This past weekend I had one of the most moving musical experiences of my life. I had the pleasure of hearing one of my oldest friends, a renowned classical pianist with whom I'd lost touch for almost a decade and a half, perform live. The last time I'd heard him perform, we were seventeen and he was playing the Rachmaninoff Third Concerto. This time he played Janacek, Chopin, and Beethoven. The pieces, especially the Beethoven, required an immense amount of virtuosity. I'd been hearing him play since he was five, so I was in no way surprised at his technical mastery. But I was struck by the similarities and differences between this performance and the earlier one's I'd seen. The more somber, politically-tinged Janacek pieces indicated a depth and maturity of playing that had clearly been honed with time and life experience, while the vivacious runs of the Beethoven final movements, not to mention the constant, impassioned swaying throughout the concert, highlighted the same unadulterated passion and enthusiasm (downright glee, if the tempo was fast enough) that had always marked his playing.
I met him for breakfast the next morning and my impression of this duality was the same. The fundamentals were still there. He was the same earnest, kind, modest person I'd remembered. But, he had evolved even more than his playing. After years of youthful awkwardness, he'd developed into someone confident, content, and poised, coming into his own in a way that was satisfying and, I might even say, vindicating. It was truly delightful to experience.
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