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Salient: Victoria University Students' Paper. Vol. 24, No. 14. 1961.

Fine Arts Section — Abbey Simon Interviewed

page 4

Fine Arts Section

Abbey Simon Interviewed

This interview with the American pianist. Abbey Simon, to have been included in the last issue of Salient. Due to pressure of space it has been held over. We hope it has lost none of its topicality.

American pianist Abbey Simon, who has just completed a full and spectacular tour of New Zealand, has left Wellington to catch its breath and gone back to America. He opens in Peru on August 12.

Preceded by sparse sputters of unintelligent publicity, soon supplemented by word-of-mouth enthusiasm, Abbey Simon's performances were their own advertisement. New Zealand soon found that he has a very personal, electric style which after an hour can transform the coldest, most conventional audience into a crowd of Abbey Simon fanatics.

Salient cornered the man behind the dramatic technique in the tranquil stillness of Nelson Airport and found that, whether quiet or surrounded by a clucking, admiring audience, he is relaxed, charming and humorous.

Abbey Simon arranges his programmes without consciously pandering to public opinion; says vaguely that he strives for contrast and balance. He likes all composers about equally and believes that most pianists* prefer to maintain similarly rounded tastes. We commented that he seems to infuse some music with his personality more than he does other music. Pianists should always project their personalities, said Mr. Simon, the value of the pianist can be assessed by his ability to digest the music and then add to it something of his own. Can a pianist become musically mature? Never, says Mr. Simon. You always need more of something.

Abbey Simon.

Abbey Simon.

Abbey Simon disclaims the idea that women pianists are handicapped by having less of the physical energy necessary to a concert pianist. The only possible disadvantage they suffer is financial, where scholarships are generally awarded to men. We commented that this was surprising, in view of the dynamic strength so characteristic of his own playing, but while acknowledging his own tremendous expenditure of energy on the piano, Abbey Simon does not find it in any way remarkable. "I am doing what I like to do," he explained simply. "All artists have a certain drive which keeps them going; work becomes a habit."

In the best musical tradition, Abbey Simon began to play the piano at the age of three, and never wanted to be anything but a pianist. He earned admittance to world-famous Curtis Institute In Philadelphia when he was eight, although illness prevented him from beginning his studies there until he was eleven. He made a New York debut in 1948 and since then has played with most of the world's great orchestras, feeling equally at home in Europe or Latin America.

Salient asked Mr. Simon just what an artist does when he retires to the wings between sections of the programme. "He curses," said Mr. Simon with wry humour, "himself and other things."

It was inevitable that we should succumb to the bad New Zealand habit of asking visitors what they think of New Zealand. Abbey Simon, luckily, had something nice to say; there was a beautiful new Steinway piano in many of the centres he visited, and that, he said, is the pianist's dream. The standard of the piano makes a big difference to the pianist's enjoyment of the concert—Mr. Simon told us that in Australia he had struck so many poor pianos that he only enjoyed about 15 of his 44 recitals.

Another important factor is the audience. We New Zealanders do not stand out as considerate theatre-goers; there is far too much noise. Abbey Simon said three concerts has been particularly bad in this respect, the first Christchurch one, the one at Invercargill and the already - publicised Wellington evening when the Town Hall, long famous for its novelty accompaniments (remember poor Patrick Flynn?) turned on bells for the visiting pianist. That, said Mr. Simon, was The End. Salient agrees: it is time New Zealand showed a little tangible respect for international artists both by providing proper facilities and by learning to sit for an hour or so without loudly coughing, whispering and eating. The American pianist pointed out that as a student, if he had to go to a concert with bronchitis or some other affliction, he would manage to cough and choke to himself without uttering a sound. "Whereas one man in Invercargill," said Abbey Simon grimly, "—well, if he lived through the programme I should be most surprised. Each cough made it increasingly obvious that he was in the final stage of tuberculosis, and I doubt—I hope—he didn't survive the evening . . ."

—L.L.C.