【古殿唱片音樂故事】滾石樂團請來的那位古典鋼琴家，他只想再給你一首安可曲：一位哲學鋼琴家的短暫生命祭典
古殿殿主
一九六八年十二月某個夜晚，倫敦，一個搖滾演唱會的後台。
滾石樂團正在籌辦他們的 「搖滾馬戲團」（Rock and Roll Circus)——那是一個有馬戲、有火焰、有約翰‧藍儂(John Lennon,1940-1980)的瘋狂聚會。就在一群搖滾明星準備上台的間隙，樂團創始團員瓊斯(Brian Jones,1942-1969) 走到麥克風前說：「請歡迎——朱利葉斯 卡欽（Julius Katchen,1926-1969）！」
然後，穿著燕尾服的卡欽走上舞台，坐在鋼琴前，在那群參與的觀眾面前，演奏了德法雅的《火祭之舞》。
沒有人知道他其實已經病了。
四個月後，他因癌症在巴黎的家中去世，年僅四十二歲。
那首《火祭之舞》，七年前，他已經把它放進了一張橙色銀字標籤的英國 Decca 黑膠裡。
那張唱片叫《Encores》——安可曲集。
當時是一九六一年，他三十四歲，Decca 的錄音室在倫敦西漢普斯特德。卡欽做了一件錄音史上非常罕見的事：他拒絕在空的錄音室裡演奏。他說，安可曲不是一個人對著麥克風說的話——它是一個演奏者在音樂會結束後，對著一個剛剛和他共度兩個小時的聽眾，最後說的那句話。
所以他邀請了一群朋友來現場當觀眾陪他錄音。
那些朋友的呼吸聲，那個六月倫敦下午的空氣，連同那十二首曲子——全部一起被錄進的音樂裡。
由於他在1969年去世至今已近60年，對許多人來說他可能一位從未聽說過的鋼琴家。
2016年Decca為紀念他的90歲冥誕，曾以三十五張 CD 的篇幅為他出版完整錄音全集。
但如果你是那種相信「一個人的全部，只能在他還在的時候才能聽見」的人，你就會理解為什麼這四張黑膠如此珍貴。
卡欽是誰？
卡欽1
926年出生在美國紐澤西州長灘，祖父母是從歐洲移民到美國的音樂院教授——祖父在莫斯科音樂院教過書，祖母在華沙音樂院任職。他的母親是鋼琴家。他自小家中就充滿音樂，七歲開始由家人授課，從來沒有去上過正規的音樂課，直到青少年時期才在家族之外接受正式訓練。
換句話說，他的音樂教育，一開始完全是家庭的、充滿俄羅斯與波蘭傳統的。
這個背景埋下了他整個藝術氣質的種子：那種直接、充沛、彷彿音樂是生命的母語。
他十歲和費城管絃樂團合作首演。十四歲進入哈佛福德學院(Haverford College)主修哲學與英國文學——不是音樂。他用三年修完四年課程，以全班第一畢業。
一九四六年他20歲，作為美國代表被邀請前往法國，參加第一屆聯合國教科文組織國際音樂節。
一九四七年春天，他留在歐洲展開巡演——羅馬、威尼斯、那不勒斯、巴黎、倫敦、薩爾茨堡，一路連著演下去。巡演結束後，他決定定居巴黎，再也不回去了。
他後來解釋了這個選擇。他說：「在法國，鋼琴學生們積極地走到一起，他們甚至可以成為朋友，互相參加音樂會並鼓掌。在美國，他們去聽同行演奏，只希望看到他摔斷脖子。」
他在歐洲大陸快速建立聲譽，Decca簽下他，讓他以布拉姆斯為核心展開大規模的錄音計畫。到今天，他的布拉姆斯鋼琴獨奏全集仍然是這個領域的重要版本之一。
四張黑膠，四個時間切面
接下來要分
享的這四張唱片，分別來自他生涯的不同時期，但如果你把它們排在一起看，你會發現一條清晰的線索。
第一張：London LL.1233（一九五六年，三十歲）
這是他為DECCA錄製的貝多芬經典——A 面《熱情》奏鳴曲，B 面《第三十二號》奏鳴曲 Op.111。
Op.111 是貝多芬的最後一首奏鳴曲。第二樂章「小詠嘆調」是一組變奏，音樂從最簡單的民謠主題出發，不斷升華，最後幾乎消融於宇宙之中。
第二張：Decca LXT.5439（一九五七年，三十一歲）
舒伯特《流浪者幻想曲》與舒曼《狂歡節》。
這是卡欽所有錄音裡，選曲搭配最有意思的一張。
