The Concert Pianist Read Online Free PDF Page B

mouth. He was not unthoughtful.
    â€˜It’s easy for you to be good boy,’ he said. ‘You are alone. Nobody cares if you do Internet porn or get drunk.’
    â€˜D’you really want to know what I thought of your concert?’
    Vadim swigged at his beer.
    â€˜Nobody else will say this to you.’
    The Russian suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Philip tightly by the hand. ‘You’re so marvellous, so happy, such wonderful pianist. Tell me the secret of how to live my life.’ He squeezed harder.
    Philip stared at him, his hand trapped.
    â€˜You were a god in the first half, and a charlatan in the second.’
    Vadim released the hand and flung himself back in his chair. He glowered for a moment.
    â€˜Good, I have range at least.’
    â€˜You’re ruining a great career.’
    â€˜I’m bored.’
    â€˜If that’s boring, you’re in deeper shit than I thought.’
    Vadim cracked a poppadom and flicked on some lime pickle. ‘Deep shit is quite interesting. You should try it. Because, Philip, you have to live. Even if it’s a mess. Monks do not make virtuosi.’
    â€˜You’re brilliant, but not great, Vadim. Greatness has to be earned the hard way.’
    â€˜Greatness is given by God. Not earned by sad workaholics.’
    â€˜Practice, reflection, dedication.’
    â€˜I’m not a priest!’ He was suddenly outraged. ‘I’ve been to hundred boring concerts by good-boy pianists who respect their teachers and think composers are gods. They get on and off planes. Check into hotel, play Chopin Ballade for millionth time, same boring interpretation, same reverence for music.’ He raised his voice. ‘Music does not come from this treadmill. Music comes from excitement, madness, energy. Not how much hours you practise. Not how humble and well behaved you are. Don’t believe this German bullshit propaganda!’
    â€˜ You complain about boring concerts. You’ve just given one!’
    He waved it off. ‘If I want to, I play better. I don’t want to, but for your relationship with John Sampson I do a big favour.’
    Philip was offended. ‘What about poor old Chopin? You didn’t do him a big favour.’
    â€˜ I sacrificed my childhood for dead men like Chopin. I don’t owe him anything.’
    â€˜Emotional negativity is affecting your playing. You’ve stopped feeling tenderness, love, happiness. It shows.’
    â€˜I’m bored. You are boring now. You are giving boring conversation.’
    â€˜Your lack of empathy for people is reflected by a lack of empathy for music outside the Russian tradition.’
    â€˜I take the train back.’ Vadim made to rise.
    â€˜What!’
    â€˜I am not your student.’
    Philip was startled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! We’re having a conversation.’ He reached over to grab his forearm but Vadim pulled back. ‘You’re going to end up like me if you’re not careful. Solitary and middle-aged and . . . Sit down!’
    â€˜You’re jealous.’
    â€˜What!’
    â€˜Always I have jealous friends. They want me to do this, that, how best I should live, play the piano, what to do with my talent. Nobody plays these pieces like me. Maybe two other pianists in the world.’
    Philip stared at him in disbelief.
    â€˜Nobody can tell me where to go. How to live my life. I don’t have to obey the rules for depressed English pianist.’
    Philip’s heart pounded. He felt the hostile force of Vadim’s self-confidence.
    â€˜To hell with your morals and your advice.’
    â€˜Listen to me . . .’
    â€˜ I’m not listening to you.’
    Vadim pulled away, tossing the napkin down. ‘Philip, stop telling other people how to live. Get a life yourself.’
    He pulled some banknotes from his pocket and left them on the table.
    â€˜Where are you going?’
    â€˜