Andrei Pays Homage to Bach
by Benjamin Chee
The first thing someone at the SSO asks me as I arrive at the concert hall is, "Have you seen Gavrilov ?" Before I can clarify whether she means if I know where he is or if I have seen what he looks like, she answers herself: "He doesn't look like his pictures at all."
Andrei Gavrilov, indeed, does not look like your typical classical musician. Loud Hawai'ian shirt, rings on his fingers, a humungous dangly pendant and a second gold chain around the neck, hair pulled into ponytail and Hush Puppies. Someone could seriously mistake him for a rock star. He has anything but an rock star's attitude when we talk to him, though.
We meet four days before his (quote-unquote) Gala Concert and he's wandering around the corridor leading backstage, looking at all the students setting up for a Youth Festival concert. "The Victoria Concert Hall is a popular location for school and amateur concerts on weekday nights," I tell him. "Last evening they were doing the Yellow River Cantata."
He nods knowingly at the amount of activity that's going on through his shades. "I wish we could have played to more people," he says, gesturing at the auditorium. His English is excellent. "Eight hundred is nothing, we should be doing two thousand." He may be alluding to the new concert hall at the Esplanade which is going to seat a thousand six.
We ask him how long he's taken to prepare the Rach 3. "Oh, about three weeks. You know, I have to prepare about five to seven concert programmes now, it's all the summer music festivals I'm doing." After emergence from his five-year hiatus, it's not surprising that Andrei is in such great demand.
We tell him about Friday - exactly 250 years to the day that Bach passed away. He knows it, "And I don't know why your guys asked me to play Rachmaninov. We could have done something else instead, more meaningful."
"Why don't you play Bach for an encore, then?" He thinks over my suggestion, then says, "Yeah, I wish I could play all the preludes and fugues. Well, maybe a couple of them; do something in his memory."
Friday night, backstage two hours before the concert. I'm finishing a meeting in the meeting room that doubles as the soloists' dressing room during concert nights. Andrei comes in, Fonz-like, and declares, "After tonight's concert, I'm going to let all the orchestra members off, then I'll play the Forty-Eight. Not both books - I don't like the second one as much - but the first one."
My first thought was: that's going to take two hours or so. And, as if reading my mind, he elaborates, "Well, I don't like to do encores, and I think it's too mean to just do one prelude or two. I should play the entire Well-Tempered Clavier, just the first book or maybe the first five preludes and fugues. We can invite whoever wants to stay, they don't have to pay anything, I'm doing this for free, and I'll play us some Bach."
And so he did.
thought that was quite interesting