舒伯特的《流浪者幻想曲》有一個不太有人知道的故事：舒伯特寫完這首曲子之後，自己試著演奏，彈到一半彈不下去，最後受挫地喊出「讓魔鬼來彈它！」他才二十五歲，已經知道自己感染了梅毒，知道生命不會太長。
舒曼的《狂歡節》，是用 ASCH 四個字母——他心儀女子故鄉的地名，同時也是 SCHumAnn 的縮寫——構成的密碼音樂。裡面有二十一個微型角色：Eusebius（舒曼沉靜的內在面）、Florestan（舒曼衝動的外在面）、小丑、蝴蝶……每一個面具背後，都是同一個人。
卡欽做了一件讓評論家驚訝的事：在《狂歡節》裡，他演奏了通常所有鋼琴家都選擇省略不彈的「獅身人面像」段落。那是一個卡欽的宣言：我不只演奏音符，我演奏音符背後的謎。
第三張：Decca LXT.5621（一九六○年，三十四歲）
《迪亞貝利變奏曲》。這是他第二次錄這首作品——七年前他已錄過一次。
為什麼要再錄一次？沒有人知道確切的答案。但那七年之間，他看見了這部作品的什麼，讓他覺得必須重新說一遍？
迪亞貝利的那段圓舞曲主題，是當年維也納的次要出版商拿來做促銷用的——平凡到連貝多芬自己都嫌棄，稱它為「鞋匠補丁」。然後貝多芬用這個「鞋匠補丁」，寫出了三十三個變奏，讓整個委託計畫的其他作曲家（包括舒伯特、車爾尼、李斯特）加起來都相形失色。
卡欽演奏這首作品，以那種無拘束的炫技飛馳著稱。評論家說他的版本像「Oscar Peterson 演奏貝多芬」(用即興爵士樂演奏貝多芬)——這不是批評，這是對那種生命力的準確描述。他給出的答案是：這是一個讓人充滿生命力的問題，而不只是一個讓人沉思的問題。
第四張：Decca LXT.5656（一九六一年，三十四歲）——《Encores》
回到開頭那個故事。
他邀請朋友來陪他錄音，他認為安可曲不能在空的錄音室裡誕生。
A 面從海絲(Myra Hess)改編巴哈的《耶穌，世人仰望之喜悅》出發，穿越布拉姆斯的匈牙利狂想曲、貝多芬悲愴的慢板、李斯特匈牙利狂想曲的炫技噴發，最後落在孟德爾頌/李斯特編曲的《乘著歌聲的翅膀》。
B 面從莫扎特 K.545 的清澈出發，穿越蕭邦的鋼鐵意志波蘭舞曲、幻想即興的浪漫，然後是德布西月光的夢境——
最後：德法雅《火祭之舞》。
那首最後的曲子，是他對整個音樂廳說的最後一句話。是他在搖滾馬戲團的燈光下，一九六八年十二月的最後一次燃燒。是一個以為自己還有很多時間的人，在不知道那是告別的情況下，留下的最後的火焰。
一個你今天再也聽不到的聲音
在音樂史上，
有一種損失特別殘忍：不是那種「他晚年衰退了」的損失，也不是「他後來走了岔路」的損失，而是「他正在上升的途中，突然停止了」的損失。
卡欽屬於這一種。
他與小提琴家蘇克（Josef Suk,1929-2011）錄完了布拉姆斯三首小提琴奏鳴曲，與大提琴家史塔克（Janos Starker,1924-2013）錄完了第二號大提琴奏鳴曲——他們本來要繼續錄第一號的，計畫就停在那裡，再也沒有繼續的機會了。蘇克和史塔克後來仍然繼續合作，找了另一個鋼琴家來填補那個空缺。那個位置，是填不滿的。
那雙手，在一九六九年四月的巴黎，停了。
而這四張黑膠，是那雙手仍然在運動的時候留下的。
＊＊＊＊＊＊＊
Julius Katchen在1968年12月滾石樂團的「搖滾馬戲團」（Rock and Roll Circus)：
＊＊＊＊＊＊
[Ancient Palace Records Music Story] The Classical Pianist Invited by The Rolling Stones Just Wanted to Give You One More Encore: The Brief Life Festival of a Philosopher-Pianist
One ni
ght in December 1968, London, backstage at a rock concert.
