German musician Félix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy had it all in his short life. The son of banker parents, after some squeamishness his father accompanied him in the idea of becoming a professional musician. Félix accomplished his goal rapidly: at 17 he had already composed the overture for the Shakespearean drama Dream of a Summer Night and at 23 was known in all major European capitals as a concert pianist, conductor and composer. Later, he would happily marry (for only eleven years, sadly) the most beautiful, cultured, and pious girl in Frankfurt.
At Goethe's
So that in his early times everything was going great for Felix. His teacher Carl Friedrich Zelter, a friend of the poet Goethe and somehow his assistant in the art of music, introduced him to the bard's house in 1821. Felix was twelve years old and Zelter was one having a long history vetoing musicians who used to send to the poet his poems musicalized requesting his permission and moral support.
But this was not the case with Mendelssohn. The bard was delighted with that bright and young guest. In November of that year, little Felix wrote to his parents: "I make more music here than at home. Every day after dinner, Goethe opens the piano and says to me: I still haven't heard you today, make a little noise for me".
Notwithstanding the age difference, Mendelssohn's relationship with Goethe will last until his death in 1832. Meanwhile, Félix is going to set several of his poems to music, something that neither Schubert, Beethoven nor Berlioz were able to do. In addition to relentless, the assistant Zelter did not have a good eye.
Rondo Capriccioso, opus 14
The Rondó Capriccio is a piano work composed around 1827 (that is, at eighteen). The work has been highly praised for its beautiful romantic pieces although it seems to be built on brilliance, for the performer's brilliance. The vigorous octaves at the end are proof of this and that is why today it is performed almost exclusively in piano competitions, to gauge the performer's virtuosity.
Therefore, it is quite a novelty to come upon this rendition by the Chilean pianist Claudio Arrau, very young, in a television or radio studio, probably in the United States. We have no further information on the recording. One can only imagine a few things: that Arrau will be about thirty-five years old; that the recording may have been damaged and some cuts were made. Still, it is absolutely worth it. It is shocking to see the serenity of Arrau at the end of the piece. Unlike some of his colleagues, there is no indication in him that his performance has involved a superhuman effort that transported him to an ethereal world from which he must painfully return to the physical world that we all share.
