"I Still Love Music Even After All This Time"

You have called yourself lucky, though your early career in the Soviet Union was not easy. After the initial rapid successes you spent two years shovelling cement in a labour camp.

 It was a huge learning curve. Of course, I would never wish it on anyone, but I certainly learned more about life there than if I had spent those years in concert. It is extremely important to see the positive in whatever fate deals out to us. Children, too, have to go through certain illnesses in order to acquire immunity. Vicissitudes strengthen the person. I don’t regret anything that has happened in my life, and I would even say that I am grateful for everything.

Your talent propelled you to two great cellists of the 20th century, Rostropovich and Piatigorsky. What did you learn from them?

 I could write a whole book about this, it is difficult to give a short answer. Yet the main message from both was never to forget that the cello, or indeed any other instrument, is just a means to an end, that is, music. We must use our talent and knowledge to express music, and not the other way round, in other words, not to show how clever we are with music. Today, unfortunately, this often happens, because competitions are so tough, the technical standards are so high, that young musicians think they can stand out from the crowd by playing ever louder and faster, making the music itself secondary.

Unlike your masters, you do not teach, which very many young cellists most certainly regret.

It depends what you call teaching. When people come to me after a concert and ask me whether I could teach them, I always reply: I’ve just taught you. Although I occasionally give short master classes if I have to, I cannot undertake regular teaching because I spend too much time giving concerts and travelling. I have a large family – my sixth child was born recently – and they are at least as important to me as music, and I would like to spend more time with them. A person has to consider what he is best at. There are so many who teach far, far better than I could, so I leave it to them. I believe I can give more to those wishing to learn through my playing than by teaching. I also feel that I myself have not learned enough to be teaching others – perhaps I’ll be ready for it in 20–30 years... But joking aside, I really do not know much about playing the cello. I cannot explain why I hold the bow in the way I do, and whether it should be held like this. Indeed, I would even go as far as to say that it’s all the same how somebody approaches the instrument just as long as they play it well. I’ve always considered myself part amateur, even more so since in Russian ‘amateur’ means music lover. Incredible as it may sound, I still love music even after all this time.

Mischa Maisky (Fotó: Mat Hennek / Deutsche Grammophon)

You play on an 18th century Montagnana cello, which found its way to you in amazing circumstances. How would you characterize the instrument?

We met forty-two years ago and it was love at first sight. We have not parted since then, and I celebrate our meeting in November of every year. Montagnana was a Venetian violin maker, and his instruments differ considerably from the instruments of the Cremona masters. I have played on Stradivarius cellos on a few occasions, and I always felt that I was on formal terms with these instruments: they have some sort of aloofness. The Montagnanas are warmer, more intimate, informal.

Musicians these days have to do many things that have little to do with music in order to gain coverage and for the sake of success. They have to stand out in looks and style. Where is the limit?

 Like in everything here too a balance has to be reached. There is nothing wrong in itself when somebody promotes themselves with dozens of great photos, the problem starts when there is nothing behind this. The quality of the music is all that matters. Fine products also have to be packaged properly, but it is not possible to substitute musical content for looks; appearance is a matter of good taste.

You are always said to play everything romantically. How is this?

Once again, it all depends on what one calls romantic. If it is a rich emotional expression, then I would say that what today we call early music is similarly packed with emotions. Baroque music is extremely passionate and emotional. Pablo Casals said that there is no human emotion that isn’t found in Bach. According to Horowitz, all music is essentially romantic. Of course, I’m not saying that I would play Bach in the same way as Schumann or Shostakovich – and certainly not that my interpretation would be the ‘correct’ one. The greater a piece of music, the more ways it can be performed. Nobody can say they know what the ‘truth’ is! The point is that the playing should never be boring or ugly. Unfortunately, most people are scared of being different – they consider it dangerous – and this is the case not only in music: this is how the great conflicts of history start. Instead, we should be pleased by diversity because this gives life richness.

Judit Rácz