of theStutschewsky and Schiff editions, but Feuermann, too, gives alternative fingeringindications in his edition of the Mozart concerto.

Most importantly, these editions might sometimes represent the indications that these

performers would make for students studying the work, and this does not necessarilyimply that these were the fingerings and bowings which they themselves necessarilyused in performance or, even if they did, that they were consistent from performance to

performance. While Rose and Schiff have made commercial recordings of theSchumann, Feuermann was never able to do so, nor was Stutschewsky. It is clear fromthe interviews that Feuermann did mark his student's music with fingerings and

bowings, but many of the students also referred to his uncanny ability to play almostany different fingering or bowing and produce the same effect. Mosa Havivi speaks of Feuermann changing fingerings right before a performance. He also remembers writingdown Feuermann's bowings for the second movement of the Schumann during arehearsal, and he believes those bowings to be different from those in the published

Feuermann edition. The differences seen in these editions are important and revealing, but can not be considered to provide the complete or only account of the performers'choices of fingerings or bowings.

ANALYSIS

Since it is not practical or necessarily informative to discuss every single difference ineditions, we will discuss only what seems most meaningful, but the sections of eachedition discussed are reprinted here to provide a complete reference. The first sectionwe examine is the opening of the first movement (mm.5-34). (scores on pp.109-111)

In the first few measures, the editions are fairly homogeneous, with the only major difference in fingering coming from Stutschewsky's use of 1-1 or, alternately, 2-2 on thefirst two notes and suggesting 3-1 as one possibility for the descending eighths inmeasure 7. Only Schiff's bowing is different, suggesting that measure 7 be slurredentirely. In a footnote to the edition he explains that this slurring would be convenient if

one were taking Schumann's metronome marking of = 130, which is faster thantoday's



common performance practice, and he further suggests slurring mm.5-6 together in one bow. The first major difference in editions, however, comes with Feuermann's slurringof the last quarter of m. 8 into the next three beats of m.9, which the other editors beginwith a fresh down-bow and consequent accentuation. Feuermann's choice of bowing

produces slightly less accent both on the pickup to and down-beat of m.9. After this,Stutschewsky follows the same slurring as Feuermann until m.13, but with the reverse

bowing. Rose and Schiff, however, take the down-beat of m.13 on an up-bow, likeFeuermann, despite being reversed to him earlier. They achieve this by breaking theslurring of the eighth and triplets in m.11, though Schiff has an alternate version (againfor a quick tempo, he explains) in which he instead slurs the last two beats of m.11 intom.12. In m.13, all the editors but Stutschewsky separate the last beat from the preceding

note, but in the following septuplet an interesting divergence is seen. Feuermann placesthe bow change on the third beat D, the arrival point of the septuplets. Stutschewsky andRose place the change on the D, the second note of the septuplets. The accent thiscreates, in conjunction with the first note of the septuplets being tied to the previousnote, makes it seem as if the D is actually the start of a delayed group of sextuplets.Schiff places the up-bow on the last septuplet, Bb, but this seems as if it might be amisprint, since he changes, like Feuermann, on the note following the septuplets whenthe similar passage is played in m.18.

The only major difference in fingering in mm.9-14 is Feuermann's fingering of theeighth and triplet passage in m.11 on the D string. All the other cellists ascend on the A

string, which is much brighter but requires the shift to fall on the third triplet, whereaswith Feuermann's fingering it falls on the first triplet note, directly on the second beat.



Stutschewsky offers two slides from 2-2, in mm.11 and 13, which seem more prevalentin his fingerings than in the fingerings of the others .

Feuermann's fingering in m.15 is noticeably different from the others in his shifting to 4on the last eighth of m.15, eliminating the shift (and consequent emphasis) that the other

three make on the down-beat of m.16. Feuermann takes the last beat of m.18 and down- beat of m.19 on the D string, while Stutschewsky makes the large shift in order to playit on the A string. Schiff also suggests this approach in his footnotes, though hismarking is for the D string. In the eight notes that immediately follow, Feuermann (andStutschewsky) place the shift directly on the fourth beat and first beat of m.20 and make

both shifts 1-2, while Rose places them on the second half of the third beat of m.19 andthe down-beat of m.20, making 2-3 and then 1-2 shifts. Schiff shifts on the third beat (3-3) and then on the second half of the fourth beat of m.20 (1-3). Here again we seeFeuermann's greater concern for placing shifts on rhythmically strong beats.

Similar bowing patterns to mm.13-14 are seen in mm.17-18 of the editions, though

Stutschewsky now slurs the first three beats of m.18. Schiff now, like Feuermann,makes the bow change on the third beat at the top of the scale, while Rose still changeson the 2nd septuplet. In the last half of m.19, Schiff slurs the descending eighths whichthe other three play separately. In a footnote, Schiff explains that this slurringcorresponds to the original sources, but suggests a two note and two note hooked

bowing for the final two beats. The slurs create somewhat less emphasis on the eighthsthan the separate bowing would (or less emphasis only on the offbeat eighths in the caseof the alternative bowing.)

The next major bowing difference comes at m.22, where Feuermann (and Rose) slur theeight notes preceding m.23 into the down-beat eighth, presumably allowing the slightglissando that is implied in Feuermann's 3-3 fingering (Rose's fingering is unclear here).Stutschewsky and Schiff make the shift on the preceding eighth and take the down-beatof m.23 with a new bow, creating an entirely different type of emphasis. In m.24-26Rose diverges from Feuermann, making six bow changes in the course of these threemeasures to Feuermann's three. Schiff also makes one more bow change thanFeuermann, separating the last beat of m.25 from m.26.

Stutschewsky's prevalent use of same finger shifts is again evident in his 1-1 shift inmm.20-21 and 3-3 shift in m.23. The other interesting variances in fingering are Schiff'suse of 1-3 2 rather than 1-4 3 in the triplet on the last beat of m.23 (the reason for which

is unclear, since the fingering for the rest of the passage is not indicated) and Rose'schoice to shift 3-4 on the first beats on m.25 rather than to use the 3-2 extension used byFeuermann and the others. This creates a significant emphasis on the last beat andforces the following shift in m.26 to come on the second half of the first beat, rather than on the second beat, as with the others.

In the latter half of m.26, Feuermann's choice of fingering is unclear, as it is possiblethat last three eighths were intended to be played 1 3 1, moving to the D string, butmore likely that he intended 1 4 1 descending on the A string. In either case, onlyFeuermann does not shift position to play the F eighth after the A harmonic, andFeuermann's fingerings here make interesting use of repeated 1-4 patterns. In m.28,

Feuermann makes a 3-3 ascending shift (again seeming to imply some degree of glissando) as he did in m.23, while the others shift instead on the second eighth of the



second beat to 1 and then play the third beat in the same position with 3. In thedescending passage immediately following, Feuermann differs from the others indescending on the D string where they remain on the A and again Feuermann uses a 1-4-1-4 type of pattern. The motion produced by this type of pattern relates to MosaHavivi's description of Feuermann's 'rocking' hand motion for shifts. It is also

interesting to note Feuermann and Stutschewsky's use of 4 on the sforzando third beatof m.29, where Rose and Schiff use 2, requiring a much larger shift. Apparently Roseand Schiff feel that the fourth finger does not provide the necessary strength.

The bowings are similar between the editions in mm.26-27, though Stutschewsky andSchiff are the reverse of Feuermann and Rose. Thus Feuermann and Rose take the fp onthe third beat of m.27 on an up-bow, while Schiff and Stutschewsky take it on a down-

bow, though Schiff also proposes an alternate bowing in which he takes two extra bowsand makes a separate up-bow just on that fp. Schiff differs from the others in detachingthe first eighth of the third beat of m.28, but it is Feuermann's breaking of the followingfour notes into two slurs of two notes each that is unusual. The down-beat of m.30 is

marked down-bow in the Feuermann edition, which seems very unlikely if the later half of m.29 is also down-bow, as it would be one followed the marked bowings. It seemsthat either the indication for m.30 was a mistake or there is some missing bowingindication in the preceding measures.Feuermann's bowing for mm.30-31 is fairly straightforward, putting the bow changes inthe ascending scales on the new grouping of septuplets and of octuplets (i.e. the fourth

beat) [6] . Rose and Schiff bow similarly, while Stutschewsky changes on the secondnote of the ascending scale, immediately after the beat, creating emphasis on the secondnote of the septuplet group. Schiff also proposes an alternate bowing that makes two

bow changes in the ascending scale in m.31, which would produce more volume for thescale, but also an accent on the second note of the octuplets. In m.32, only Feuermanntakes the climactic fourth beat, marked with a sforzando, on an up-bow, and he thenslurs the second half of the first beat of m.33 into this up-bow, avoiding theaccentuation of the separate bow taken on this note by Rose and Schiff. Thisaccentuation is more pronounced due to the fact that the preceding down-beat is a tiedextension from the previous measure and is therefore not articulated.

The fingerings chosen by the cellists in mm.30-34 are similar, though in the last scale,where Feuermann's pattern is 1340 1240 124 124 123 (including the first note of m.32),Schiff instead chooses 1340 1240 124 13 123 3, avoiding an extension and creating anextra shift. The logic behind the choice is not immediately clear, unless Schiff desires a

glissando into the down-beat of m.30, which seems unlikely. Feuermann's use of 3-1 for the G#-F in the third beat of m.33 contrasts the less extended 4-1 fingering of Rose andSchiff, and Feuermann appears to be alone in his use of the open A string for the finalnote of this section in m.34.

The second section begins with the transition into the second movement and continuesto the end of the movement (mm. 282-319). (Scores on pp.118-120)

Feuermann chooses to shift 2-2 on the half step from the third to the fourth beat of m.283, while Stutschewsky and Rose shift 1-1 on the larger whole step interval betweenthe second and third beats, and Schiff shifts 2-1 between the third and fourth beats,

making an altogether different effect. Rose also makes a more complicated 2-3 shift between the third and fourth beats of m.282, while the others shift 3-3 between the



second and third beats. Feuermann's choice to begin m.289 on the D string, whereStutschewsky and Rose begin on the A (Schiff is unclear) allows Feuermann to have thecrescendo which is marked in the measure made somewhat automatically by the switchfrom the D string to the louder A string. The reverse is seen in m.293, however. HereFeuermann remains on the A string and does not avoid playing an open string on the

down-beat, while the other cellists all play on the D string. Also notable is Feuermann'suse of the fourth finger for the third beat of m.290, where Schiff uses 2 (Stutschewskyand Rose chose to play this note on the D string using 3). We see, again, thatFeuermann does not shy from using the fourth finger in highly stressed or importantmelodic notes, where most cellists would.

Pg69mus.tif

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The major difference in bowings in the opening measures of this section are Rose's bowchanges on the rhythmically weak fourth beat of m.283 and second note of the quarter note triplets in m.284. Feuermann, in contrast, changes on the third beat of m.283, whilethe others slur all five notes. Only Schiff's bowing differs from that of the others in thefollowing measures (mm.288-292). In m.292 he rejoins the pattern of the others, after

breaking the slur between the first two notes of the measure. In his notes, he suggestsconcealing this break with a small portamento glissando. The reason for Schiff's unusual

bowing pattern in these measures is not immediately clear, though it is interesting tonote the difference in emphasis that it creates, particularly in his choice to break m.289into a group of three followed by five, where the others divide into five and then three,allowing them to make the crescendo on one bow and the diminuendo on the other.



Feuermann's choice of fingering in m.296 allows him to play the entire measure usingonly very small, 'extension' type shifts, whereas Rose and Stutschewsky make moresubstantial 4-4 and 4-2 shifts, respectively. Schiff contrasts the others in m.298 bymaking the shift on the last 16th of the second beat, while the others change on the third

beat. In m.299 Feuermann slides 3-1 and the replaces 1 with 2 on the following note,

though the others simply slide 3-2 and then remain on 2. Feuermann's choice of thisfingering may have stemmed from his desire to make the descending slide on 3-1,which would allow him to make his typical 'rocking motion' shift with the left hand andthe typical small descending glissando, descending on 3 and only switching to 1 at thelast moment. He might also have desired the slight emphasis on the down-beat of m.300that the shift from 1 to 2 would provide. In m.302, Feuermann chooses a fingering usingan open string and a harmonic, allowing him to play the passage with no perceptibleshifts, whereas the others make at least two perceptible shifts in the measure. Inmm.303-308, Feuermann (and Rose) use 4 and 2 for the high double stops whileStutschewsky and Schiff use 3 and 1 and 3 and 2, respectively. Here, again, we see thatFeuermann does not avoid using the fourth finger on exposed notes requiring strong

melodic emphasis to the extent that other cellists do.

Feuermann's bowings diverge from the other editors in mm.302-307, where Feuermanngoes out of his way, by breaking the slur in the last half of m.302, to begin the doublestop passage in m.303 on a down-bow, where the others begin with an up-bow. Clearly,Feuermann felt here that the first slurred group of double stops required the stronger down-bow accent, and that the following group was more a consequent to the first. This

pattern is also repeated with the next two groups of double stops in mm.305-306. Incontrast, the reverse bowings of the other cellists places the emphasis more on thesecond and fourth groupings of double stops. Feuermann makes an extra bow change inthe second half of m.306, however, so that the C/A double stop in the second half of m.307 can again begin on a down-bow, as it did in m.305 and m.303 . Rose andStutschewsky also begin the second half of m.307 on a down-bow this time, unlike thefirst two times, while Schiff plays the second C/A double stop (in m.305) on a down-

bow, but the first and third (in mm.303 and 307) on up-bows.

In m.310, Feuermann again chooses a less complex fingering, remaining in half positionfor the last three beats and the down-beat of m.311, while the others all begin in first

position and then shift into half position in the course of the passage. Mm. 311-319follow very closely the pattern of the opening mm.286-293, which contain almost theidentical musical material, with the following exceptions: in the second half of m.311,

Feuermann again makes a 3-1 slide and then switches from 1 to 2 for the followingnote, as he did in m.299, but not in the first version, in m.286, where he makes a 3-2slide like the others (though Stutschewsky, in the first occurrence in m.286 only,actually makes the first slide 2-2). In m.316 Feuermann now fingers the down-beat with4, on the D string, but in the earlier corresponding m.291, Feuermann had used a 2,

presumably on the A string. Schiff changes the second half of m.315 to now play third beat F on the D string (as opposed to m.290 where he used 2, presumably on the Astring) meaning that in m.315, only Feuermann plays the F on the A string. Feuermanndoes not mark the glissando to the open A in m.315 that he marks in the earlier statement, however.

In comparison with Feuermann and Stutschewsky, Rose makes one additional bowchange during mm.308-310 and plays 309-310 with the reverse bowing. Schiff makes



two extra bow changes and breaks the slur over the last three beat of m.310, but then, incontrast to the others, slurs in the down-beat of m.311. Mm. 311-318 are bowedsimilarly to their earlier versions in mm.286-293 by all the cellists, until the differentmusical material in the second half of m.318. Whereas the other cellists slur the finaldotted quarter and eighth in the second half of m.318, Feuermann separates them, as he

also separated similar dotted quarter/eighth note patterns in mm. 302 and 306. In thiscase it could only be either that he wanted a separates articulation for the eighth note or that he preferred to play the final note of the movement, on the down-beat of m.319, onan up-bow with it's correspondingly lighter emphasis, whereas the other cellists all

preferred down-bow for the final note.

The final section is in the last movement, beginning just before letter T and continuingto letter U (mm.630-668). (Scores on pp.124-127)

The first difference seen in Feuermann's choice of fingering is in the latter half of m.632, where Feuermann chooses the extension fingering 1-2-4 , but Stutschewsky and

Rose make the 1-1 4 shift (Schiff does not indicate which way it is to be played). On thedown-beat of m.633, and also on the last 16th of m.637, Feuermann uses the fourthfinger,



whereas Schiff uses 3 for m.633 and Schiff and Rose both use 2 for the last 16th of m.637. Here we again see Schiff and Rose making larger shifts to avoid playing thefourth finger, while Feuermann prefers to play the fourth finger and make the smaller

shift. In mm.644-646, Feuermann uses a basic first position fingering with extensions(as does Stutschewsky) while Rose and Schiff use a third position fingering requiringless extension.

