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When the eighty-seven-year-old American pianist Earl Wild gave a recital the other day at the Mannes College of Music, on West Eighty-fifth Street, as part of a piano festival, he walked onto the stage with the aspect of a man who has earned the right to misbehave a little. Tall, with glowing white hair, he affected bashful surprise when applauded, and thoroughly seduced his audience before he even sat at the piano.
Wild is famous for his dazzling technique and also for his unusual repertoire choices--he was nominated for a Grammy this year for the first ever recording of a series of piano miniatures by Reynaldo Hahn, a composer best known for being a friend of Proust. If the years had brought a slight stiffness to the shoulders, Wild's fingerwork remained unimpaired, and he seemed, when playing, to have the hands of a fifty-year-old. As an encore, he played a transcription of the "Mexican Hat Dance," which he recently composed. The piece, silly but ingenious, drew gasps and laughter in equal measure.
In an onstage interview after the concert, Wild was asked about "the issue of longevity," and got a big laugh straight off with his mock-indignant expression. "The sad thing about being as old as I am is that so many colleagues are dead," he said. "You miss the old bitchery." (There was, however, some contemporary bitchery, with Wild complaining about the "Brendelization" of piano playing today and calling Lang Lang, a highly publicized young player, "the J. Lo of the piano.") Many questions focussed on Wild's tendency to make slight alterations to the pieces he plays. Asked what he thought about fidelity to the score, he said, "Fidelity is such an ugly word."
The next day, Wild returned to the ...