Today I heard a great pianist. It was a great privilege.

The name György Sándor will be familiar to most who have more than a passing interest in pianists, yet inexplicably when Phillips chose to put together their Great Pianists of the Century series, his name was unjustly left out, together with compatriot Annie Fischer, Mieczyslaw Horszowski and Rosenthal, as well as the late Ronald Smith.

(left: Mr György Sándor, delivering a masterclass)

True, Maestro Sándor does not have a reliable technique any more; far from that – the ravages of age, a severe heart attack in December of 2002 and an operation to the spine, coupled with the burden of an injury to his left hand due to a fall in the bathroom of his hotel just the night before conspired to render his playing laboured in many places. Indeed, I have never before watched a concert where the pianist’s technique was so inadequately matched to the artistry. Nor is Mr Sándor’s memory, it must be admitted, the way it used to be – a memory lapse in the coda of the second movement of the Schumann left me for a few dreadful moments fearful for his well-being.

But somehow all these concerns were swept away in the heat of performance. Listening to him, I was reminded of listening to a late recording of the great Pablo Casals play Beethoven’s A major sonata (with Serkin) – his technique was damaged, his intonation suspect, but the musical gestures behind his every phrase were so wonderfully thought out. Similarly, Maestro Sándor’s ill-health prevented him from fully expressing the ferocity and anger in the first movement of the sonata, but the musical gestures behind the notes were more than adequate to put across what he meant. For some sparkling moments throughout the concert, there were flashes of what might have been possible had Maestro Sándor been in good health.

Nor did his infirmity hinder his interpretation totally. Like a true artist, Maestro Sándor took this personal frailty, coupled with the wealth of his experience in all these works and made it part of his interpretation. I now think that it is impossible to understand the transcendental behind the last movement of Beethoven’s last sonata unless one has experienced illness, but for just one time, Maestro Sándor took us there. His Herculean effort in playing the whole sonata in the face of such difficulties made the experience even more moving.

(above: Mr Sandor as a young man)

But it was the Fantasie by Schumann that proved the highlight of the evening. Again, the temperament and grasp of the structure of the music put paid to all concerns. Maestro Sándor brought out the haunting, fantastic quality that makes Schumann’s music so captivating. He also had a strong sense of the logic behind the music that so many gloss over and if certain areas lacked the robustness which could have been, the big picture and the long line were always evident. What emerged was a definitely Romantic reading, tempered by a Classical toughness and flexibility. The movement can become overblown or lax in the hands of the wrong pianists, here it hung together beautifully.

Curiously, his ability to make the piano sing and his legato technique have scarcely been impaired, and in all the slow movements of tonight, this was what mattered. This was especially important in the Schumann. The opening of the last movement was as hushed and lushly beautiful as it should have been, but when the second subject with all chastity and purity of Schumann’s love for Clara Wieck came in, I found myself moved to tears. For the duration of the last movement, time stood still.

When it ended, a stunned applause came in. It was only Maestro Sándor’s quick return to the bench that cut it short. To me, his battles with the second movement were a supreme tussle of mind and body. The flesh may have been weak but the spirit was so willing. Perfection is good and desirable, yes, but there is something more important to be learnt from our failures, and that is humanity.
Maestro Sándor rounded off the program with a superb performance of the fourth movement of the piano transcription of Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra and that of the Dance Suite, which here had all the freeness and lack of artifice that sometimes comes with modern pianists. He played Bartók as one would play a friend’s works, but with the colour and sense of rhythm that comes only with a lifetime of experience with it. All the humour in the Concerto transcription came through so immediately I had to stifle my guffaw.
(above: the famous photograph of Mr Bartók with Mr Sándor)

The audience rose almost as one to give Maestro Sándor a standing ovation.

Maestro Sándor very generously topped what was an exhausting and demanding program, for a man of any age, I might add, with three encores, Chopin’s Mazurkas Op.59 F-sharp minor and Op.33 No.2 in D major as well as his own transcription of the Aria from Bach’s Toccata, Adagio and Fugue BWV564. The Chopin was robust yet with that keen sense of rubato, the Bach was pure as spring water.

It is very difficult to write about someone when you know that it might very possibly be the last time you will see him again. (Maestro Sándor is 92 this year) Though I have met him Maestro Sándor but once, the memory of this meeting will always stay with me. I wish him a speedy recovery for his hand, and I wish him well in everything he does.