Only the Rose bowings differ significantly in mm.630-647, with Rose making four consecutive down-bows in mm.638-642 and hooking the dotted eighth/sixteenth notefigures in mm.635 and 642-647. Aside from this, and Schiff's non-slurring of the firsttwo 16ths on the first and third beats of m.665, all the editors bowings are similar. Infact, apart from these small exceptions, the editors bowings agree throughout this entireexcerpt, which may speak more to the limited practical bowing options that areavailable for this rapid repetitive passage work than to the editors' uniformity in bowing

philosophy.



Feuermann plays mm.647-648 in a single thumb position without shifting, switching tothe D string for most of m.648, while the others choose to remain in more traditional

positions on the A string, shifting as necessary. In m.650, Feuermann (andStutschewsky) take a fairly simple fingering, making only one shift on the fourth beat.Rose makes a shift on the second sixteenth of the third beat, and then requires another

shift to the down-beat of m.651. Schiff plays an open D instead of fourth finger on thesecond 16th, and then moves from the open D to 1st finger on the C#. While thissomewhat larger shift is simplified by moving from the open string, it does seem toagain represent a certain preference of Schiff's to make larger shifts in order to playnotes with the first or second finger rather than the third or fourth. In m.652, Feuermannmakes three small shifts on each of the first three beats while the others make twosomewhat larger shifts on the weak halves of the first and third beat. In m.656, Rose(and also Schiff apparently) remain in the same position. While this alleviates the needfor a shift in this measure, it creates a very large shift from thumb to 2 on the down-beatof the next measure. Stutschewsky avoids the thumb position altogether, making twoshifts and then playing the down-beat of m.657 on the G string. Feuermann, however,

avoids Stutschewsky's first shift by using the thumb, and then shifts on the fourth beatso that he can also play the following down-beat in the same position on the G string.Furthermore, he simplifies the execution of this slide by playing a harmonic on the

preceding note. Feuermann thus avoids the large and potentially difficult shift of theRose and Schiff editions, but also avoids the extra shift of Stutschewsky's fingering.

While Feuermann's fingering indication in m.659 is clearly different from that of theother editors, it is not sufficiently marked to allow certainty as to which fingering isimplied. The similarity between the editions in the next several measures is quitestriking, though we again can not be certain of Feuermann's fingerings for the octaveswithout an indication. Only in m.667 do they editions diverge. Here the Feuermann andStutschewsky editions have a different note on the second 16th note -E instead of F#.This necessitates a different fingering, naturally, and in the subsequent notes,Feuermann and Schiff then choose the extension fingering 1-4 for the fourth and fifth16th notes of the measure, while Rose and Stutschewsky shift into half position.

CONCLUSIONS

From this analysis many intriguing differences can be seen. Feuermann seems to tend touse smaller shifts and extensions where the others might make a larger shift. He tends tomake fewer shifts and seems to prefer shifting on smaller intervals, particularly half

steps. Feuermann also, to a somewhat greater extent than the others, createsopportunities to simplify shifts by shifting from an open string. In addition he often usesharmonics to simplify the shifting process.

Feuermann seems to take care to avoid shifting on notes where the accent created would be disruptive to the phrase, such as notes falling on the weak halves of beats or passingtones with small rhythmic values. Schiff and Rose often choose larger shifts in order to

play exposed melodic notes with the first or second finger, whereas Feuermann (and toan extent Stutschewsky) are much less hesitant to play these notes with the third or fourth finger. Feuermann also does not avoid playing the open strings, particularly the Astring, in exposed melodic situations to the same extent as the other editors. It also

seems that Feuermann tends to stick with 'pattern' fingering in scale passages, i.e. 124124 124 where another might finger 124 12 123 etc...



Feuermann seems to prefer to use slides which move from one half of the hand to theother, i.e. from 1 or 2 to 3 or 4, or vice versa. In particular, he often uses 3-1 for adescending slide (which is also associated with his typical small descending glissando.)The 1-4 ascending shift is another example of this favored type of shift. In general, of the possible shifting combinations, his preferences seem to run towards 1-3, 1-4, 2-1, 4-

1 and 4-3 ascending and 1-2, 1-4, 3-1 and 3-2 descending. The 'rocking' motion of theleft hand used to produce these shifts is similar (though reversed) between some of thefavored ascending and descending shifts. For example, 1-3 ascending is in many waysessentially the mirror image of 3-1 descending, and many of his favored ascending anddescending shifts are linked in this symmetry. Feuermann rarely makes ascending shiftsinto 2nd finger and also rarely into fourth finger, except 1-4 , which is fairly common.

With descending shifts, shifting into second finger is common, while shifts into fourthfinger most often originate from the first finger. Descending shifts into the first finger are often done from third or fourth finger, and descending shifts into third finger aremore rare, except when shifting 3-3 on the same finger. Feuermann also uses other same

finger shifts, and uses the 1-1 ascending shift frequently, though rarely descending, anduses the 4-4 shift descending, though rarely ascending. The 2-2 shift is occasionallyused, and the 3-3 is somewhat more common, both ascending and descending.

The other cellists often have similar preferences, but there are some differences. Allthree make more use of the 1-2 ascending shift than Feuermann, often for smaller,'extension' type shifts, and they make less use of the ascending 1-4 shift. Stutschewskyis also notable for his heavy usage of the 2-2 ascending shift, which the others use muchless. Stutschewsky and Schiff also make common use of the 2-2 descending shift, whichRose and Feuermann tend to avoid. All the cellists use the 3-1 descending shift often,

but Stutschewsky also makes heavy use of 3-2 descending, which Feuermann an Schiff use more moderately and Rose uses very rarely. Schiff makes use of 3-4 descendingshifts more often than the others, and tends to avoid the 4-4 descending shift that theothers employ.

With respect to bowings, it is somewhat more difficult generalize about whatdistinguishes Feuermann's bowings from those of the other editors. Most importantly,Feuermann avoids bow changes on notes where the resulting accentuation would disturbthe phrase, such as rhythmically weak or melodically inconsequential notes. He alsoseems to have had much less hesitation to play a heavily accented or climactic note onan up-bow and, along the same lines, felt less compulsion to always begin or end

phrases with a down-bow. If one were to calculate the total number of bow changes in asection of these four editions, Stutschewsky would be seen to make the fewest and Rosethe most, with Schiff closer to Stutschewsky and Feuermann closer to Rose, but thisdoes not really yield a clear picture of the nature of these bowings. The details musttruly be examined section by section, case by case, to be understood.

In the excerpts presented here it is probably Stutschewsky's choice of slurring that isclosest to Feuermann's, though interestingly he sometimes played these identicalslurrings with the reversed bowing (i.e. up-bow instead of down-bow) and hesometimes made longer slurs than Feuermann. The Rose edition generally seems to optfor more frequent breaks in the slurring in comparison to the Feuermann edition, while

the Schiff edition seemed to be this most radically different in terms of general bowing



and slurring preferences, but there is also much which the four editions have incommon.

Overall the distinguishing characteristics of Feuermann's editions seem to be asomewhat simpler approach with regard to fingering, opting for more extensions and

small shifts and fewer larger shifts, and an overall concern that shifts and bow changesnot disturb a phrase by placing accentuations on notes which are rhythmically weak or otherwise lesser emphasized within the phrase. The simplicity and care to avoiddisturbing the phrase which Feuermann shows in his performing editions arecharacteristics that are also very evident in his playing.

_________________

1 Robert Schumann, Concerto in A minor for ‘cello. Op. 129, ed. E. Feuermann (New York: Carl Fischer, 1939) 2 Luigi Boccherini, “ Adagio and Allegro” from the Sonata No. 6 in A major , ed. E. Feuermann (New York: Carl Fischer, 1938) 3 W.A. Mozart, Concerto in D major, K.285d (formerly 314), trans. By G. Szell, ed. E. Feuermann (New York: G. Schirmer, 1941) 4 Robert Schumann, Concerto in A minor for ‘cello. Op. 129, ed. J. Stutschewsky (New York: International Music Company, c. 1940) Robert Schumann, Concerto in A minor for ‘cello. Op. 129, ed. L. Rose (New York: International Music Company, 1960) Robert Schumann, Concerto in A minor for ‘cello. Op. 129, ed. J. Draheim, solo part ed. H. Schiff (Leipzig: Breitkoph & Hartel, 1995) 5 Dates for this edition have not been located. 1940 represents a best guess, based on dates of other Stutschewsky editions. 6 Mosa Havivi remembers Feuermann playing this scale in a single bow in performance (p.133)

Chapter 4

An Analysis and Comparison of Feuermann's Filmed Performance

INTRODUCTION

Only one film of Emanuel Feuermann playing the cello is known to exist. Made between 1939 and 1940 for Artists Films, it is a short film, of approximately seven anda half minutes duration, in which Feuermann performs Dvorak's Rondo, Op. 94 andPopper's Spinning Song, Op. 55, #1, both with significant cuts. This film was producedas part of a series of educational films made for music appreciation classes in highschools and colleges, but was later combined with short films of other musicians tocreate a full length release entitled 'Adventure in Music' [1] . While Feuermann's film isunfortunately short, it does show his extraordinary abilities well, and provides aninvaluable view of him playing the cello, showing details of his physical technique thatcould otherwise never be known.

Since the objective of the study is to find those features which distinguish Feuermann'sapproach from that of other cellists, it is useful to illuminate these distinctions bycontrasting Feuermann's filmed performance with video performances of other cellists.We again consider Casals, Piatigorsky, Rostropovich and Ma, as they cover a broadspectrum of cello performance techniques and musical philosophies, and are the bestknown cellists of the century.

The particular performances used for this comparison include a film of Casals, of unknown origin, which appears to have been made in the late 40's or early 50's and

contains performances of two unidentified works and his own arrangement of the nativeCatalonian folk song, Song of the Birds. Piatigorsky's performances were taken from a



short film for which the original title and date are unavailable, but which has been re-released by Kultur on the videocassette entitled 'Heifetz/Piatigorsky'. Piatigorsky playsseveral short pieces in this film, which appears to date originally from the 1950's. TheRostropovich performance was viewed on a commercial videotape produced by Unitel,directed by Hugo Käch and copyright in 1976. On the video, Rostropovich performs the

Haydn C and D major concerti with the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields ensemble,which he also conducts. Ma's performance was taken from the 1993 Sony release'Dvorak in Prague: A Celebration', in which he performs Dvorak's Silent Woods, Op.68, No.5 with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Seiji Ozawa and severalother short works in conjunction with other artists.

There are some intrinsic limitations in this comparison, since it is impossible tocompare the cellists performing the exact same works, and it is not possible to view thecellists from any angle other than those provided in each video, and, hence, not possibleto view the cellists from exactly the same angle and distance. The comparison of thevideo taped performances does provide one advantage over live observation, however,

as the viewer can watch each action of the cellists in slow motion, fast motion, frame byframe, as a still picture, or at normal speed, and the segments can be replayed asnecessary until the viewer is satisfied with the detail of the observation.

The goal of this analysis is to note physical characteristics of Feuermann's techniquethat vary from those of the other cellists. Clearly there is much in the technical approachthat all the cellists have in common and it would serve little purpose to discuss the basictechniques which Feuermann and all the others perform in the same manner. Inaddition, not all of the detail in a performer's technical approach can be discerned fromobservation, even when viewed at the slowest possible speed.

The physical act of playing the cello is accomplished by muscles acting in response toinstructions from the players' brain. The technique of playing the cello is less abouttraining our muscles to move in patterns than it is training our brain to instruct thesemuscles in the correct manner. It is not always possible, merely by observing theexterior physical motions of a player, to know exactly by what technique heaccomplishes this motion. For example, when observing the shifting of the cellists,though differences are sometimes apparent, there are types of shifts in which the playersseem to have a different mechanism, judging by the sound produced, but in which nomajor physical dissimilarities are seen. In part, this phenomenon may be due to the factthat many of the factors which affect the sound are not clearly physically observable,

such as the amount of bow pressure and contact, the degree of left hand finger pressureand contact during shifts, and other similar small physical gradations which produceeffect on the cello but do not necessarily require a readily apparent motion.

In addition, each of these cellists is different in body size and proportion, and often atechnique of similar mechanism will look quite different when performed by another cellist with, for example, longer arms. The result of this is that not every characteristicwhich appears to be similar can necessarily be thought to be created by similar technique, and not all differences which are observable are necessarily the result of adiffering technique. Nevertheless, there are differences between the cellists which areclearly the result of differing technical approaches, and they provide an interesting

insight into their approaches.



The Feuermann video was produced in an unusual way, as the soundtrack was recordedseparately from the film (presumably before.) Feuermann's playing in the film, whilequite close, does not always agree exactly with the timing of the soundtrack, and certaincamera shots were clearly made separately from the performance. In addition, in at leastone section, in the Dvorak Rondo, a passage which is clearly heard to be played on the

A string in the soundtrack is fingered on the D string by Feuermann on the film. Some previous commentators on this film have blamed the occasional minor timingdifferences on the soundtrack being improperly aligned with the film, but this seems notto be the entire story, as the synchronization is accurate in other sections. Despite thesecomplications, Feuermann clearly is playing the instrument as if in concert during thefilming, so despite their inconvenience, these problems do not seriously detract from thevalue of the film as an insight into Feuermann's playing style. It is also interesting tokeep in mind Eva Feuermann Lehnsen's remark that, since her husband was made toremove his glasses during the filming and discouraged from his habit of sucking in hischeeks when he played, that he looks almost like 'a stranger' to her in the video.

The Casals tape appears to be taken from a live concert, while the Piatigorsky,Rostropovich and Ma tapes were professional productions, presumably made in amanner which is often typical for video recordings and 'live' performance recordings:The soundtrack and multiple video tracks are recorded at the same time in the original

production and then any mistakes are corrected later by splicing onto that soundtrack.

We divide the comparison and analysis into three broad sections: The overall body position, including the head, legs and torso, the right hand and arm (bowing technique)and the left hand and arm (fingering technique).

OVERALL BODY POSITION

One of the first and most noticeable differences between the cellists is the differingheights at which they adjust their endpins, which consequently produces differingangles at which the cello intersects the torso and differing locations of the cello neck and scroll relative to the cellists head. Additional variables include the distinct bodysizes of the performers and the slightly different proportions of the five differentinstruments. Feuermann's cello appears to make an angle of approximately 35° with historso [2], with the end of the fingerboard slightly forward of and a few inches below hisear. Casals has the cello slightly more horizontal, making approximately a 45° anglewith his torso, and the top end of the fingerboard and scroll are further back and much

higher than with Feuermann. Piatigorsky holds the cello at about 40°, and the top of thecello falls somewhat higher than with Feuermann and somewhat lower than with Casals, but here one must also consider Piatigorsky's extreme height. Rostropovich holds thecello much more horizontally than any of the other cellists, at about 55°, and employs aspecial bent endpin to do so. The scroll is a little higher and further back in comparisonto Feuermann. For Ma, the angle of the cello is average, about 43°, but the cello is heldmuch further forward relative to his body, meaning that the cello seems to intersect historso somewhat lower on his chest, and the scroll is much further forward thanFeuermann's.

If the cello is assumed to be directly straight in front of the observer, than Feuermann's

body is angled to the right (the observers left) about 35°, allowing him easy access tothe entire cello with his bow arm. Almost all cellists turn in this manner, but the



difference is in the degree. Casals makes a similar degree of turn as Feuermann, whilePiatigorsky seems to make even slightly more so, but Rostropovich and Ma make amuch smaller adjustment, making only a slight turn of the body. While Feuermann andCasals hold the cello so that it is perpendicular to the horizon (i.e. the image of the celloonto the two dimensional screen is vertical, when viewed from directly in front of the

cello), Piatigorsky holds it in a manner that it is angled slightly, with the endpin slightlyto the observers' lower left and the scroll to the observers' upper right. Rostropovich andMa angle the cello in this way to a much greater extent, possibly necessary because of the smaller angle at which their torsos are turned to their celli.

