I am currently reading "The Art of Piano Playing" by Heinrich Neuhaus. Being only partway through the book, take my thoughts with a grain of salt. The man may, later in the book, clarify any one of the takes to which I'll refer.
In an early chapter on "The Artistic Image" he argues for a type of playing in which the music "possesses" the performer. He desires a performance that is not so much a creation of the music but the expression of the music that lives within. The spirit of the piece must inhabit you, move your fingers, guides your expression. You do not create the music; the music creates you.
Being a Christian, I am immediately concerned by "possession" language. Where possible, I avoid this type of description when representing something good. Still, I would be willing to let the undesired terminology pass were it not rather clear that "possession" (in a truly demonic sense) is what occurs in some extraordinary pianists' performances.
Consider this description of Russian pianist Daniil Trifonov:
Watch him perform and at times he seems almost possessed, demonically rising from the keyboard and plunging back into it with tremendous power and physical agility.
Great Performers: Daniil Trifonov, Interlude
Having seen many videos of this man's performances, I could not agree more; and yet I say it with disapproval. Is it really necessary to 'sell your soul' to the piece of music in order to reproduce it beautifully? Compare two performances of the same piece, one of which illustrates 'possession', the other of which, I believe, is more normal.
Daniil Trifonov – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYAb2FeIlLA
Yunchan Lim – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ifk5Swd8WHk
These are two performances of Franz Liszt's Feux Follets, one of the most difficult of the Transcendental Etudes. The contrast, in my opinion, could not be sharper between the two. Where Trifonov seems to 'manifest' the music, allowing it to simply flow from him (and after that, it's on it's own), Lim has clearly listened to the music he is creating during practice and can hear it playing as a track as he plays. The music exists outside of Lim: he can look at it, respect it, critique it, alter it, and enjoy it. Trifonov, on the other hand, appears entirely at the mercy of whatever his body does in the moment, which in turn seems to be driven by the unfiltered expression of something I can only describe as 'musical lust.'
The result? Lim's performance is miles ahead in musical expression, and (added bonus) he doesn't look like a fool while doing it.
Applying this to everyday teaching takes a little tact, for I would not want to claim that any of my students are ever 'possessed'. Yet it is a common error I see in students that they allow themselves to become controlled by one or other aspect of their own performance. Most frequently, it is the desire to impress. Being so invested in their own impressiveness, their own prowess, their own accomplishment, the music itself takes second or third place––if it is thought of at all.
Music is a gift that is given to us. We ought not belong to it.
