A Humid Recital Stirs Bangkok
The recital, last evening in the chamber music room of the Erawan
Hotel by U.S. Pianist Myron Kropp, the first appearance of Mr. Kropp
in Bangkok, can only be described by this reviewer and those who
witnessed Mr. Kropp's performance as one of the most interesting
experiences in a very long time.
A hush fell over the room as Mr. Kropp appeared from the right of
the stage, attired in black formal evening-wear with a small white
poppy in his lapel. With sparse, sandy hair, a sallow complexion and
a deceptively frail looking frame, the man who has re-popularized
Johann Sebastian Bach approached the Baldwin Concert Grand, bowed to
the audience and placed himself upon the stool.
It might be appropriate to insert at this juncture that many
pianists, including Mr. Kropp, prefer a bench, maintaining that on a
screw-type stool, they sometimes find themselves turning sideways
during a particularly expressive strain. There was a slight delay, in
fact, as Mr Kropp left the stage briefly, apparently in search of a
bench, but returned when informed that there was none.
As I have mentioned on several other occasions, the Baldwin Concert
Grand, while basically a fine instrument, needs constant attention,
particularly in a climate such as Bangkok. This is even more true
when the instrument is as old as the one provided in the chamber music
room of the Erawan Hotel. In this humidity, the felts which separate
the white keys from the black tend to swell, causing an occasional key
to stick, which apparently was the case last evening with the D in the
second octave.
During the "raging storm" section of the D-Minor Toccata and Fugue,
Mr. Kropp must be complimented for putting up with the awkward D.
However, by the time the "storm" was past and he had gotten into the
Prelude and Fugue in D Major, in which the second octave D plays a
major role, Mr. Kropp's patience was wearing thin.
Some who attended the performance later questioned whether the
awkward key justified some of the language which was heard coming from
the stage during softer passages of the fugue. However, one member of
the audience, who had sent his children out of the room by the midway
point of the fugue, had a valid point when he commented over the music
and extemporaneous remarks of Mr. Kropp that the workman who had
greased the stool might have done better to use some of the grease on
the second octave D. Indeed, Mr. Kropp's stool had more than enough
grease and during one passage in which the music and lyrics were both
particularly violent, Mr. Kropp was turned completely around.
Whereas before his remarks had been aimed largely at the piano and
were therefore somewhat muted, to his surprise and that of those in
the chamber music room he found himself addressing himself directly to
the audience.
But such things do happen, and the person who began to laugh
deserves to be severely reprimanded for this undignified behavior.
Unfortunately, laughter is contagious, and by the time it had subsided
and the audience had regained its composure Mr. Kropp appeared
somewhat shaken. Nevertheless, he swiveled himself back into position
facing the piano and, leaving the D Major Fugue unfinished, commenced
on the Fantasia and Fugue in G Minor.
Why the concert grand piano's G key in the third octave chose that
particular time to begin sticking I hesitate to guess. However, it is
certainly safe to say that Mr. Kropp himself did nothing to help
matters when he began using his feet to kick the lower portion of the
piano instead of operating the pedals as is generally done.
Possibly it was this jarring or the un-Bach-like hammering to which
the sticking keyboard was being subjected. Something caused the right
front leg of the piano to buckle slightly inward, leaving the entire
instrument listing at approximately a 35-degree angle from that which
is normal. A gasp went up from the audience, for if the piano had
actually fallen several of Mr. Kropp's toes if not both his feet,
would surely have been broken.
It was with a sigh of relief therefore, that the audience saw Mr.
Kropp slowly rise from his stool and leave the stage. A few men in
the back of the room began clapping and when Mr. Kropp reappeared a
moment later it seemed he was responding to the ovation. Apparently,
however, he had left to get a red-handled fire ax which was hung back
stage in case of fire, for that was what was in his hand.
My first reaction at seeing Mr. Kropp begin to chop at the left
leg of the grand piano was that he was attempting to make it tilt at
the same angle as the right leg and thereby correct the list.
However, when the weakened legs finally collapsed altogether with a
great crash and Mr. Kropp continued to chop, it became obvious to all
that he had no intention of going on with the concert.
The ushers, who had heard the snapping of piano wires and
splintering of sounding board from the dining room, came rushing in
and, with the help of the hotel manager, two Indian watchmen and a
passing police corporal, finally succeeded in disarming Mr. Kropp and
dragging him off the stage.