Feuermann's' legs are positioned with his right leg forward and his left leg further back,a natural consequence of the angle of his torso to the instrument. The right knee holdsthe cello below the bout and the left touches the edge of the other bout in the fairlystandard manner, and his lower legs are straight down, with the feet placed flat on thefloor, though the left heel does raise once or twice in the film, when Feuermann rocksslightly to his right. Casals positioning of his legs and feet is similar, though he rocks

his body somewhat more. Piatigorsky, because of his much longer legs, must angle hislower legs backwards but, as with Casals and Feuermann, the right leg and foot are infront of the left. Because of the much higher horizontal angle of Rostropovich's cello,his knees intersect the bouts much closer to the back of the cello. His legs angle back,though not because of their length as with Piatigorsky, and because of the smaller degree that he turns his torso, his feet are almost even behind the cello. Ma's legs arealso angled back and again, because of his smaller turn towards the instrument, are alsofairly even behind the cello.

Regardless of the angles of their torsos, all the cellists' heads face directly forward.Casals, Piatigorsky and Rostropovich make only occasional, limited motions with their heads, while Feuermann makes almost no motion at all, staring straight ahead in amanner that seems almost eerily disconnected. Given Eva Feuermann's comments andother photographs taken of him in performance, in which his face and head appear lessrigid, this is presumably mainly an affectation for the camera, but the mere fact that hewas capable of playing in this manner shows a high degree of ability to disassociate hisneck and facial muscles from the mechanics of the lower body, and it seems likely thathe did play with less head and facial motion than the other cellists. This idea is further reinforced by a famous photograph of Feuermann rehearsing with Heifetz andRubinstein, in which he has a cigarette dangling from his mouth while playing. This feat(more difficult than one might think) requires a high degree a relaxation in the facial

muscles and hence implies no sympathetic facial or neck muscle contractions while playing.

Ma provides an extreme contrast to the others, as he moves his head almost constantly, but it often seems to be more by choice than from involuntary sympathetic musclecontractions. Regardless of any judgments on the desirability of this type of affectation,this much larger degree of movement (which is typical of many contemporary players,not only Ma) brings to mind Sophie Feuermann's quoting of Isaac Stern's comment thatwith modern players "What they can't get out of their instruments, they attempt to getout of their bodies" [3]

RIGHT ARM AND BOWING



Feuermann's right arm is held in a fairly simple manner. Neither the elbow or wrist israised, so there is the impression of a straight, smooth descending line. It may be thathis shoulder is slightly raised, facilitating the relatively natural position of the wrist andelbow, but it is impossible to be sure from the film. Feuermann's arm is bent at theelbow, as is typical for cellists, but Feuermann maintains this bend throughout the bow,

almost never allowing the arm to fully straighten. His wrist raises up and down duringthe course of up and down-bows, respectively. While the wrist rises graduallythroughout the course of the up-bow, it often lowers immediately with the start of thedown-bow. This raising and lowering of the wrist is active and noticeable, but never looks unnatural or extreme.

Casals' somewhat shorter bow arm looks quite similar in its general appearance, butstraightens when Casals plays in the upper part of the bow. His elbow seems as if itmight be slightly lower than Feuermann's and, while his wrist similarly rises up anddown during the course of up and down-bows, the movement is somewhat larger thanwith Feuermann. With Casals, the wrist movement is always after the bow change,

during the course of the bow, and not directly on the down-bow change as was often thecase with Feuermann.

Piatigorsky's longer arms necessitate more of a bend in his elbow, and the elbow seemsslightly lower than Feuermann's, consequently making the wrist seem higher. Whether this is the result of Piatigorsky's shoulder also being slightly lower, as it seems it might,is impossible to say with certainty. Like Casals, Piatigorsky's bowing divides the armmotion in two parts, with the upper regions of the bow played by unbending the elbowand allowing the arm to become straighter. In his up-bow, his elbow dips slightly andhis wrist raises, and the overall impression is that his bowing contains more wristmotion than Feuermann's. On his down-bow changes a type of 'kick' is sometimes seen,where the wrist moves first, pulling the fingers after it and momentarily changing their angle on position on the bow. While Feuermann also had a quick wrist motion, hisfingers never changed their position holding the bow.

Rostropovich's arm position is, of course, affected by the higher angle of his cello,which means that his arm has less vertical distance in which to descend. Consequentlyhis elbow is lower with respect to the rest of his arm than Feuermann's and, in fact, hisentire arm seems somewhat lower and much more horizontal. His wrist seems almostlevel, with his hand lying in the same horizontal plane as his forearm. UnlikeFeuermann, Rostropovich straightens his arm during the course of bowing, as do Casals

and Piatigorsky. While his wrist does raise and lower during the course of the bow, it begins in a very flattened position, so by the time he reaches the tip of the bow, his wristhas lowered so much that it is almost at a lower level than his fingers. His bow changeinvolves a similar, but much larger, 'kick', than was described with Piatigorsky, withRostropovich's entire hand and fingers jerking backwards on the change to a down-bow.This could possibly be an indication that he holds the bow rather loosely with thefingers.

Though Ma's shoulder seems somewhat lower than Feuermann's, his elbow seemsrelatively higher and his body position, holding the cello further forward, necessitateshis whole arm being somewhat higher. His wrist is held high, and lowers only at the tip

of the bow, returning to a high position during the up-bow more quickly than withFeuermann. His basic arm motion is strongly in two parts, with a larger portion of the



bow played by straightening forearm than with the Piatigorsky, Casals or Rostropovich.With Ma, the 'kick' of the bow change, causing the fingers to reposition is evident notonly on the down-bows, but also sometimes on the up-bows.

Feuermann's hand position on the bow remains quite constant throughout the course of

he bow. His fingers descend almost directly downwards, with relatively small bends inthe knuckles. The hand is turned slightly forward, though often the fingers are quiteclose to vertical. The first finger [4] is the most curved and also leans forward the most,curling just slightly under the stick below the lowest joint, where it intersects the bow.Separated from the first by a small gap, the second finger is only slightly curled, and itstip reaches just above the hair at, or just slightly forward of, the metal where the hair

joins the frog of the bow. The third finger is straighter, almost touching the second andreaching slightly lower, to the bottom of the frog. The fourth finger is slightly moreseparated from the third than the second and third are from each other, and is muchhigher on the frog, with the tip near the intersection of the stick and the frog. The third,and especially the fourth fingers, seem to contact the frog more lightly than the first

two, and the strongest contact seems to come from the first finger. The fourth finger occasionally lifts from the bow, particularly in staccato and spiccato passages. Mostsurprising, Feuermann's thumb is straight, almost bending inward as it pushes againstthe frog. This unorthodox method is in direct contradiction with the technique of almostevery modern cellist (with the notable exception of Zara Nelsova.)

Casals bow grip is more variable, changing more during the course of the bowing. Theangle of his fingers with his hand is less, as his fingers more rounded. Compared toFeuermann, his somewhat shorter fingers are more tightly bunched as a group and areslightly lower on the bow and frog. The hand is somewhat less turned towards the tipthan Feuermann's, and the bow is held slightly further forward on the frog. His fourthfinger occasionally loses contact with the stick, but so also do the second and third atdifferent times, and the overall impression is of a greater degree of movement in thehand and finger positions during the bowing.

Piatigorsky's hand is angled very forward towards the tip, and his grip on the bow isalso further forward, with the third finger on the metal of the frog. His fingers areslightly more rounded and hence the angle of the first segment of the finger to the handis slightly flatter than with Feuermann. As mentioned, Piatigorsky's fingers brieflychange position on the down-bow change, as if the wrist were dragging the fingers

backwards, changing their angle and grip on the bow. The original position is quickly

regained, however.

Rostropovich's hand position is radically different from Feuermann's, probably resultingin part from the high angle of his cello. With the strings and consequently the bow at amuch higher level, the first joints of Rostropovich's fingers are almost flat with thehand, which is in turn flat with the wrist. The overall effect appears almost as if the armwere hanging on the bow, which seems as if it might be advantageous for applying alarge amount of downward pressure to the bow, but seems also to be potentially morerestrictive of movement. Rostropovich grips the bow with his fingers bunched together,directly vertical. The grip is forward on the bow, with the third finger near the metal,

but the fingers are quite low, so the tip of the third finger is actually below the frog. It

looks as if the fingers might grip the bow loosely, since the fingers move a great dealduring bow changes, jerking backwards during down-bow changes to a much greater



degree than with Piatigorsky and returning to their original positions more slowly. Aswith the other cellists, the fourth finger occasionally loses contact with the stick.

Ma's fingers are also quite rounded in his bow grip in comparison with Feuermann's,and hence the upper segment of his fingers are more level with his hand. He grips the

bow with the third finger on the metal, further forward on the frog than Feuermann, andalso grips it somewhat higher on the frog. There are relatively large gaps between hisfirst and second fingers and between his third and fourth fingers, and his fingers change

position and readjust frequently during the course of bowing. His fingers tend to curlduring the down-bow, changing the relative angles of the hand and wrist, and 'jump' on

both up and down-bow changes, changing position on the frog. Like the others, hisfourth finger occasionally loses contact with the stick.

Other aspects of bowing technique, such as bow angles and bow distribution, are notdiscussed here as either the cellists techniques seemed generally similar or thedifferences were not easily detectable. Despite this elaboration of their technical

differences, there is also much in their right arm technique that all these cellists share incommon. The factors which seem to clearly differentiate Feuermann, however, are hisuse of the arm as a 'single unit' -not straightening the arm in the upper half of the bow,his less extreme movement of the wrist up and down, the fact that he does not allow hisfingers to change position on the bow in reaction to the movement of the wrist duringthe bow changes -in particular, down-bow changes, his hand position -slightly further

back on the bow, with his second finger on the metal where the others generally placetheir third, and his straight thumb .

LEFT HAND AND ARM

The position of the cellists' left arms is influenced not only by the length of their respective arms, but by the height of their cellos. The left arm must naturally be heldsomewhat higher by all the cellists when they move into thumb position. Feuermannholds his arm at an approximate 45° degree angle down from horizontal in the lower

positions, moving to about a 35° angle in thumb position. His wrist is slightly bent in(downward) in the lower positions, creating an angle rather than a straight line betweenthe forearm and hand. Casals must hold his arm somewhat higher than Feuermann inthumb position, as his arm is shorter and his cello slightly higher. In addition, his wristis somewhat less bent in the lower positions. Piatigorsky's longer arm is held somewhathigher, and his wrist is straight in the lower positions, and Rostropovich's arm is held in

a similar manner, with very little bending of the wrist, higher than Feuermann's. Inthumb position, because of the much higher angle of his cello, Rostropovich's arm isvirtually horizontal. Ma's overall arm position is also similar, but because he holds thecello more forward and his arms are shorter than Feuermann's, his arm is also morehorizontal in the thumb positions.

Feuermann's typical hand position is angled somewhat back towards the nut of thefingerboard in both the vertical and horizontal planes of the fingerboard, and thisangling is even more pronounced in the thumb positions. Feuermann's fourth finger occasionally is held away form the other fingers, off the side of the fingerboard andcurled, and his third finger sometimes extends straight, especially while held over the

fingerboard while the second finger plays. Often when playing the second finger, thethird will move together with the second as the second depresses and similarly, the



fourth will move with the third when it depresses. This is especially clear onFeuermann's trills, where the upper finger of the trill and its higher neighbor seem tomove as a unit. In thumb position, Feuermann's thumb bends back slightly, except when

playing octaves, and is held at a small distance from the other fingers. When his hand position is extended, Feuermann has larger gaps between his first and second fingers

and his third and fourth, and less space between his second and third.

A crucial difference between Feuermann and the other cellists is that he keeps the handextended only when required for the upcoming note or shift, and otherwise returns thehand to the 'natural' unextended position, with the fingers together and the hand angled

back (in the vertical plane of the fingerboard) towards the pegs. While many of thetechnical differences that we discuss here are relatively minor and often the result of different physical or instrumental setup rather than different technical methods, this isone clear example of a significant difference between the cellists. Feuermann's handonly extends just before certain shifts or before playing a rapid passage requiringextensions, and it is returned to the 'natural' position whenever possible.

Feuermann's fingers strike from high above the string, especially the third and fourthfinger, which are held high when the first finger is played in the 'natural' hand position,with the hand rotating on the axis of the first finger in the lower positions and the thumbin the higher positions. In the rapid fire fingering of the Elfentanz, the action of thefingers striking from above and then immediately rebounding seems almost like theaction of piano hammers. Interestingly, Suzette Forgues quotes Feuermann's philosophyof finger action using this same analogy [5]

Casals' fingers are more evenly spaced and somewhat less angled than Feuermann's, andhis extensions are more deliberate and held longer than Feuermann's, including theextensions that are involved in the preparation for certain types of shifts. Though Casals'natural finger spacing is somewhat wider and more evenly spaced than Feuermann's, hisleft hand technique looks the closest to Feuermann's of the four cellists used for comparison. Casals' fourth finger is lifted away from the fingerboard somewhat morefrequently than with Feuermann, and his first finger also lifts away occasionally.

Piatigorsky's large hand seems to be more rounded in the lower positions, with thethumb and fingers forming a circle, connecting at the fingerboard. In contrast,Feuermann appears to hold his thumb much straighter underneath the neck in the lower

positions and, at least part of the time, his thumb is actually bent backwards against the

neck of the cello. Piatigorsky's hand seems to have even more backwards angle(towards the top of the fingerboard, in the horizontal plane of the fingerboard) thanFeuermann's, almost taking the appearance of a violinist's hand position, but for Piatigorsky there is no 'natural' position to which the hand consistently returns. Insteadthere is a slightly different hand position for each finger as it plays, at least duringsustained notes. In thumb position, Piatigorsky's thumb is held closer to the other fingers than Feuermann's and is straighter. Like Casals, his fourth finger also sometimescomes away from the fingerboard, and his first finger also often lifts high above thefingerboard.

Rostropovich's hand seems perhaps slightly more angled back than Feuermann's, but

less so than Piatigorsky's and, as with Piatigorsky and Casals, there is no 'natural' position, but a somewhat different hand position for each finger. This difference is, of



course, mainly noticeable only on slow, sustained notes and it seems to relate to thevibrato motion, as we will discuss further. The one trait of Rostropovich's which isstrikingly distinct from Feuermann, Casals and Piatigorsky is that he occasionallyallows his fingers to collapse at the third (lowest) knuckle.

If Feuermann's hand positions appear to be the simplest, constantly using the same positions and motions, Ma's appear the most complicated. In the lower positions hishand is quite square (perpendicular) to the cello, but in the thumb positions it is verymuch angled backwards (towards the top of the cello.) The thumb is much looser in

both the upper and lower positions, frequently coming out from behind the neck or evenoff the fingerboard in thumb positions. Ma's fingers collapse in the same manner asRostropovich's, but much more frequently, and his hand position seems to changefrequently, with different fingers lifting above the rest and fingers alternately spacedapart or bunched very tightly, the second actually overlapping on top of the first in someinstances.

While the cellists hand positions demonstrate a variety of approaches, the differenceswhich are most noticeable and significant seem to stem from the cellists different

physical approach to vibrato. Feuermann's vibrato seems very much produced by a'whole hand' motion. While the fingers besides the one stopping the string are raised off the string, they come up only slightly and remain close to each other in the 'natural'Feuermann hand position. When Feuermann vibrates in thumb position, the thumb isnot pressed down into the string but remains on top of the string, making light contact.

With Casals and Piatigorsky, one is much more aware of the individual fingers in thevibrato motion, as the other fingers are sometimes lifted away, and the appearance isthat the vibrato is produced more by moving a particular finger than by moving the handas a unit. For example, when Piatigorsky vibrates on the second or third finger, he tendsto lift the first finger quite high and vibrates with a wide rocking motion, so that thehand 'teeter-totters' over the vibrated finger.

Rostropovich's vibrato is visibly wider than Feuermann's. When vibrating on the firstfinger, the second actually overlaps on top of the first, while the third and fourth areraised above, but when vibrating on the other fingers, it is really only the vibratingfinger which acts alone, while the others are often lifted quite high , even pointing awayfrom the hand in various directions. As noted before, Rostropovich occasionallycollapses his fingers at the lowest knuckle, which would naturally change the sound of

the vibrato being produced, and the large number of notes with no vibrato also lends asomewhat 'jerky' impression of the hand's movement when compared to the nearlyconstant vibrato motion of Feuermann.

