The Romanian pianist Radu Lupu has died at his home in
Switzerland, aged 76. Although the precise cause of death is not known, it has
been reported in the Romanian press that it could have been from several
medical conditions from which he had been suffering for some time. Certainly,
ill health was mentioned as a factor when he retired from the stage in 2019.
Those that knew him confided that it irked him that he had to increasingly
cancel commitments and was rather dissatisfied with the standards of those performances
he did give in his final years.
My own knowledge of Radu Lupu’s art came first from his recordings.
For many of his admirers, there are far too few of them. He played just one of
the Brahms concertos and is reputed to have rebuffed requests from Decca to
learn the other one by saying it would require too much effort. Much of the
repertoire is standard fare – the Grieg and Schumann concertos with Previn,
etc. – but the standard is always high. His Schubert was revered by many, but
not all. I know one Schubert aficionado, who repeatedly bemoaned, “I wish he
would play it and not just fuss around the edges.”
I once knew a photographer fresh out of the Royal College of Art who was hired by Decca to take the cover image for Lupu’s recording of Brahms’ Two Rhapsodies, Op. 79; Piano Pieces, Opp. 117-119. Warned by Decca that he could be a prickly character, the shoot was carefully planned and scheduled to take place shortly after a rare recital at Wigmore Hall. Lupu arrived and was slow to settle; once he did though he was amiable and witty. It took some time before his unkempt hair met a comb. His coat was unceremoniously left on the coat stand that was to appear in shot. A score for one of the Brahms pieces from the recording was intentionally placed in a coat pocket; however, he noticed, and insisted that the score be left open at a different page to coincide with a passage he felt he had played better. At his insistence, no piano music was to be played in the background during the photo shoot.
Around the mid-1990s, if memory serves, I heard Lupu perform a Mozart concerto at the Royal Festival Hall under the baton of long-time collaborator, particularly in the United States, Carlo Maria Giulini. After walking swiftly to his seat, he delivered it with the greatest economy of means and a total awareness of style.
I reviewed a performance by Lupu only once. In December 2006, I travelled to Amsterdam for a concert at the Concertgebouw by the George Enescu Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of its then Music Director, Cristian Mandeal. The programme featured Enescu’s First Orchestral Suite and Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances, with Beethoven’s Fifth Piano Concerto. My entire review of the concerto was as follows:
“Beethoven’s fifth piano concerto was given the most individual reading I can recall hearing for ages. Lupu (who looks ever more like Brahms!) matched the orchestra’s grand opening tutti in his opening finesse. The work progressed in the first movement at a moderate pace, allowing much colour to come out in the orchestration. Lupu’s playing of the solo part reminded us of a style of Beethoven interpretation from another age – by turns involved and committed, but mixed with passages that were almost against the big-boned Beethoven many would recognize today. Whilst impetuous and sensitive in equal measure, his playing related well to the orchestral context; indeed he maintained close eye contact with individual orchestra members as well as with Mandeal throughout. The middle movement was notable for the broad legato lines in the orchestra and Lupu’s discrete, evenly fingered contribution. If the link to the final movement was thought by some to be over-tentative, then there was much contrast to be had once the finale got fully into its stride. Lupu and Mandeal relished the nuances of interplay to be found among the grander gestures to produce a thrilling conclusion to the work.”
Incidentally, it is
interesting to listen to Lupu’s recordings of the work – one for Decca and the
other, made earlier, under the baton of Iosef Conta in Romania (released on
Electrecord). That same jewel-like clarity of approach is always present.
In 2008, I heard Lupu play Bartόk's Third Piano Concerto, with the Hallé once again under Cristian Mandeal’s baton. By this stage, his appearance was more like that of another famous Romanian, the sculptor Constantin Brancusi. A work that Lupu clearly loved, the performance was notable for his directness of approach and clarity of tone. That the piano is essentially a percussive instrument was beyond doubt, but some Bartόk aficionados felt that the performance offered new aspects of interpretation upon the work.
In 2018, it was announced that Mandeal and Lupu would again join forces for concerts in Paris, Geneva and Romania, but Lupu’s retirement prevented this collaboration with the conductor (surely an under-rated conductor of superb erudition, technical facility and musical sensitivity) who had been a friend since their student days in Brasov. Fazil Say was Lupu’s replacement for those concerts.
Around a decade ago, I and several music lovers I knew at the Romanian Cultural Institute in London tried to persuade the management there to approach Lupu to offer a solo recital, with a carte blanche programme. Sadly, the plan came to nothing. The Institute’s Steinway baby grand might be slightly the worse for wear, but was bought by Lipatti for the venue in Belgrave Square and, when well tuned, had a luminescence of tone that I still feel would have suited Lupu’s ever-delicate touch superbly.
Radu Lupu was born on November 30, 1945, in Galaţi. At the age of 6 he started studying piano with Lia Busuioceanu and at the age of 12 he started with a complete music program composed by himself. He attends high school in Galaţi. After graduating from the Popular Art School in Brasov, she continued her studies in Bucharest, with Florica Musicescu and Cella Delavrancea. At the age of 16, in 1961, he received a scholarship to the Moscow Conservatory.
Even today in Romania, many say that Lupu is
under-appreciated there, no doubt because of the slender number of performances
he gave there. He played some Enescu in his younger days, not much though, and
never returned to the composer, to the best of my knowledge. International fame
and engagements followed wins at the Van Cliburn International Piano
Competition in 1966 and the Leeds International Pianoforte Competition in 1969. He was awarded a CBE for services to music.
Some of the reactions to his death reflect the esteem in
which Radu Lupu is held:
George Enescu International Festival: "In 1967, the
incredible Romanian pianist and composer won the grand prize of the George
Enescu International Competition. We will forever cherish his amazing way of
turning music into magic. Words are not enough to express our sadness for this
loss of the whole musical world. Master Radu Lupu will forever remain in our
memory and in our hearts - a true legend." (Facebook)
Angela Gheorghiu: "I am deeply saddened by the passing
of legendary pianist and my dear compatriot, Radu Lupu. It was wonderful to
have spent great moments together with Radu throughout the years. He will
remain a sublime and unique artist, perhaps too little known in Romania, but an
unsurpassable musical genius of this world. May his soul rest in peace, his
immense artistry will live forever. I send my sincere condolences to his
wife." (Twitter)
Steven Isserlis: "I am devastated to learn that Radu
Lupu has left us. He was not only one of the greatest, warmest and most
profound musicians I have ever heard, but also a very good man, full of
compassion, modest and funny, and a wonderful friend." (Twitter)
If one thing can be said with certainty about Radu Lupu, it is
that he was a unique exponent of his instrument. He knew what he wanted to
achieve, how to achieve it and was immovable from that objective. There really
is very little wrong with being true to one’s self.
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