The Rolling Stones were putting together their "Rock and Roll Circus"—a wild gathering complete with acrobats, fire-breathers, and John Lennon (1940–1980). In the frantic moments right before a crew of rock stars was about to hit the stage, Brian Jones (1942–1969), the band's founding member, stepped up to the microphone and said:
"Please welcome—Julius Katchen (1926–1969)!"
Then, Katchen, dressed in a tailcoat, walked onto the stage, sat at the piano, and played Manuel de Falla's Ritual Fire Dance right in front of that raucous crowd.
No one knew he was already sick. Four months later, he passed away from cancer at his home in Paris. He was only forty-two years old.
That very Ritual Fire Dance had already been pressed seven years earlier onto a British Decca vinyl record with an orange label and silver lettering. That album was called Encores.
It was 1961, he was thirty-four, and Decca’s studio was located in West Hampstead, London. Katchen did something incredibly rare in recording history: he refused to perform in an empty studio. He said that an encore isn't something a person speaks into an isolated microphone—it is the final word a performer says to an audience with whom they have just shared two hours of their life at the end of a concert.
So, he invited a group of friends to act as a live audience and sit with him while he recorded.
The sound of his friends breathing, the ambient air of that June afternoon in London, along with those twelve pieces—everything was captured together right into the music.
Because nearly 60 years have passed since his death in 1969, he might be a pianist many people today have never heard of. In 2016, to commemorate the 90th anniversary of his birth, Decca released his complete recordings in a massive 35-CD box set. But if you are the kind of person who believes that "a person's entire being can only truly be heard while they are still here," then you will understand exactly why these four vinyl records are so incredibly precious.
Who Was Katchen?
Katchen
was born in 1926 in Long Branch, New Jersey. His grandparents were conservatory professors who had immigrated to the United States from Europe—his grandfather had taught at the Moscow Conservatory, and his grandmother served on the faculty of the Warsaw Conservatory. His mother was a pianist.
From early childhood, his home was filled with music. He began lessons with family members at age seven and never attended a formal music school until his teenage years, when he finally received formal training outside the family.
In other words, his musical education was initially entirely domestic, deeply steeped in Russian and Polish traditions. This background planted the seeds for his entire artistic temperament: that direct, abundant quality, as if music were his native language of life.
He made his debut with the Philadelphia Orchestra at age ten. At fourteen, he entered Haverford College to major in philosophy and English literature—not music. He completed the four-year curriculum in just three years, graduating first in his class.
In 1946, at age 20, he was invited to France as an American representative to participate in the first UNESCO International Music Festival. In the spring of 1947, he remained in Europe to embark on a concert tour—Rome, Venice, Naples, Paris, London, Salzburg, playing one venue right after another. Once the tour concluded, he decided to settle in Paris, never to return.
He later explained this choice. He said:
"In France, piano students actively come together; they can even become friends, attend each other's concerts, and applaud. In America, they go to hear their peers play only hoping to see them break their necks."
He rapidly established a stellar reputation across continental Europe. Decca signed him, launching a massive recording project centered around Johannes Brahms. To this day, his complete Brahms solo piano recordings remain one of the definitive editions in the field.
Four Vinyl Records, Four Slices of Time
The four
records I am about to share come from different periods of his career, but if you line them up and look at them together, you will find a remarkably clear thread linking them all.
1. London LL.1233 (1956, Age 30)
This is h
is recording of Beethoven classics for Decca—Side A features the Appassionata Sonata, and Side B features the Sonata No. 32, Op. 111.