Ma's vibrato motion is also visibly wider and can often be seen to start significantlyafter the note has begun to sound. Ma's hand position for the vibrato varies widely,depending on which finger is vibrated. When the first finger is vibrated, the other fingers are tightly bunched up above it, with the second finger overlapped on top of thefirst, but when vibrating the second and third fingers, the first and fourth are lifted high.When vibrating the fourth finger, all the other fingers are raised, with significantspacing between them. When vibrating in the lower positions, Ma's thumb can

sometimes be seen coming out from behind the neck, particularly in the fourth positionand, in all positions, his fingers are frequently collapsed at the third knuckle, more often



than Rostropovich's. In thumb position, the large backward angle of Ma's hand position(which contrasts with his nearly perpendicular position in the lower positions) creates avibrato motion that is almost more side to side on the string than up and down, and thiseffect is further increased when he raises the thumb away from the strings, as heoccasionally does in the thumb position, pointing it perpendicularly back from his hand

and upwards.

As with the right arm, other elements of the cellists motion that would seem interesting,such as shifting motion, were either too similar to merit discussion or impossible todiscern from the videotaped performances. The most striking feature of left handtechnique which distinguishes Feuermann is the simpler appearance of his motions,keeping the hand in a natural, unextended position whenever possible and vibratingalmost constantly in a motion which involves the whole hand. It would be inaccurate,however, to say that Feuermann's hand looks 'relaxed.' The most accurate descriptionwould probably be to say that his hand looked 'tight' but never awkward or strained.

Casals and Piatigorsky's motions look somewhat more complicated, with the hand moreoften stretched or extended, and the vibrato motion and hand position varying,depending on which finger was vibrated. Rostropovich's and, especially, Ma's handslook much more complex, as there is a frequent alternation between notes with widevibrato and notes with none, more extreme hand position changes, more lifting of theother fingers during vibrato on one particular finger, and periodic collapsing of thefingers. That this relative degree of complication in motion corresponds to these latter cellists' relatively more complex and sporadic interpretations (as detailed in the earlier comparison of recordings chapter) seems more than coincidental, particularly in thecase of the vibrato motion, which translates directly into an audible result. It is purelyspeculation, but it seems as if the wider, more complicated vibrato hand positions andmotions of Rostropovich and Ma may result from an attempt to increase the degree of musical intensity of a note by increasing the intensity of the actual physical motion.

CONCLUSION

The most striking differences between Feuermann and the other cellists are Feuermann'ssomewhat greater angling of the body to the right side of the cello, his rarelystraightening his right arm, his more constant right hand position on the bow -notmoving much even during bow changes, his holding the bow slightly further back

towards the frog, with the second finger near the metal band on the frog, and his straightthumb. With Feuermann's left hand, the major differences are his consistent vibratousage, usually produced with the hand in the 'natural' position, the fingers close but nottightly bunched, his never remaining in an extended position longer than necessary, andthe high striking action of his fingers, with much of the striking impulse seeming tocome from the arm rather than the individual finger.

This analysis actually only scratches the surface of what can be learned from thesefilms. Only the most obvious differences are discussed here -necessarily in broadgeneralities- and the comparisons must make many generalizations. The correspondence

between the physical motions of the cellists and their interpretive differences is most

noticeable in the case of vibrato, where the clearly observable physical motion directlytranslates into the sound produced, but what are also striking are the ways in which all



the cellists, whose playing is so different to the ear, seem to play similarly physically,with many of their differences explainable by their different body sizes and celloheights. As young cellists we are taught to play the cello by being instructed as to what

physical motions we should make -'put this finger here', 'move your shoulder so', 'shiftwith this type of motion'- and this type of instruction continues even into the highest

levels of conservatory training, with students consistently being given the impressionthat if they will only hold the bow in a certain way or shift with the same motion as their teacher, that all their problems will be solved.

While some physical techniques and motions clearly hinder a cellist, and correctingthem would obviously be beneficial, the fact that these five cellists produce suchdifferent results, using techniques that in many ways appear very similar, points out thelimitation in this approach. One can not start with the 'correct' physical motion andexpect, therefore, to produce good cello playing. If one starts, however, by attempting to

produce the desired sound and effect, the correct physical technique to do so willinevitably be discovered. How much of our learning is wasted by concentrating on

reproducing the methods by which another cellist achieves a result, instead of the actualresult? For this reason, we can not take those physical motions in Feuermann'stechnique which are different from the other cellists' and assume that they are theanswer to the question of how Feuermann played. The most significant differences inFeuermann's technique are the things that can be heard -the unique features of his

performance that we discussed in the comparison of recordings chapter.

While it has personally been helpful to me to emulate some of Feuermann's physicalmethods, and I hope that it will be for other readers as well, we must still remember Feuermann's teaching -his repeated rejection of Suzette Forgues' first notes of theHaydn concerto without ever explaining what was wrong, until she finally heard it for herself. The process of learning and correction must begin from the ears, rather than the

body. The most important thing that can be learned from studying Feuermann is nothow to merely imitate Feuermann, but how to listen and analyze as he did, and only byreaching this level of awareness can we begin to emulate his standards of technique andmusicianship, and finally allow the cello to realize its full potential.

_________________________________

1 Jon Samuels, “A Complete Discography of the Recordings of Emanuel Feuermann,” ARSC Journal 12, no. 1-3 (1980): p.67 2 Angle measurements are subject to the distortion of the visual recording and playback systems, and are therefore not absolutemeasurements, but given as a basis of comparison between the cellists. The actual angles should, however, be within a relatively small

margin of error from the playback measurements. 3 P. 145 4 Here we use the same numbering system as with the left-hand of the cello: index finger=first finger; pinky=fourth finger, etc. 5 P. 116

Chapter 5

InterviewsSuzette Forgues

Suzette Forgues Halasz studied with Feuermann from his arrival in America in 1938until his death in 1942, in both New York and California. She is married to the



conductor Laszlo Halasz, but is herein referred to by her maiden name for ease of reference.

Q: Nobody ever talks about how, or why, or the whole approach to the music...

A: The last when he was very sick, I was the last one to go to his house in Rye, but hewrote to his wife. He said "this has to stop. I'm too far away from everything, I'malways on tour, one after the other. I hear all these cellists and they don't knowanything-they're supposed to be top cellists-they're first cellists-they don't knowanything." He said "I think I have to stop this and I will teach". Now that would have

been great for everybody. He did teach for one year I think, at Curtis. I remember thathe had said, when I was I think 16 and I was in awe -I was playing on the radio littlethings just to make money and so on and I came directly to go hear him in the afternoonthere was called the Ladies Morning Musical club and he had been in the papers and Ithought 'Oh well I was auxiliary so that means you didn't pay as much because you wereyoung' -you could go and hear him. But I had the cello with me -I didn't know where to

leave it- so I was in the back and then I started listening to him and I never heard -andnot knowing so much about cello- I was too young in a way- but I was so fascinated thateven if I was shy I went in backstage, I waited. It was crowded, I waited and waited tillmy turn. Finally he sees me there with the cello says "So you're a cellist...would youlike to play for me". I almost dropped the cello and I said "well, yes, I would like to".He said "well why don't you come tomorrow at my hotel and you play for me" So Iwent home practically flying -I was so excited and I told my mother and she said "Nowdon't get so excited-these great people they forget things, they say things, you haven'tgot a chance probably" She didn't want me to be hurt. The next day comes, and of course she comes with me -she is my chaperone...and then I played the Tarantella-Popper. He stopped me -two bars or three bars and I was showing off. I thought I wasgood -you know- fast. And he said -he couldn't speak English too much and he said"You play like a pig" and I -my breath left me- and I thought 'Oh my goodness' youknow, and he said "I don't speak English good so that means -you know that a pig is notclean, right?" and I said "Yes of course." "You don't play clean. There is a difference

between your fourth and first finger in first position (of course I know that by now) thenin fourth [Sings opening of Popper Tarantella], so the interval is smaller because youare in fourth position." Nobody ever told me that. You think of fingerings and you golike mad and your teacher thinks you are great. You don't know anything. Then he saysto my mother after I played some more "Why isn't this child in Europe? She should bein Paris" ...My mother, she said "She's only 16 -it's not possible. She can not be there

alone" and all this. "Did these people hear her, where I played yesterday?" My mother said no. "Well why not?" "Well, Nobody asked her." He said " I will tell them to hear her. Then they will hear her and then they will give her a scholarship and then I willgive her a scholarship. She can come to New York". Well, you could open the floor, Iwould go right through it. I couldn't believe this, you know. Yes -the next day the ladiescall me- "Would you come and play for us?" So I played and I got $400, which in thosedays was a lot of money, of course. Then I got very excited and very happy. I come to

New York, he is not there. I didn't know what to do. So I heard that Felix Salmond wasa very fine teacher. I went to Juilliard and asked to play for him. I played but I had nomoney, because there was $30 a lesson and I had only $400. I want to be very careful.He said "All right...you can come to me but it will be an audition every time" So I didn't

have to pay, but he didn't want to say it that -you know. So for a few months, that's whatI did. Feuermann came back from Japan -somewhere- so obviously I went to play for



him and he said "What have you been doing?" "Well," I said "Mr. Feuermann, youweren't here, so I didn't know what to do. I went to play for Felix Salmond." "Youshould have stayed home and practiced. You would have done better." He didn't likehim. I was crushed, but I didn't know what to do. He said "Well, we'll see about that.You start coming next week" So that's how I started, and one thing led to another and

then I ran out of money, of course. I got another scholarship, came back again, ran outof money again. So the third scholarship -after that they told me "You can't try again

because you always win, it's not fair for the others" So Feuermann came to Canadaagain, so I told him I don't have the money to go back. "Don't worry about it. I'll writeto the government" -Oh I forgot to tell you- there was only one scholarship left and thatwas a government scholarship -everybody under 21 could try. Every year just only one.But it's not only for cellists-it's for everybody... And that's how I could get back to NewYork, you see. And then with Feuermann -I'm told by the Ohio Feuermann society that Iwas the only scholarship pupil, but I don't know how true that is- but anyway, the factthat I had the chance to play for him. You know he was my god, I mean he was thegreatest and the Feuermann pupils -I don't know about others, but if you'd play

somewhere, somebody was coming backstage and saying "You must be a Feuermann pupil. You play differently." I don't know what it was. They recognized it every time.So you know you sort of felt pretty smart. That on your shoulder you felt rather bigshot, but you tried very hard and he was a very difficult, demanding teacher. Hewould... I remember for one hour I had the three first notes of the second movement of Haydn [D major Concerto]. "No!" And you're scared so you try again. "No!" He wouldhit your bow. "No!" But he never told you how, so you try again. You try to think 'whatdoes he want?' and you try again. Finally he said "Go home and practice." After threenotes. I felt like going up on the Empire State, throwing the cello and jumping after it. Ifelt that bad. But then I woke up very angry with myself -if you can't take it, don't go.And I practiced and I practiced and I finally went there back again. He almost threw meout, because I was so scared and when I start my bow just jumped on the string. He said"Do it again." And I thought 'If I don't do it, I give up'. Then it went, and he said "So..."So why couldn't he explain it to me first? I wouldn't have gone into so much anxiety.But you know one thing? Since years and years, I know why. He made you think. Iremember one lesson in California. We had had lunch, I was sort of a favoredyoungsters and he said "Now it's time for a siesta." I said " I don't take siestas." "Youtake siesta. You go up a take a siesta." I mean you know you don't say no. Then after that I had the lesson he said " Now you go up in my other studio up there and you writeeverything I said, and don't come down until it's all there." So I...you know it was a longlesson and you had everything to write. He'd come and open so -"Well?" "No, I'm not

ready yet." And then I really worked over this and I wrote everything I could remember and it was OK with him, but then, again -he made me think. And I thought it was plaintorture in those days. I thought he was doing it out of meanness, because he was a verysarcastic man and if you couldn't take it you shouldn't be there. One day I came and Iwas the second one in the morning and there was a young man playing -first cellist, Idon't know where in San Francisco, but from there. And there was a lot of yelling fromFeuermann and I thought 'Ooh' you know, 'he's in a bad mood' and I sneaked in theentrance and he heard. He said "Suzette." I said "Yes." He said "Come in." I said"Maybe I should wait out here." "Come in" and I though I'd be embarrassing this fellowso I didn't want to. I went in and I sat in the back as far as the living room permitted andhe was continuing. He said "All you know is schmaltz, schmaltz, schmaltz! That's all

you know. If you come in the morning, you ruin my day. If you come in the evening,you ruin my night." He said "That's all you know, schmaltz" He said, "Get out of here!



Go back to San Francisco. Good enough for you. Get Out. Out, Out, Out!" Then heturned around and he said "Come. Play" and I thought 'after this?' But I'd been to goodschool. I had a teacher -Belgian- in Canada who was very difficult. When he wasyelling I thought the windows were shaking. Red with the white hair -I thought he'd dieof apoplexy...But that's the way it was. So I sit there and I didn't know what's coming to

me. He said "So. Can you schmaltz too?" I said "Of course, Mr. Feuermann, if that'swhat you wish" Then he sort of half-smiled and he said "All right. Play" ... It hurt verymuch when there was a group, because he was sarcastic. He was tense, and he'd do itnot out of meanness -because he was right in many ways- but he sort of made it difficultto accept, especially when you didn't play his way. And I remember one day -I don'tknow, but it wasn't my day and he was not happy with me and there were four other cellists, unfortunately, waiting for their turn and also and they didn't like that I get thishell from him and they'd understand everything, so I switched to French and heswitched to French -he didn't notice. And the others were stuck -they couldn't hear athing he said. Then there was [Jens Guslebas?] -and she became assistant 1st of Chicagoafterwards- and it was her turn. She was also rather tense. She didn't know what to

expect. No one ever did anyway. And she got into trouble too. He was showing off for the others. So she figured out a way -she spoke Dutch to him. To my amazement, heanswered in Dutch and he went on like this and here we were -we didn't understand athing what's going on. You see? It was very strange and if you were alone or if you werein very few people that was fine, but a larger gathering he became sarcastic. It wasdifficult to accept. I remember one thing. I was a very good ping-pong player in thosedays and I remember his sarcasm. One day I was having a lesson and Schuster -a celloteacher rather well known in those days -an older gentleman- came to visit and he said"Come, I want you to hear one of my pupils" and that was the opening of the BoellmanVariations, it's in the same bow and he wanted to show how I could do that and how fastI could trill -this sort of thing. He was, again, showing what his student could do. Andhe said "You know, she's very good... She's a very good ping-pong player ." ...So oneday he said "Heifetz plays fantastic" he said "plays fantastic ping-pong. You teach me."He said "After the lesson, we go to the ping-pong table. You teach me how do yousmash these balls?" And I remember that I being so excitable person, when I played for him he said "Don't get so excited. Wait. Wait before the glissando. You're too excited.Just wait." All right. So one day, he wanted to smash a ball and I said "All right, Mr.Feuermann, this is you turn your body this way." and I was showing how to do it andthen it hits the corner. "I know, I know, I know" he says. He wants to try. "Fine. I willthrow you a very easy one and you just turn and do this." So I do that and he hits the

ball at full speed in the net, of course and I couldn't help it -it was the first time that I

did this- I said "Tch,tch,tch Mr. Feuermann, you mustn't get so excited. You must wait before you hit the ball" He chased me out of the house all the way down to my place.We had a great time. It was the best summer I ever, ever had in my life because of him.

Q: That was in California?

A: Everybody went to California, I mean the ones he accepted. But there was BobbyLaMarchina...Fantastic youngster. He was the youngest. We were in awe how he

played. Really very well...

Q: What were the things he would most often criticize in lessons?

A: Bow and finger together.



Q: The coordination?

A: It has to be coordinated. It has to be synchronized. He didn't have words to explainso he made you search for everything, which I think in a way was hard, but as you

became a teacher, you're able to think more and I've that big mirror downstairs

and...when I had a chance to play by myself I'd watch and say 'Why does this sound sogood? What am I doing?' I do it over again -'ahh' and I'd find out. Then I would be ableto translate what I did to the next student. And I sort of learned by myself what to dowith what he wanted and what he expected, because it had to be his way. When you didvery well, you know, his left hand -he never knew and I never told him- his left handwould start to vibrato on his thigh and I would think 'Oh, he really likes it. This is whathe wants', so you felt wonderful. In those days you flew out of there and you could beon a cloud of happiness. But he was very demanding and he wouldn't let one thing go

by. The shifts had to be perfect. Again, the bow and the movement of the body goinginto it. He would not explain, but I know very well from teaching that if you're a little

bit tense here or here -that's why he was playing this way [sucks in cheeks]. We all

imitated him when he didn't look, but he'd bring his cheeks in. He couldn't play anyother way. I don't why, but maybe it opened his jaw. I don't know because I never daredto ask him, but I know from experience teaching from young to older that the momentyou tense either there or here your sound is not the same. He has the most beautifulsound. Even though with the bad records, you still hear it. Alive, you know, singing.You know what he liked? Caruso records. He was collecting them. And I remember whenever I had the chance to go in a little old shop. I'd look, hunt for one that he mightnot have and bring him one. That was my pleasure. The bel canto that you hear in a toptenor like him, he listened and I'm sure he applied it. People say that he -as you

probably heard- that he never practiced. I never heard him practice either. I know for afact in those trios of Rubinstein, Heifetz...Well, they were in California at that summer and I remember one day he insisted on the ping-pong teaching. You know I got evenwith him a few times. It was a pleasure. So Eva came out the door and she said "Suzette,let him go, let him go. He has to make recordings. He's going to be late." I said "Let himgo? He does what he wants." He said "Leave us alone. I'm studying this. I have to learnwhat she's doing." "But Munio, please! Heifetz and Rubinstein... They are waiting!""OK, I'll be there soon." " Play, play, play some more" he would say to me. I remember one boy, his name was Kramer, I don't know if he is alive, I haven't heard from him...Hemight come in the same suit every lesson and he practiced very -we all did. If youwalked in Santa Monica above where we lived in Pacific Palisades -I found a places for everybody- so you walk at night, everybody's practicing like crazy. I remember that I

lived with this old lady, and she had given me a room on the second floor and there wasa balcony. And one day I was practicing as much as I could and I had a strange feeling.I stopped practicing, I went on the balcony. Feuermann, who loved hisBuick...convertible. He was sitting in there listening to me practice. And then he saw meand he said "Come. I've decided you have a lesson today" "But Mr. Feuermann I'm notready" "I don't care. Just come. Right now" ...So ready or not he expected you to playwhen he was ready to hear you like this. Otherwise you had your lesson pretty much,except if he went away. So you had to practice those few weeks he was on tour. Anextraordinary man. I remember at lunch once he was trying to be very correct about hisEnglish pronunciation and I said something about 20 hours he says "twenty, not twony."My English wasn't great either, but he was right. He liked to be right...What a wonderful

person. What a great artist... [Talking about Feuermann's appointment at 16 as professor] Well he could teach almost anyone. You know people, violinists, violists,



bass players went to him. It was all the same idea, no matter if it was this or if it wasthis position, they learned from him. Who was this well known violist who used to go tohim?...Katims. He went, and then there was another one. But, anyone could learn musicfrom him, as you probably heard on the tapes. They had discussions about musical

problems and he always won out because he was always right. [referring to a Szymon

Goldberg quote from an interview by Monica Feuermann] I think there's no other genius. Everybody plays beautiful cello, but not like him. Do you know anybody who

plays like that? No.

Q: It's headed in the opposite direction, I think

A: That's why he wanted to teach so badly, and he died...

Q: What do you think people do differently than his style of playing now?

A; Well, first of all, nobody's learning anything from anyone. As long as they play fast,

as long as they play all the notes they're not... He made music as well. Now, he always picked the strings when he...You see there was bravura in Feuermann's playing and this picking of string...[when she was talking to a student of hers, she said] "I never showedyou that you go back with the fourth finger and you slide back. Why do you do that? Itold you, every note is like piano. You don't want this schmaltz in between"-that's theword he was using. So it was like pearls, it has to be every note going up or down has tosound the same, besides the point. If you have to shift , that's different. If you have a bigglissando, you sit on that note before. Sit there. Don't anticipate. Relax...Little detailslike this which I picked up and I remember everything quite well even though I didn'twrite everything, except that day -but it has to be clean playing. It has to sing. The bowhas to be changing together with the finger. Like you know the sports car when youchange? If not you have this 'crccchht' kind of sound. He loved cars, by the way, but hedidn't have a shift. He used to take me back to the station showing off a little bit inhis ...convertible. And coming down from his home there was this big 'S' goingdownwards and he was going wildly and I would say 'please god, I hope I make it'. Hedrove from here with his car to California and he proudly showed me that he burned hisarm because he had it on the side all the way. Great, great man... I still dream of his

playing, of that summer, of the places. Last time I went up to his house in -well beforethat he had planned to build a house in Rye... and so I went up there with him and Eva,and in the fields he was showing where his house would be and where the studio would

be and over the garage he had a studio for the ones who came out of town could sleep

there, and he had this idea he was going to make a little stage with two steps so he could play the quartets there, and he had an apartment just for Oma -for his mother in law-everything was so perfect, but I saw pictures of him that were taken during the last tour.Could see his hand becoming very thin, very bony and looking very sick. He wrote tohis pianist saying "I think I'm getting better because the pains come now instead of every three minutes, every five minutes." How can you play every night, practically, ontour, having this terrible pain, you know? And I don't know actually what happened. Iwent there on a Saturday. Monica, the little one was five... He built that beautiful houseand it was a nice place to go for lessons and I went there Saturday ready to play and allthat and Monica a little thing "Daddy's not here" and I said "Monica, I have a lessontoday. I'm sure" She said "No, no, no, he's not here." So I went into the house, I see Mrs.

Reifenberg in tears. I said "What's the matter?" and she said "Well Munio is in thehospital." I said "What's wrong?" "We don't know." And I went to Eva's...she was in



bed because she was expecting a second child, not allowed to move out from the bed,and she got a phone call from Feuermann from the hospital and she said "Don't go" andI sat there and he talked about how he loved Switzerland and how wonderful it was togo in the mountains and pick out the small strawberries. He was talking about all this.He was...probably under sedation or something. And then after she hung up I said "Eva,

I don't know but maybe your mother would like me to drive her back to the city. I gladlydo that. She could go to the hospital. I'll ask her." She said "Yes, good idea." I said"Mrs. Reifenberg would you like..." She says "Oh yes, would you take me?" I said "Of course." So I took her there, and on Sunday I telephoned practically -I made a pest of myself. I was crazy because I'd call the hospital "How ?" "Well he's as well as can beexpected." This is not what I wanted to hear. And I say "Well, does he need any extra

blood? Maybe my type is the same and I can come..." I didn't know what to do. I was soabsolutely devastated. So the next morning -it was a Monday morning, 9:00 rehearsalwith Barzin. Went to the rehearsal and when I came back, I turned on the radio and rightthere they said Feuermann just died. So I was crying three days in a row, and I calledmy mother in Montreal, and she was trying to calm me down. It was very hard, for

everybody of course, not just for ...I went to the -wake? Everybody who were musicianswere there. Schnabel played one of the Beethoven...very sad, one of the movement, thenToscanini stood up and he started talking. He said "He was like my son." He said "Thatwas the greatest loss I've ever felt" and he tried to talk about him and then he brokedown. He couldn't do it...[Discussing a later time when she had the chance to meetToscanini] I said [to Toscanini] "I want to ask your advice. I' m lost, I'm disoriented. Ilost Feuermann, as you know. I don't know what to do, I don't know where to go, whoto go with to study some more" and he said this "You are the most fortunate to have thegreatest teacher in the world. The best" He said "You were the most unfortunate also,

because after him there is no one" ...Of course that didn't help me, but I never forgotwhat he said. So I tried. Everybody I went to only wanted to know what did Feuermannmake me play, to see what Feuermann wanted -how, you know... But I thank Feuermann to this day for what I learned because without him, it wouldn't be the samelife.

Q: Did he ever talk about the 'approach' when you come to a new piece of music?

A: Not to me, and not to the others I remember in California or the few I took sometimes to Westchester to ride. He'd say for instance "So, what do you want to playnext week" He didn't tell you what to do. So I remember one day I said "Well,Schelomo." He said "That's very difficult." I said "I know." "Why do you want to play

this?" and I said "Because I like it." "All right, bring it next week." One week to learnSchelomo! And then I remember one of the passages was very difficult and he didn'treally truly understand what was difficult about anything on the cello. He didn't truly.He was sincere about it. "Look at me. What's the matter with you that -I don't see-there's nothing difficult about this" and he had his own cello hanging on his shoulder walking around playing this thing -perfect, and I felt like a worm because I thought if hecan walk around with it and play it this way and I'm sitting and I can't do it today -itmakes you feel like nothing. I mean you never get there. Of course you work for it andthen you get there finally and whenever he said "So..." you were very happy. But hedidn't ever say anything about any approach...

Q: Was he mostly concerned with technical details when he would criticize things?



A: No, but I mean a quarter note had to be a quarter note and an eighth had to be thevalue of two sixteenths. You finish sometimes and because there was a bar, somestudents would stop "What about that last note? One, two, there, four, five. Get off onfive." "Why?" "Because otherwise you're cutting off ..." and nobody's teaching solfegehere...

Q: You talked a little bit about the 'plucking'

A: One day I asked Heifetz "How did Nelsova play?" and he's thinking (cause he wentto recital and I didn't go) and he said "Well, pizzicato all the way."... He meant sheoverdid this. First of all, when you teach scales, you hit hard, first because it helps your fingers. You play scales because you want to -the intonation to be perfect as you go upand down and you know it's not the piano, of course. But coming down, for instance,you pick the string instead of sliding back like a lot of cellists do... So if you don't havethe clarity level like a pianist. There always a shift somewhere which shouldn't be there.You shouldn't hear that shift, unless you want a very special, for some musical reason.

Otherwise...

Q: In Feuermann's recordings there's lots of glissandi...

A: Yeah, when he was younger. His glissandi are so beautiful. Why? Because he istaking his time, he has a complete master[y] of the instrument. He doesn't go [sings aslide in which the first note is left immediately] and miss it. I heard him miss it onlyonce. [sings slide-slightly delayed ala Feuermann] It's in tempo, it's together with thestrength of the bow, it's all into the cello. It gets me very excited. There was a story Ihave to tell you in Carnegie Hall when he said go and do the rehearsals. There is a placein the Schelomo then you go from [sings] Db from a C, so it's on the G string -not soeasy. So most people think 'Well if you're lucky, you get it', but he never missed it. Notthat I ever heard it, but when I got there, having studied quite a bit, I didn't have any

problem -got the Db very easily. So he comes to the rehearsal and he was very nervous,he had been traveling a great deal. And I hadn't seen the orchestra part yet cause I wasdoing the rehearsals so I was practically under his nose and he was watching -you knowit's very difficult- so he gets to that part -he missed it, and he gets up with his cello andhe looks all over the place- said "Where did it go? Where did it go?" Being young andall, we were trying not to laugh too much, but it was rather funny, so of course at the

performance he didn't miss it, but it was the first time I think and I said to myself 'Atleast he's human'. But the second thing was, he's playing on the podium and there's

Barzin next to him. Barzin was not pleased with the brass section and Barzin continuesconducting and away, but he couldn't be seen any more because he went in the back tothe brass. So Feuermann's playing and all of the sudden he sees he has no conductor. Sohe gets up, he doesn't stop playing. he gets up and he conducts and he plays and he hasit hanging here [indicates neck] and he plays. We were in hysterics by that time. Barzinturns around and he comes over "Mr. Feuermann, please, let's be serious. This is arehearsal." But by that time he had us in such stitches that we weren't very serious. Buthe was doing these things and he enjoyed...getting the goat out of somebody. He didthat so much. Sometimes he went a little overboard, but I would forgive anything

because I was so lucky, you know. I mean this picking of things you can overdo it, butthe little ones I say "I want to hear -play without the bow. Let me hear. Pick the C string

for instance. [Sings C-D-E-F] Don't take it off. Take the G and then hit the A." And thenafter that you put the bow together.



Q: So you have the students actually pizz with the fingers as they come down?

A: When you come down, yes. You can overdo it, but when you teach the beginners andall that, or even this youngster who is now today 17, he forgets his fourth finger -hethinks of the next note and he slides back. Can't do that. [sings descending scale] It's this

finger that goes back and this one hits it [Indicating first and fourth respectively] buteach note has to sound the same as the note before, don't you think?

Q: Do you remember any ...types of exercises? Did he teach that way?

A: He wouldn't, no. He'd say "So, play some studies that you picked up -the Popper.Let's see" and of course he would destroy you in a few minutes. But you practice likenever before. One day he said "How many hours do you practice a day?" and I was so

proud, I say "Five hours, maestro". "Mm, hmm. Tell you what we do. You practice twohours my way -I don't care what you do with the rest of the hours" Smart. That is true.Don't play-practice. It's different. You can play hours and hours a day and still not learn

anything-just get over the notes and everything. You should think 'Why suddenly thisdoesn't sound right?' Or, if it sounds good, 'Why did it sound good?' Then you analyzeit, and you say 'Oh, now I know.' Not to go over is good enough. So it takes a lot of

patience and a lot of work, but it's a different approach. When I played Schelomosomebody came backstage and said "You must be a Feuermann pupil." I say "How doyou know?" "Well nobody plays like this" and he said "Are you Jewish?" I said " No.""How can you play this that way?" I said "Well I didn't know there was another way.This is the way I feel and I enjoy it." I don't know. You can't imitate anyone, but youcertainly learn a lot -even from the recordings you can.

Q: The vibrato is so intense...

A: If he plays, even a fast passage, his vibrato is on every note. That's probably whywhen you played well, his hand just went with you -he didn't notice...You should see hisstaccato. Beautiful. He could do it just as well, either way. That boy Kramer workedthree weeks on a very complicated bow that he was so proud, he could hardly wait toshow off. And he comes to Feuermann's lesson and I was there, like a few others, andhe's proudly playing this. Feuermann said "Mm, hmm. Quite good. (And he's walkingaround) Have you ever tried it this way?" Upside down, completely. This boy was soshattered -he'd worked so hard on this. It was nothing for Feuermann. Nothing wascomplicated or difficult. He would play quartet, let's say with Primrose, who would

miss some passage and Feuermann would say "You mean this?" and he would play it onhis cello, but he would play that part without looking at it. A genius.

[After a brief pause]

Q: I'm just going to repeat for the benefit of the tape, which had stopped -you weretalking about the shifts, and you talked about the spacing [the '//' indications in the

performing editions]...being more to demarcate the phrase, and then you talked aboutthe bow speed remaining consistent on both sides to avoid an accent. You talked aboutthe evenness in the [sings running passage from the opening of the Boccherini A major Sonata]. Playing as a piano...



A: Sometimes like yesterday [referring to her student], the third finger when he wastrying to play -he just learning the A major Beethoven -his third finger is not strongenough to have the same sound, the same balance, so I was telling "You'd better work on this because you're not even. The sound has to be exactly the same." But the changeof the bow, if you change faster than where you left before, most of the time you make

an accent. Accents are in the wrong place usually, anyway...

Bernard Greenhouse

Q: Did you ever go out to California for those summers with Feuermann?

A: No. I knew him only when I was -at the time that I knew him I was playing at CBS. Iwas first cellist for the Chamber Orchestra and I had the Dorian string Quartet, which

broadcast Sunday mornings every week for a long, long period of time, and it was at atime after I had finished my studies at the Juilliard. I was busy working, but I felt theneed of some more training, more help and advice, and so I started working with him. I

drove up to Scarsdale, when he lived in Scarsdale. Once every two weeks, I'd go up andhave a lesson with him. Sometimes, I didn't have a lesson with him -I was a car buff atthe time and I had a gorgeous Packard convertible ...It was a very beautiful car, andnew, and I'd drive up to Scarsdale and he'd come out the door and say "No lesson today.Let's go for a drive" and he'd get behind the wheel and we'd drive for about 45 minutesor an hour and then come back and do some playing. But it was always a wonderfulexperience because he played a lot for me at that time.