Op. 111 is Beethoven’s final piano sonata. The second movement, "Arietta," is a set of variations where the music starts from the simplest folk-like theme, continuously sublimates, and ultimately almost dissolves into the universe.
2. Decca LXT.5439 (1957, Age 31)
Schubert'
s Wanderer Fantasy and Schumann's Carnaval. Out of all of Katchen’s recordings, this one features the most fascinating pairing of repertoire.
There is a little-known story behind Schubert's Wanderer Fantasy: after Schubert finished writing the piece, he tried to play it himself but got stuck halfway through. Frustrated, he finally cried out, "Let the devil play it!" He was only twenty-five years old, already aware that he had contracted syphilis, and knew his life would not be long.
Schumann's Carnaval is a piece of coded music built around the four letters ASCH—representing the hometown of a woman he admired, which also happens to be an abbreviation contained within SCHumAnn. It features twenty-one miniature characters: Eusebius (Schumann’s calm, inward-looking side), Florestan (Schumann’s impulsive, outward-facing side), Coquette, Papillons... behind every single mask is the exact same person.
Katchen did something that astonished critics: in Carnaval, he chose to play the "Sphinxes" section, which almost all other pianists routinely choose to omit. It was Katchen's personal通 manifesto: I don't just play the notes; I play the riddle behind them.
3. Decca LXT.5621 (1960, Age 34)
The Diabe
lli Variations. This was his second time recording this masterpiece—he had already recorded it seven years prior. Why record it again? No one knows the exact answer. But what did he see within this work during those seven intervening years that made him feel he absolutely had to say it all over again?
Diabelli’s waltz theme was originally used by a minor Viennese publisher as a promotional tool—it was so mundane that even Beethoven himself looked down on it, calling it a "cobbler's patch." Yet, using this very "cobbler's patch," Beethoven went on to write thirty-three variations that completely eclipsed the contributions of all the other composers involved in the commissioning project combined (including Schubert, Czerny, and Liszt).
Katchen’s performance of this piece is famous for its unbridled, soaring virtuosity. Critics remarked that his version sounded like "Oscar Peterson playing Beethoven" (playing Beethoven with the spirit of improvisational jazz)—this wasn't a criticism; it was an incredibly accurate description of that raw vitality. The answer he provided was this: this music is a question that makes a person feel vibrantly alive, not just a problem for quiet contemplation.
4. Decca LXT.5656 (1961, Age 34) —
Encores
Returning
to the story we started with. He invited his friends to keep him company during the recording session, firmly believing that an encore could never be born in an empty studio.
Side A sets off from Myra Hess’s transcription of Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring, journeys through Brahms's Hungarian Dance, the Pathétique Adagio of Beethoven, and the virtuoso explosions of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody, finally resting on the Mendelssohn/Liszt arrangement of On Wings of Song.
Side B begins with the crystalline clarity of Mozart’s Sonata K. 545, moves through the iron-willed Polonaise and romantic yearning of the Fantaisie-Impromptu by Chopin, floats into the dreamscape of Debussy’s Clair de Lune—and arrives at the very end: Manuel de Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance.
That final piece was his last sentence spoken to the entire concert hall. It was his final burn under the flashing lights of the Rock and Roll Circus in December 1968. It was the last remaining flame left behind by a man who thought he still had plenty of time, entirely unaware that it was a final farewell.
A Voice You Can Never Hear Again Today
In the his
tory of music, there is one kind of loss that is particularly cruel: it is not the loss of "he declined in his later years," nor the loss of "he took a wrong turn down the road," but rather the loss of "he stopped suddenly right in the middle of his ascent."
Katchen belongs to this exact category.
He finished recording Brahms’s three violin sonatas with violinist Josef Suk (1929–2011), and the Cello Sonata No. 2 with cellist János Starker (1924–2013)—they were supposed to go on to record the Cello Sonata No. 1, but the project stopped right there, and the opportunity never came again. Suk and Starker continued to collaborate later on, finding another pianist to fill that void.
But that chair could never truly be filled.
Those hands stopped moving in Paris, in April 1969. And these four vinyl records are what remain from a time when those hands were still moving.