Q: In the lessons?

A: In the lessons, yes. He always had a cello next to him and played a great deal and, of course, just watching him was an enormously exciting experience. Up close, you know.And he would explain many of his theories about left hand and bow technique.Actually, the left hand was the thing that really amazed me, and I think I have at leastcaught the basis for his left hand technique.

[After a brief pause]

Q: So you were talking about left hand technique..

A: Well, it was -I can tell you basically, he didn't believe in extensions at all. His hand

was always in the natural position, never extended in any direction. Everything he didwas in this -and he used fast motion of the wrist and of the elbow in order to move onthe fingerboard. It was [Demonstrates on the cello, playing B-C, B-C#, B-D, B-D#, B-Eon the A string. The left hand remains closed (without extension). The reaches areaccomplished by shifting the left hand and quickly turning the wrist (in the same way asis described in the Havivi notes.) And the hand was always like this [Indicates closed('natural') position] [plays E-D#, E-D, E-C#, E-C, E-B on A string, demonstrating thesame motion (with the wrist motion direction reversed, obviously) in descent] It wasalways that motion with the wrist, and with the elbow helping so that the hand never had to use extension. It was this motion [Plays an A major scale starting on the G string,ending on E on the A string, keeping the left hand in closed position] instead of [plays

the same scale using extensions] that, which he thought was quite clumsy. That was



basically one of the things which I caught onto and helped me a great deal in my ownleft hand... That was basically one of the most important aspects of his left hand.

Q: So what about the elbow? You said wrist and elbow?

A: Well it's this [Demonstrates the arm movement] It's a combination of -it comes fromthe body, elbow and the wrist....

Q: When you went in for a lesson, you'd play for him and...

A: Very often -he was difficult. He was not an easy teacher. He couldn't understand thattechnique for him was a problem. It was so natural -his way of performing was sonatural that he couldn't understand how someone like myself would have the difficultywhich I had. It became easier for me, fortunately, because of my work with him, but atthe time it was -he said to me at one time, he said "Well, if you practice for six hours aday, maybe for a few years, maybe you'll learn how to play the cello" and I was already

a very successful young cellist, not doing solo work at that time. I was doing a lot of chamber music and I was also a professional, because I was first cellist of the chamber orchestra at CBS. But, he was very sarcastic about my ability. The nice thing though,was that even though he was very rough with me, it would come back to me from other

people that he admired my talent, at least. So I didn't feel so badly because he spokewell about me, to other people. And to his wife, Eva.

Q: I remember a quote from Claus Adam who said " A compliment from Feuermannwas something along the lines of 'Well, it's beginning to sound like a cello, almost!' "

A: That was his sarcasm. I once became very enthusiastic -I must have been about 22years old, 23 years old- and I decided it was time to play a debut recital in New York and (Rory and I were not married at this time, but we were friends) and we drove uptogether to consult with Feuermann about doing a recital in New York and I thoughtwell certainly he would give me some help with programming and then listen to me

play. And we arrived in Scarsdale and we sat down and told him about this great plan Ihad to have my debut recital at Town Hall and he listened for a while and scratched hishead and he said "You know, I have 12 concerts next year in the United States. Why doyou think that you are going to have a career on the cello? I think it's a mistake for youto even do a recital in New York, because there's no chance for you to have a career.They don't like the cello in this country. What are you going to do?" He said "There are

only two cellists playing in this country and we have a struggle, and one is Grisha andthe other is myself. And I only have 12 concerts" This was the kind of sarcasm -but ittook me a while till I made up my mind that I was going to try anyway and I had mydebut recital a little bit later and then played almost every year. But he was a greatinfluence, up to a point. Not a great influence musically. I think that he was a finemusician and played magnificently, but there was something else I was looking for atthe time and after he died, I decided to go on and do some further work and wound upwith Alexanian for about a year -a year and a half. He was a great mentor, a great

pedagogue. A terrible cellist .

Q: Really?

A: Oh, he couldn't play the cello



Q: I heard that Feuermann actually used to go and play for Alexanian?

A: Yes, he did. He never played a recital without coming to play for him. And that's onereason why I went to Alexanian, because he had an enormous admiration for Alexanianas a musician, and he respected his musical judgment enormously. How it came about

that I got to Alexanian -I had been drafted in to the service and I was in the Navy, Isigned up in the Navy and they finally put me into the Washington Symphony and Navy

band... But I had a pass -three day pass to come up to New York for the weekend, andon the train I met Mischa Schneider who was in the Budapest Quartet and playing at theLibrary of Congress, and he was on his way to New York to have a lesson on the sixthsuite of Bach, and he invited me to come along and listen. And I did go with him and Ienjoyed tremendously the work that he did with Alexanian, so I started coaching withAlex[anian] and I did so for a year until finally the war was over and Alexaniansuggested that I go to work with Casals. That's a long story -that's how I got to Casals.He wrote to Casals, asked whether he would teach me and Casals wrote back and said"No." So I took the next troop transport to France and wrote again. I was in Paris, I had

to get a visa through the American School at Fontainebleau. I registered there to studywith Ecking[?], but that lasted just one lesson. And I had written to Casals askingwhether he wouldn't just listen to me play once and he wrote back and said "Well if youcome on such and such a date and if you donate $100 to Spanish charities, I'll listen toyou play". So I left the Fontainebleau school, took a train down to the south of France,to the Pyrenees -and that's a long story too, how I got him to agree to teach me- but Istayed for two years there. So it was the combination of work with Feuermann on justthe amazing facility which he had on the instrument, the musical advice from Alexanianand then the final touching off of the enormous creative gift of Casals.

Q: What differences did you notice in Casals approach to the instrument andFeuermann's?

A: I think that Feuermann was a naturally gifted instrumentalist. He was not a greatcreative talent in the same sense as Casals. Casals was innovative, creative in hismusical ideas. There was nothing unmusical about Feuermann's playing. Absolutelynothing -I mean he was a wonderful musician, but there's a dividing line between awonderful musician and a creative performer, whether it be on the cello or the piano or any instrument. There is one point where you listen and you hear something which is agreat work of art. That you heard when Casals performed. When you listened toFeuermann, it was spectacular. It was fine musicianship -everything was there except he

didn't produce anything in the way of phrasing which touched the very depth of your soul. It wasn't there. But he was to be admired for what he was. You don't compare -youcan't compare Feuermann and Piatigorsky and Casals

Q: I was just wondering if you noticed differences in the technical side of the approach?

A: Well Casals had, by far, not the technical perfection of Feuermann. He had a struggle playing the cello. Everything that he did, which finally turned out to be very natural andvery beautiful, was work for Casals. He was not that much of a naturally giftedinstrumentalist. He had to work hard, and his playing was not as exact as Feuermann's.He had difficulty sometimes with his memory, sometimes with his performance, and he

was a completely different kind of talent.



Q: Zara [Nelsova] told me that Casals' recordings are not that representative of his playing...

A: Definitely not. I have some old wax discs here of Casals which are representative, but for the most part I don't think that they represent the best of his playing. Even the

Dvorak concerto which he did later during the Prades festivals -they're notrepresentative. You see, when I studied with Casals, he played a great deal. He playedthe Suites for me endlessly. I'd have two or three lessons a week -I was his only studentthe first year. The second year Zara came down for a month or so, but I was there. I washis student, his protégé for two years. My lessons sometimes were three or four hours.My lessons were long and exciting. So I got a chance to hear him relaxed, still in hisgreat condition. He was 70 years old at the time and still had great, great command -itwas before the festivals started. So I was fortunate enough to be able to hear Casals athis best. So when you talk about the difference in objective, I think that one can't really

place them on different levels because the level which Feuermann reached in his ownway was higher than the one which Casals could have reached and it was vice versa.

The level which Casals reached in his musical conceptions, Feuermann could never reach, and as a matter of fact, in my lifetime, nobody has reached. I have tried, but itdoesn't work. If anyone were to be able to, I should be able to, and I can't. It was sonatural and so surprising -the sense of beauty which he created with a phrase, andalways surprising because it was something which you hadn't been able to think of yourself, and that's such a wonderful thing to be able to hear the workings of a genius.

Q: Did Feuermann talk specifically about vibrato?

A: Not particularly. But of course it was something that one could get into one's ear andemulate after a while. That's the Feuermann sound. There were many things which Ilearned from him. There were techniques of making music. Techniques of glissandiwhich could be very exciting. The use of the bow and the left hand at the same time indoing long glissandi to really take you right out of your seat with the impact andstrength

of the playing. Things like that

Q: Timing the arrival of the glissando?

A: In the Schelomo when he did [Demonstrates]

it was the left hand and the bow together -things like that which he showed me whichwere... The movement of the entire body creating this enormous drive. Those were



wonderful things that he showed me. And also the relaxation in the left hand, the abilityto do very beautiful, beautiful musical glissandi by relaxing the hand in between.Lovely things which have stayed with me. Casals couldn't express his musical ideas. Hecould show you, he could demonstrate. Feuermann could talk. Casals didn't talk. If you

played a phrase for him he'd say "No, no. Not like that" and then he'd sit down at the

cello and show you what he wanted. But Feuermann explained to a greater extent whathe wanted.

Q: You were talking about relaxing in between the shifts...

A: For instance in the Polonaise [Chopin, Op.3] if you were doing [Plays the first two phrases (i.e. the first two cello entrances) in the Polonaise. Demonstrates a relaxedglissando from the top G of the first phrase down to the C, and then another in thesecond phrase from the D(edc#d) up to the F#]

Q: So it's letting up of...

A: Yes, letting all the tension out. Things like that can be so helpful in phrasing.

Q: It seems on the film that his left hand is very 'active', very tight in a way when it'smoving...

A: No, I don't think it was much different than [Demonstrates playing all four fingersrapidly in a relaxed motion in scale passages] It's that ease of motion which he hadwhich was so wonderful and my hand, I think, is very close. As a matter of fact, when Iwas in great shape, 6o years ago, they compared my playing at that time -in the Times-to Feuermann's because my left hand was very much like his.

Q: You have a little bit of angle [in your left hand], kind of like a violinists approach...[His left hand angles slightly back towards the pegs, as seen from straight on]

A: Yes. It's the ease of motion and never the extensions, just the movement of the body,moving with the hand, and also a little bit of the wrist for this [moves wrist so fingersstrike string] -for the enunciation.

Q: Did he have the enunciation of every note, so that you can hear every finger on thefingerboard?

A: Yes he did. Casals even more than Feuermann. Every time he started it was[demonstrates finger hitting string]. That kind of thing. He wanted the beginning of every note. He wanted to hear it just like the piano. It had to be crisp -even in

pianissimo.

Q: And I notice you do sometimes the plucking he talked about?

A: Yeah. [Demonstrates with the 'plucking'] That's the Feuermann left hand.

Q: It's always in this position. [Closed, angled slightly back]

A: And always with great simplicity and ease. It' s not a struggle.



Q: And it seems in control because it's not extending...

A: And also it helps for intonation, because your fingers find the right place if they'rerelaxed. If they're tense, you lose some of your sensitivity and the fact that your hand isrelaxed also helps to play in tune.

Q: It's a relaxed hand but at the same time you have a hammering action from thefingers?

A: Oh yes, but that doesn't take strength. That's just a question of tendon striking, notmuscle.

Q: Did he ever talk about exercises for trills?

A: No

Q: Or did he recommend any kind of exercises in general?

A: No. I studied only major pieces in the repertoire. I remember I did the Dvorak concerto with him, I did the Brahms F major sonata, I did the Locatelli sonata with him-these were the works that I had with him. I must say that I had to go into the service andthat was he reason that I stopped working with him, but it was not enough for me. I feltthat I would have loved to continue working with him. It wasn't as intensive a period of time as I had with Casals. It was the same period of time, but with Casals it was muchmore concentrated work. I was living in the village and working three times a week with him, and with Feuermann it was once every two weeks. I even remember a card hesent me because I was late arranging for a lesson. Two weeks went by and I hadn'tgotten in touch with him and he wrote me a card and said "Was your last lesson thefinish of your study with me?"...Made me sit up.

Q: In terms of bowing, was there anything you took from him?

A: It was very difficult to capture anything on his bowing because it was the most beautiful bow arm I've ever seen and, while I've tried to hold the bow the way he did,things didn't come out the same way.

Q: How did he hold the bow?

A: It was a very natural -it was a little bit more like a violin bow than a cello bow. Hehad a little bit of an angle to it, like this [Demonstrates. His hand is angled towards thetip. His second finger is placed near the metal band on the frog] with the little finger upon top of the bow. Casals position was this [Demonstrates. His hand is more squared(vertical), with his third finger on metal]. Rostropovich's is like this [Demonstrates. Hiswrist is lowered and his fingers are higher on frog. It looks 'grabbed'] ...

A: So that would explain why in the video, whereas most cellists have their third finger on the metal, he had his second finger near the metal.

A: Well it would pull down this one, yes. This was his position. But mine eventuallywas changed to this [indicates Casals type position] But his bow arm was as great as



any violinists'. I think even greater than Heifetz. Incredible bow arm, he could doanything. You know that Toscanini had his eightieth birthday party and the NBCorchestra had arranged for a birthday party for him at one of the auditoriums and theorchestra came in short pants -with velvet pants, like prodigies. And Heifetz came andFeuermann came with his short velvet pants, and one of the things on the program was

Feuermann playing the Mendelssohn violin concerto, the last movement with the cello[ed.-he means violin] between his legs. And it was a sensation, I mean the way hehandled the bow, it was just incredible. He played a beautiful performance of the lastmovement of the violin concerto.

Q: Someone told me that if you watch Heifetz, you'll notice that he plays a lot in theupper half of the bow...and they were thinking that Feuermann was along the samelines.

A: I don't think so.

Q: One thing I did notice on the video is very conscientious usage of the bow in termsof spacing...

A: Yes. Well the tremendous control of the bow...

Q: About glissandi -you talked about the releasing in between [notes], thecoordination...

A: And the use of speed of the bow also, in ...the Feuermann slide. It's [Demonstrates-the same passage as before in Schelomo] The use of the bow and the finger together.That punch that he had [In the demonstration, Mr. Greenhouse makes an accent with the

bow, partly with bow speed, to coincide with the arrival of the left hand] Enormous projection with the use of the speed of the bow and the left hand.

Q: Did he talk about waiting before the shift?

A: Well there was always the [Demonstrates a small hesitation] There's that little wait before the -two hands work together. With my students, I always talk about that particular kind of glissando, which was enormously helpful in bringing out the climax ...

One comment that I think I would like to make. When I knew Feuermann, he was

unique. He was absolutely unique. There was no one. I had heard Cassado and I hadheard Garbousova at that time, they were contemporaries, and I had heard Mainardi andsome of the French people -Maréchal, and that was an era. I don't think today that wewould have been quite as astounded with his technique, because I think he was aforerunner of a new way, a possibilities of playing the instrument which has caught on.And now when I'm on the jury for competition, as happens very often, I find anenormous degree of expertise on the instrument which we never had in the days when Iwas a young student. This is all new. When I listen to a thirteen year old...Hanna Chang.When I listen to a little kid like that play with a technique which is incredible for thatage, thirteen year old. We had nothing like that. We didn't have any Menuhins playingthe cello at that time. We had Felix Salmond, who was a fine musician and a wonderful

artist. Had a very beautiful sound, but couldn't play the cello as well as most cellists play today. Had difficulty with the instrument. And when Feuermann came along, we



didn't even have a knowledge of Casals playing, because he hadn't come to the UnitedStates and I hadn't heard him in person as a youngster. ...I'm talking about those yearsfrom 1925 to 1935 when I started to become serious about the cello and there was noopportunity of hearing Casals. I heard only Willem Willeke and [Janos] Sholz andAlfred Wallenstein ...the first cellist of the Philharmonic. These were the cellists, and

they were not great instrumentalists, none of them. And when Feuermann came along, itwas a shock that the cello could be played the way it was, the way he played it. So hewas the one who showed us what the horizons could be on the instrument. More so thanCasals because, while everyone loved Casals playing in Europe -he was revered inEurope- in America he was not known. He had sparse audiences. He had 75 people inPhiladelphia when he played at Orchestra Hall. So he was not the model. It was later,when Feuermann started building his reputation, and Piatigorsky also, that we began todiscover what was possible on the cello. Feuermann more than Piatigorsky, butPiatigorsky also was wonderful artist, very sensitive, and so he made his mark in thiscountry as well as Feuermann. There was great competition between the two.

Q: Did you ever have the chance to play to Piatigorsky?

A: Yes, I did...I always had a new Packard convertible, right up until the time I wentinto the Navy, and I used to drive him up to Tanglewood when he had a performancewith Koussevitzky. I was the one to take him from New York to Tanglewood andalways had a chance to play for him and lots of talk with him. I had a nice friendshipwith Piatigorsky, but no real study with him. He resented the fact that I was workingwith Feuermann. Said so too. They were not great friends.

Q: You talked about the general technical level having risen. What about stylistically?

A: Well there's been an enormous influence today with Rostropovich. He has becomethe major influence in the cello world today. Everyone wants to be either a Yo-Yo Maor a Rostropovich, because naturally young people want success with their work and sothey emulate the people who are successful. I think that they are both not quite in thePiatigorsky mold. I think that Yo-Yo would be closer to have followed in the footstepsof a Feuermann than Rostropovich. I don't know whether the principles of Feuermannhave rubbed off on Yo-Yo. I would say that he has the advantage of being as natural agift as Feuermann on the instrument. I don't think that there's anyone who's been able tocommunicate musically on the cello as well as Casals. There is no one today, and thereis no one at the time when he was playing either, who came up to that standard of

musicality and artistic height. I admire Yo-Yo's playing. I think he's a wonderful, probably an enormous gift on the cello in every respect and certainly Rostropovich is agenius in many respects. His knowledge of the instrument is formidable and his work with new compositions of great difficulty -being able to analyze and work on new

pieces is spectacular. Nobody else has the same ability. But these are all different,various aspects of talent, and one has to pick in his own way what he's looking for.Some people will react to the playing of a great player like Fournier and another one toTortellier or to Navarra. Each one has a stamp and I personally found my own horizonto be as close as I could get to the musical inspiration of Casals. With the help or thetechnique which I learned from Feuermann and the musicianship which I got from FelixSalmond. They were all helpful in building something which I eventually felt was my

own way of playing the instrument. And I've used all of their ideas in order to make mylife a beautiful one, doing what I wanted to do, which was for the main playing chamber



music, interspersed with orchestra performances and solo recitals, but for the most parta diversified career which gave me the pleasure of making music. And using all of theideas which I've gotten from many teachers.

Q: It seems a happy combination of teaching...

A: I think it's essential. I feel sorry for the young gifted people who stop studying toosoon, because there's wisdom in age and there's guidance also from the older people.And just because you start on a career, of any kind, and you might be twenty five yearsold or twenty eight years old and you think 'Well it's time to stop studying now. It's upto me' No, but there's so much to be learned when you're thirty years old. And that'show old I was when I went to Casals. I was thirty and I still had the desire to learn froma great master. I wouldn't have gone to anybody else at that point, but I knew there wasone man who could still lead the way for me to open up new vistas of musical ideas.

Q: That seems like a much healthier attitude than this attitude running rampant right

now that if you're not touring the world by 18 [years old] you should be out of music.

A: It's almost sad to see the lack of development in the people who have great careers.They have great careers -they're playing all over the place with fantastic fees, and youhear them play and it's a little bit deteriorating from what you heard ten years earlier when they were just starting out. It doesn't improve, it gets worse as they go along. AndI'm talking about string players now, with big reputations. And the mistake is that theystop studying, they say 'Well, I have everything that a musician could want. Why shouldI go study now?' The mistake is that they can never really achieve any great satisfactionfor themselves because...learning is something that goes on your whole lifetime and if you don't continue and if you're not willing to subject yourself to teaching, at some

point, you miss out on the great pleasure of making music, because even today -I don'twant to play any more. I mean I can play, but I have stopped performing except for anoccasional sonata which is not demanding, but I've stopped playing because I don't wantto spoil anything that I've done in 50 years of a career and I don't trust, physically, Idon't trust myself to do things on the same height as I used to. But I'm still learning. I'mstill willing to try something new on the instrument. If I see a student who can dosomething that I can't do, I take it from him. And I'm not ashamed to. So it's this attitudewhich I feel so sad about when I hear great performers who not only stay on a level, butcome down lower than their own standards, simply because they're not learning as theyhave their careers. I can bet that there are things which just in discussing with Yo-Yo,

talking with Slava, who's a friend of mine, that would give them some ideas, and of course I could get some too. But the interchange of ideas at a high level is so important.That's why someone like [Louis] Claret, who is having a big career now in Europe,came for a week. I've had lots of people, like Frans Helmerson, people like that who Ican talk music with and show them some of the ideas which have passed on throughFeuermann, through Casals. Give them some ideas too of which way they want to go.

Mosa Havivi

Mosa Havivi studied with Feuermann in Berlin from 1930-35, and continued afriendship with him for the remainder of his life.

(paraphrased from interview notes)



Mr. Havivi spoke of a 'rocking' motion when moving the left hand up or down thefingerboard. When going up the fingerboard, the left hand begins inclined towards thescroll of the cello and rotates forward as the distance is traveled ending with [whatappears to be] a quick finish to the rocking motion -that is to say a large part of the'rocking' is accomplished during the final stage of the position change yielding an attack

from above. The procedure for going down the fingerboard is exactly thereverse-'rocking' backwards, as it were. He said that by utilizing this procedureFeuermann was able make distance traveled on the fingerboard irrelevant and wastherefore unafraid of leaps of any distance.

Mr. Havivi spoke of Heifetz's use of the upper half of the bow, a region which he believes Heifetz utilized for his best playing. He stated that it was both easier to playslowly in the upper half -contrary to one's instinct- and easier to control fast speeds. Heimplied that Feuermann was aware of this, and like Heifetz utilized the upper half togreat effect.

Havivi said that Feuermann believed that each finger had its own type (sound) of vibrato and sometimes choose fingerings based on the type of vibrato sound dictated bythe music. He said that Feuermann frequently used different bowings and fingerings but

produced the identical musical effect regardless. He related a story of Feuermann performing a fingering in the Haydn D major concerto that Havivi suggested to himduring the dress rehearsal. Havivi also said that Feuermann made an effort to putchanges of position on half steps. Speaking about thumb position, Havivi said that thethumb was always to place firm pressure on the string, and remain as such while theother fingers moved freely. He demonstrated a fingering taught by Feuermann in theBeethoven A major sonata which illustrates a usage of the thumb that is quite unusual:

He said that Feuermann used this fingering in this instance because the diminuendoimplied in the phrase allowed it.

Havivi talked of Feuermann's absolute coordination of the right and left hands and theclean style that resulted, saying that Feuermann never produced a glissando unless hechoose to do so. Havivi believes that the right hand is much more difficult to master.Speaking of Feuermann's performing editions, he stated his belief that Feuermannchoose for them easier bowings and fingerings than he might use in performance, for the sake of the students. Specifically, he discussed the A minor scale in the opening of the Schumann concerto which Havivi remembered Feuermann playing in one bow, butwhich is separated into two in his edition.

Talking about Feuermann's consistent choice of fingerings to conform to the dictates of

the musical line, he compared his fingering for the opening of the Boccherini A major sonata to that in the Stutschewsky and Piatti-Forino editions. While Feuermann plays 1-



2(4212)-4-2, the other editions choose 1-2(4212)-1-2 resulting in an unmusical accenton the G#. Feuermann's shift is on a half step and on a major beat, avoiding an accenton the musically weak G# 16th note:

Havivi believes that pure technique should be learned by playing Bach and reminiscedon Feuermann's performances of the G Major suite, the prelude of which he saidFeuermann played non-legato so as to deliberately distinguish his performance fromCasals, and the C Major suite, which he said Feuermann played in fast tempo but

beautifully sustained much, he said, in the same manner as his recording of the Reger suite.

Asked to speak about the differences in contemporary cello playing compared toFeuermann's, Mr. Havivi spoke of the impact of steel strings [Feuermann used a steel Astring when it became available, but his lower strings remained gut] and theimpossibility of obtaining quality gut strings today. He correlated this with the modernobsession with producing a gigantic sound. He also spoke of musicians notunderstanding how to produce what the music dictates. He gave the example of an actor speaking the phrase " I want to go with you". Depending on whether the emphasis is

placed on "I", "want", "go" or "you", the meaning of the utterance changes drastically. It

is the same in music, and musicians ought to be aware of the same musical 'grammar'when creating a phrase, he argued.

Speaking about Feuermann as a teacher, Mr. Havivi said that Feuermann had a 'godgiven' technique and that he didn't tell his students how to correct their flaws. That,Havivi said, you had to learn for yourself. Feuermann would say only "Can't you hear that you lose that note?", or "...that you accent that note?" or whatever the complaintwas.

Asked about Feuermann's apparent favoring of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd fingers and lessfrequent usage of the 4th finger in fingering, as observed in his film, Havivi said that

Feuermann learned from violin technique. In comparison to other cellists who believedin extending a whole step between each of the four fingers, Feuermann understood thatthe second and third finger were connected, he said. He also discussed Feuermann's

practice of extending the third finger straight while trilling between the second andfourth fingers, which he said relaxed the hand.

Mr. Havivi composed a set of Seven Caprices, published by Carl Fischer in 1939, whichare designed to develop the cellist's technique in accordance with technical principlesdiscussed here.

Zara Nelsova

Q: When did you first study with Feuermann?



A: 1942.

Q: And you first met him?

A: I met him when I was on tour with Leopold Stokowski with the All American Youth

Orchestra...In that orchestra was a cellist ...[Irving] Klein, and Klein was a student of Feuermann and he was dying to bring me to play for him, so when we got to LosAngeles...that was when I went up to Feuermann's home and played for him, and then Idecided I wanted to come and study with him. So when I got back to... Toronto, Icommuted to New York for the lessons with him. But I didn't have so many. I was withhim maybe five weeks, that's all. And then he died...I can't even tell you how we gotalong, because there was no problem and I used to hear that he was miserable to all of his students -absolutely awful- but ...George Neikrug said that he never -when I camefor my lessons- did he ever say anything that was nasty. He was not nasty to me at all.

Q: David Soyer told me also that Feuermann was very fond of you...

A: I wouldn't know that. But it was wonderful to play for him. I didn't have that muchtime, but the real impression came after his death, with the remembering of his playingand the few records that he left, and everything about his way of execution was soeffortless. Not that I had any problems with technique, but I do remember awonderful...incident when I was playing -I've forgotten where it was- when a man came

backstage and introduced himself. He said "You don't know me, but I was a very closefriend of Feuermann" and said "I got a letter from Feuermann in which he said 'Today Iheard a young Canadian girl who plays better than I do.' " Can you imagine being toldthat from somebody who died years and years and years ago? That really did have atremendous effect on me. But, you know, he didn't say anything to me about my

playing. They never do. Neither did Casals...There is something about teachers whenthey do have a talent -they are so honest and interested in what that student does, andwhat they're going to do with their future, that it's automatically taken for granted thatthe student knows how the teacher feels about them. But I realize it' s not so and I dothink a teacher should never hold back, and I do feel it's wrong not to tell a player howyou really feel about their playing because everybody needs that. Not false praise buthonest opinion, which is what we're looking for...

Q: What would you say you got [from Feuermann] in terms of approaching theinstrument?

A: As I said, very little -while I was with him. I think the only work we had time towork on was the Rococo Variations. And that I played when I was thirteen already. Hewas -I remember one of the things he stressed very much was the perfect coordinationof the bow and the left hand when you go to take a glissando, and if you listen to someof his records, a lot of his glissandi have that perfect coordinated sound of the bow andthe left hand, but one doesn't always want to make that kind of a glissando. There aremany different kinds of glissando. But he didn't have too many. But it was his effortlessway of playing...but it was effortless playing which made great sense. I mean you can'tget carried away because somebody plays effortlessly, but it's what they do with it, andit was what he did with it that was so wonderful, even with the few recordings that we

have left. But he had great purity of sound, which was wonderful. It was a very specialsound. As I say, I only heard him once in public.



Q: [Are there] any specific types of things that you remember him criticizing in thelessons?

A: That's the only thing I can remember in my case. I sat in on one or two of his lessons but I can't remember what he told them except that he was always bawling them out...

Q: Did he talk ever about things to practice -scales, anything like that?

A: No. Not with me, no. Those that came to him, I think, had a pretty well establishedtechnique. Otherwise I don't think he would have bothered with them. I remember hewas moving into his new house, which was not yet ready, in Scarsdale, and the lessonstook place once at the home of one of his students, here in... Manhattan and I can'tremember the name of one of his students, who lived at home, and so he would come infrom Scarsdale or once we went out there...

Q: After he died, you said you found influence in his playing?

A: Well, after he died, I listened a lot to his recordings and remembered the one andonly time I heard him play in public, and that was when I really began to understand hisway of playing.

Q: Did he have a big sound?

A: He had a big enough sound. I heard him at Town Hall. That was where he did theMozart [trans. Szell] concerto.

Q: How would you compare Feuermann's approach to the instrument with Casals?

A: You can't compare. It's impossible... Casals was something in his own class. Youcouldn't compare anybody to him. Feuermann had yet to arrive at that stage... They alltried to get to him... Cassado when he was a young man came close, but later it was notthe same thing. Cassado was the only real student that Casals had...the others spent timewith him, but it was really Cassado that you can really say was his real student, and[also] probably Suggia, who studied with him when she was very young. You can'tcompare anybody that I know with Casals. I don't speak about his recordings that heleft, because they are not Casals at his best. They're very much exaggerated in manyinstances because he was a very nervous recording artist...His way of overcoming his

nerves was to exaggerate sometimes and you can hear that in some of his recordings.But I worked with him and I know how he plays. ...When I first went to study with himand I took the Bach suites and I listened to the sixth Bach suite and copied every singlelittle thing that I could hear. And then when I went to study with him for the first time inPrades, and the last lesson was the sixth suite and I played it for him -he nearly threwme out. He said "Why do you do this?" and "Why do you do that?" and I didn't want tosay 'Because you do it on your record.' And then he sat down and played it for me. Itwas completely different. So I know the way he plays...

Q: How would you describe his playing?

A: It was as close to pure music as you can ever get. His playing was reaching into whatthe composer was trying to say first. Not, as one hears so often today, the opposite way



-doing something because you're not sure of what to do musically. That wasn't his wayand that's what made him a very, very great artist. He had a magnificent sound. It wasnot what I would call an earthy sound, but a very pure sound and expressed his musicalideas like no one I ever heard.

Q: Did you work with Piatigorsky?

A: Yes, for about three summers.

Q: What about Feuermann's approach to the instrument versus Piatigorsky's?

A: Piatigorsky did not have the natural technique. He got around, and when he wasmuch younger he got around extremely well, but as he grew older he stopped being ascareful or caring as much. Music probably didn't mean as much to him as it did toCasals. Or to Feuermann. So you find a lot of his early playing was full of 'little tricks'.But I don't like to say that because he was really a great artist. But I think of him in the

beginning, because I heard him when he first came out of Germany, in London and -oneof his early performances- and he walked on and played Dvorak and Don Quixote inone evening. It was magnificent. And then I would go and hear him every time he cameto play in London until I left. Then he moved to this country...There really are no artiststhat I would put in their category. There is one and he is about the closest I think towhat I feel is great playing...Miklos Perenyi. He's a lovely artist, but you know thiscountry is not interested in anybody else except Yo-Yo. I mean I'm very fond of Yo-Yo,

but that's a different planet.

Q: What do you think is different in the modern style of playing -in general?

A: It's like a beautiful Iris that has a different color put over it and you call it an Iris. It'snot real. And the unfortunate part is that a tiny percentage of an audience that goes to a

performance today knows any different...and the managements. Forget about them.They really don't know anything, and if you're over the age of about fourteen you'reover the hill.

David Soyer

(Paraphrased from notes taken during conversation)

American cellist David Soyer studied with Feuermann during the year prior to hisFeuermann's death (1941).

Mr. Soyer discussed an instance when he, being too young to know any better, askedFeuermann "Why do you slide so much?" Feuermann responded that "The cello is not aclarinet. You don't just cover the holes with your fingers" and explained to him his

philosophy that cello playing should have a fluidity much the same as the human voice,and that the glissandi he employed helped to make it sound so. Mr. Soyer said thatFeuermann held the opinion of the cellist Diran Alexanian, whom Soyer classified as adisciple of Casals, in high regard and frequently consulted with him. Soyer states thatAlexanian particularly emphasized articulation. Mr. Soyer also stated that he believed

Feuermann's bow arm technique was related more to that of violinists more than totraditional cello technique.



As at teacher, Mr. Soyer found Feuermann harsh and demanding, not beyond hitting thestudent with his bow or breaking out into peals of laughter at their attempts. He

believes, however, that Feuermann's playing represents the most highly developed styleof cello playing to date and considers him to be more 'modern' than contemporary

players. Mr. Soyer identified Alexanian, Casals, Feuermann and Janigro as practitioners

of a 'modern' style of cello playing, while the schools of Leonard Rose and OrlandoCole were named as examples, among many, of a contemporary style which Soyer considers to have returned to pre-Casals practices.

In The Strad [1], Mr. Soyer is also quoted, from an interview by John Samuels, assaying "Feuermann was a happy combination of much good schooling. He was a pupilof Julius Klengel...and also had the schooling of Diran Alexanian and hence that of Casals. The result was a very highly developed way of playing the cello; very efficientand amazingly accurate and facile. At the same time his playing had a tremendouselegance. Rudolf Serkin once said 'Feuermann had a great deal of Viennese charm in his

playing.' "

___________________

1 “As They Knew Him” The Strad , 99 (April 1988): 315

Sophie Feuermann

Sophie Feuermann, the youngest of the Feuermann children, became an accomplished pianist. She began performing with her brother in 1927, and continued to collaboratewith him through 1938.

[Prior to the tape recorder being turned on, Ms. Feuermann explained that the name'Munio' was a version of Mendel, which was Feuermann's birth name, honoring hisrecently deceased maternal grandfather. She said that the name Emanuel was suggestedas a stage name by an agent, who thought that it created the correct association for a

prodigy, when he first began playing before the public ]

SF: Wherever I give speeches...I always start with explaining 'Munio'. Because Muniois not a pet name. In our background, there was no room for pet names, you know, we

just were improving. Our whole background is improving, which is very important.

...I can't stand biographies. Everything turns out always wrong. I don't know why. For

instance... Munio started cello when he was seven years old. Two years later, nine yearsold, he gave his first concert, the debut, and the next day -morning, people came -Imean very important people found out where my parents lived and wanted to meet thewonder. And that is very interesting because he played football, and so my mother sentmy oldest sister to football place and get him back. He didn't come. He wants to playfootball, which is wonderful, because we were absolutely never brought up assomething special. And that trait you hear in our playing, you know what I mean? Thisclear way, and not fuss and just the music and musicianship, you know? This is the way.But what is on the tapes? [Referring to a radio documentary] That his debut was 14years old with the Philharmonic in Vienna.

Q: How would you say that your musical thought, and his musical thought -your way of approaching pieces -is different from the way people approach pieces now?



A: If you read my script [Referring to a script for an educational video tape which hasnot as yet been produced, entitled "Conversations with Sophie Feuermann onMusicianship and Artistry"] you have all the answers, but I can tell you just basicallywhat I call- you have to live in the skin of the composer, and the difference between mytime and today is when you hear today, everything sounds alike because it just -Mozart's

father, Leopold, 250 years ago- I read only these originals. You see these? These are inown words. Beethoven, Mozart...-said that "Teachers are the worst because they don'tthink that one should learn, they only think of themselves, and they don't teachanything." You see, when I start, when I did teach beginners, I never had trouble -fromscratch. It's like upbringing of children. You can not really tell the children what to do,

but you give them the basis, the value, and then they have to do with it whatever they do-it's their development. And this is what is entirely lost, in everything -everything, yousee? And look at the culture. Look at the youngsters, how they look. Look how dirtythey look, how torn pants, everything, you see? The same thing is in music. I turned on-it was in my speech actually- I turned on by chance -I'm not a television person-however, I turned on the educational [channel] 13, you see, and here was a replay of

Rubinstein and Isaac Stern gave a master class in Jerusalem, and as I turned on thetelevision he was sitting there on the left side and the young girl -she must have played,which I didn't hear- and I hear him say (you know many pupils and friends called meafterwards, after this) [he] said "I don't know what has been going on for the last 50-60years" -he was already very old. He said "When I went at my age, when I was young,we made music. We played because we loved it, in music. Today, it's only fast" Andthis is the answer to your question, you know what I mean? Then comes Isaac Stern,and a young violinist stands up and starts a Bach Partita, and after a few bars -the way Ido it, you see- he stops him and he says "I don't know what has been going on for many,many years"- he wasn't that old yet. So he said "I have the feeling what the violinists-the instrumentalists- cannot get out of the instrument, they want to get out of their

body. That's why they move around." And I added to it 'I pity them when there's adouble mordent!' You know with their neck, you understand? It is disgusting. I cannotgo to concert anymore, nothing. And this is the difference, that they don't live in theskin of the composer. Each composer is a different individual, and not every artistshould play every composer. When Horowitz plays Mozart or Schubert it's a disaster,you know? But there will be one Horowitz in this -you know, and he plays other things,you know what I mean? And this is very important. This is the answer to this. Andwhen you live in the skin of the composer, where does it start? With your eyes. And yousee from the eyes, you have to see what the composer writes, and from the eyes it goesinto the head, and from the head it goes into the heart, and from the heart -Rubinstein

said the same thing- from the heart it goes into the arm and the main thing are the tips,you know what I mean? And that creates out of reading, musicianship. Then youdevelop artistry, and there are maybe a handful of artists in the whole world, but youhave to live in the skin of the composer.

Q: I also read what he [Feuermann] was saying, talking about the first approach to a piece being to analyze it by sight... and understand it. So when you would come torehearse together, how would you approach it?

A: We rehearsed very little. You know, I remember, because it's the same approach. Iremember in big cities...we had a big concert in Vienna, and it was on a Monday -I

remember like today- and he sent me one week before, on Monday, the whole musicand ... was the first performance of the Stravinsky, the Italian Suite...Then he arrived



Sunday evening, before Monday, the concert. And as we are sitting having dinner -I wasmarried and he stayed in my house- so he turns to me -you know I'm the kid sister andwe had a special relationship which Eva's mother and everyone was so jealous. They allhad one thing in mind. To break it, because they were jealous. You have no idea aboutmy suffering. And Munio's suffering. He would never have died if I had been there.

Never. So he says to me "Now what about tempos?" The Suite -the other things Iknew...Beethoven and Chopin sonata, everything. So I said "I'll tell you something. Isped it up to the metronome numbers, so you have freedom. You do what you want."Oh , he was delighted. And then it got to be the next day of the concert around fiveo'clock. He said "I'm tired. No more" So I said ''but what about the encores?" and hesaid "You will do it." So when we -there were of course terrific applause, etc and -youknow my reviews were very often much better than his, even, but I don't...there is noone like Munio, this cellist, you see. But as we walked on the stage to bow and he hadsome music in his hand, so I say "What is it?" So, I'm not sure -I have a feeling it musthave been the [Faure] Apres un Reve, because all he gave -I said "Give me the tempo!"-so on the door... he knocked like this. "This is the tempo." And it went off wonderful,

because we had...we understood in the musical level. But the main thing is that youhave to live in the skin of the composer and not play each composer the same way.Because then you play only yourself, you don't play the composer.

...[speaking about Feuermann's teaching] he was by nature a phenomenal teacher, bynature. It's always in our house, improvement, improvement. Not correcting, butimprovement, and that is very important, because it doesn't hurt the student. When yousay you have to improve, it's different from when you just hit him. You get thedifference? He was a very, very, very all round wonderful person.

Q: Compared to people in his time, what was the difference?

A: I mean the cello had not developed that much yet. Casals was the first one, and he[Feuermann], when he was 16 years old, he became professor in Cologne and theGürzenich Orchestra, he became the first in, and the Gürzenich conservatory. And hewalked into the office. The secretary-[Feuermann was] 16 years old- said "Get out of here! We're expecting Professor Feuermann." But of course at that time, he didn't whatyou call teach the way he taught later. Nothing wrong that he did, but it was not thatstrength -inner strength. If you want to know that he studied for two years in Leipzigwith Klengel. When he left Vienna, there came people to wish him well, you know theFeuermann family, so one of the old ladies that came said to him "You know Munio,

when you come back, I hope you will be a second Casals." He said, "Oh no. I want to bea first Feuermann." You know, not copying, not imitating others. Has to come from youyourself. With the basis that I explained to you, and this is decisive.

Q: Is there anything you noticed technically..

A: Havivi has his playing...Havivi is the one who has his tone, who has his reallymental level, everything. Marion Davis had exactly the same kind...You know what thetrick of Munio's -not trick, but the control, how he never -he practiced only the twoyears in Leipzig. He learned in one week all six partitas [Bach Suites] by heart. That'swhen he studied and when he played you never hear ...a change of bow. Never. And

everyone says, of course, he is. I respect Casals, but he doesn't want to be- first of all, hesay...It is a different world. But he only practiced, when we played together in the artist



room, only the beginning of the A major-legato [Sings the opening notes of theBeethoven sonata, Op.69] You see? That was the only thing I heard him always play inthe artists' room. And then he had an exercise...You see, his control was only came fromthe index finger. When I got married, my husband was play the piano very well.However, when people came, we play chamber music they wanted to play with me. And

that's not good in an -especially- young marriage, you know what I mean? So I reallysuggested, and he did it, and he was very intelligent and so and he switched to cello-started cello. When Munio came to Vienna, and stayed in my house he studied for twomonths -had studied. So I felt it's good to switch to cello because you can play Haydntrios -bim, bom, boom- you know what I mean, and so on and so forth. Munio gave myhusband his bow that disappeared. If I had that bow, you know, which was, where youhold it, completely bent, like this [indicates the area on the stick of the bow where theindex finger would rest] from his control of the index finger...That is the way hecontrolled the change of bow. And this bow proves what I am saying. His control wascompletely in the index finger, and when we were in the artists' room, all he did is theone exercise, and I show it to violins, I show it to cellists, to everything. You see you

hold the bow and [sings the beginning of a note] relax. Hold the bow, go back. But not pushing. Just starting, you know? Relax. and have the control completely here... Notlike this. You play like this never...There's no control, you see. One hears every changeand everything is the same. but never like this, you see? That what we called in outfamily...'watscheln' is like a dog that watschels. And that's what we call when camehome and, for instance, my father asked "How was it?" "Oh he watscheld." Then weknew what it meant. You see you don't play like this. Don't do that, please, don't do that.I know it's wrong. Because a legato can not be if you don't control by playing like this.Munio changed this playing 150 percent. This is when you say before Munio and thenwhen Munio played, changed the cello playing, the bowing completely.

Q: Except that it sometimes seems that nobody pays attention to what he did...

A: See that's terrible. Terrible. That was, before Munio's time, we know there was avery good -it was the Rose quartet- and there was the cellist, he was a nice andgood...and all, you see, but he played like this. This is not controlled. I teach on the

piano the same thing. You see you have to control Then I tell you another trick -secretof Munio's. Trill-you know the trill, when you listen to his trills, you see when it is -youknow how. I do the same thing on the piano always, this is why we could play hardlyrehearsing. When a trill comes, he puts his hand underneath the neck so that the fingershave the same distance control, and not like this and not like this...but not stiff, that you

control...but the trill, and this is when you control it...not to trill like this [demonstratesthe traditional type trill where the lower finger stay fixed and the higher finger oscillatesup and down], but to trill like this, that the distance of both fingers, whatever finger youtake, is the same to the piano, you know? ...

[SF:] ...the main thing is if you look at it, that you see what the composer wants. I doalways, I tell pupils when they go home on the bus "look at the music and hear it." Iknow once in my young years I studied a fugue, and at I night I woke up -I could notsee one bar. And in the morning, when I went to the piano, that bar I didn't know. Youknow what I mean? You have to really see it. So, what happened was, Munio wassupposed to play, to give a concert in Mainz, Germany, and when he arrived at the

railroad station at that time, he collapsed an had a sciatica attack. So he had no concert.He had to go to the hospital and stay, lie in bed absolutely flat, not moving three weeks.



No wait -what comes you will be surprised, because it's based on looking. So, then toldme all this, I mean I happened to be in Cologne, which is on the way. He had to play afirst performance in three weeks, just -and he had to stay in bed- but in three weeks, inParis. On his way to Paris, he had to change the train in Cologne, so I went to therailroad station and he said to me "You know, Sophie, I haven't touched that concerto,

not once. I only learned it lying down."

Q: Which concerto?

A: Oh no -I don't know. It was awful...so he said "I only learned it lying down andlooking at it. Learned it, but that my fingers have not touched one tone on the cello" Onhis way back, I saw him again, and he said "You know what happened? I played it. Thenext day. And the composer came in-now listen to that stupy -came in and embracedme" he said, "and said 'Feuermann, this is the way I dreamt it should be played, shouldsound.'" And Munio, in his honesty -he was very straight, the way we are. Straight, thatyou hear in his playing. Very straight- said "And you know, that was the first time I

played it on the cello. I only learned it lying down." That composer was hurt...and thatwas the end of the friendship...The main thing is that you see and look. Musicianshipstarts with the eyes. And you have to hear it. That's training. I train them from the

beginning like this.

Q: I guess it's a tendency nowadays, when someone sees something, the first thing theydo is try to put the bow on the strings...

A: I mean there's no comparison, the way they study today, because the playing is...they play better, I mean purely everything faster. I mean the technique is perfect, buttechnique is like accomplishment, but it is not musicianship. I'm not out for accomplishment only. And that's it.

Q: But Feuermann's tempos were fast...

A: Not fast. You have to give time. Have you the Don Quixote?...I like the Toscanini better. Some people like the Ormandy better. I like the Toscanini. I think this is reallyunique. I don't think that he played ever what you call faster. It wasn't his nature.

Q: Somehow it's more fluid...

A: It's more organic. Call it organic. You see, that's the legato. It goes from one into-you know what Michelangelo said? The same thing that has to do with artistry, yousee, musicianship. "When a sculpture rolls down a rock, and a piece falls off, that piecewas too much." And that is artistry. It has to be rounded out. This is like modern music.I listen to everything, but it'll never succeed because there is no rounded out beginningand endings that closes. Nothing. It's one next to -twelve tone music is one next to theother, but not into the other. Isn't that interesting? To me it's fascinating...Absolutelydifferent approach -it doesn't come from scratch. It's like upbringing of children...

...And Starker just runs on the cello, but he respected Munio. He said he was the king of the cellists. And who knows how Munio would have developed, what he would have

done, because he was a brilliant man and very much for learning, you know,



improvement. That's our background, improvement. Maybe it has to do with ghetto, youknow? Whatever it has to do with, it's right.

Q: Everyone says 'No one will ever play like that again' but it seems that nobody triesto...

A: To find out. I'm trying to tell you -and read my script too, and try to follow it. Of course it's a question a talent. You can not learn talent, but you can improve immensely.

Q: I read in what he wrote, where he said that he thinks it's as easy to play well as it is to play badly...

A: Yes, I mean in an exaggerated way. It's like it's just as easy not to be a murderer thanto be a murderer. You know it is the same. You have to know, and when I teach it's thesame thing. I compare every thing with life. When you make a crescendo -who is the

best one? The best conductor ever was Furtwängler. And Munio and I, we were just

excited when we hear Furtwängler. We learned most from him. When you make acrescendo, what it is tragedy today people do it, they start already loud. But the end,that's -the end is the very thing. When you make a diminuendo -I fight it like anything,

because it's wrong- they start already soft. But you have to know how many bars to youhave to get there, you follow? They take everything much too superficially.

The Physical and Interpretive

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