Quite a few have asked for a copy of the tribute I gave at Niel Immelman’s funeral yesterday. As it seemed to go down so well, I reproduce it here:

I should start by saying that Niel Immelman never missed a birthday of mine and, God bless him, he’s managed not to miss today’s, either (!)

We first met in 2005 at the Oxford Piano Festival when I played the Second French Suite of Bach for him in the oak-panelled Recital Hall of the Faculty of Music. My first memory was of a tall, rather formidable-looking man in a dark suit and tie, with the scent of his Marlboro cigarettes never far away, grinning benevolently at me from the second piano: of course, Niel Immelman.

There is little I remember about that particular masterclass today but I remember thinking at the time it was clear I would end up studying with him one day. Two years later he was already a close friend and embodied absolutely every quality required of a mentor – unerringly kind, caring and supportive — and especially so of my exploration of unfamiliar repertoire, providing guidance and encouragement when I found little elsewhere. Every work I brought to him was treated with equal seriousness; be it a Sonata of Beethoven or a Fantasy of Thalberg; an Etude of Alkan or a Tale of Medtner: all were given due attention and none escaped his ability to penetrate the core of each work. As a teacher, he seemed to have that uncanny knack of being able to address multiple issues in one fell swoop with a single word or gesture somehow tying up the loose ends. He wasn’t all softness, of course, and could be appropriately spiky if need be. I remember one particular lesson where, on reflection, I was being distressingly wilful with the finale of a Haydn Sonata and was, quite rightly, taken to task for it. Imagine my surprise when I received a ‘phone call from him that night, apologising for having been so hard on me — “But you were quite right – it was far too fast”, I protested, but he insisted he’d been too hard and wanted to apologise.

Humility and modesty closely related. Few of us had any idea that he was busy preparing for a recording of the piano music of Novák. I only caught wind of the project on espying the scores, neatly annotated with fingerings, on the music desk of the second piano in hie teaching room, Once I discovered it had already been released in 2008 I asked why he never mentioned it – “Oh, that’s not my style”, he retorted… I later discovered his joyous survey of the complete piano music of Suk and it was only really then that I realised the true measure of what he was like as a pianist. Indeed, these recordings remain a valuable testament of his artistry.

His modesty as a musician sometimes resulted in hilarious (if terrifying at the time) consequences. He once recounted a tale of having played a joint recital with a colleague at Lake Placid, U.S.A., and after what they both felt was an especially successful evening of music-making, his colleague was keen on counting out how much money they had both made over a well-deserved libation. “Oh, come on, man, this is so vulgar – we played well – let’s just forget about that for now and enjoy the rest of the evening.” And so saying, he proceeded to deposit the evening’s plunder into a vase for safe-keeping as they whiled away the night hours. Of course, what he hadn’t considered was that while the vase contained no flowers, it did, however, contain water (!) so one can imagine their collective horror on upturning the said receptacle and beholding a deluge of foul water issue forth and a sodden bundle of dollar bills and banker’s drafts (ink running!) plopping onto the table.

Humour was never far away in and out of lessons and he invariably displayed that valuable asset of making light of things. I remember one particular occasion when, after having tripped and broken his wrist in the process of moving his hifi, he resorted to donning a black leather glove in order to restrict movement and speed up the healing process. Approaching the music desk of the first piano, black-gloved hand awkwardly clutching one of his 2B pencils, he gently reassured me with the words: “Now, this is not as sinister as it looks…”

Similarly, he was not averse to making light of himself, either. He once recalled an incident which happened many years ago when he made some recordings for Greek television which necessitated a session in the make-up artist’s chair. Once filming was complete, he decided, despite the intense summer heat, to walk back to his hotel, rather than take a taxi. En route, he couldn’t help noticing some rather odd glances from passing pedestrians. Thinking nothing of it, he decided to take refuge from the Athenian sun at the Hilton Hotel where he stopped for a Coca-Cola, This necessitated a trip to the restroom and it was only when looking in the mirror that he realised the source of consternation on the faces of the general public: the liberal daubing of make-up he had been given for his television appearance hours earlier had run down his face in rivulets under the intense mediterranean heat — “It was like ‘Death in Venice'”, he chuckled to me. 

His sense of humour often spilled over into music, as well, I remember one occasion, when ascending the lift to begin one of our lessons, a guitarist was playing something alluring and Spanish in the stairwell – “Such a friendly instrument”, he purred with the munificence of a tiger full from its last meal. On another occasion, when I played him the Chopin Fantaisie-Impromptu, I hurled down a bass D flat at the start of the middle section when he said “No, I don’t think that’s appropriate.” “But, are you sure?”, I bravely enquired – “I just feel it needs it…” Then, in a flash of reckless abandon: “Oh, why the hell not?!” I’ll never forget that mischievous twinkle in his eye or his subtle way with words.

They say one never quite realises what one has until it is gone and, in many ways, I agree. Though somehow loss and grief also compel us to quantify what a person meant to us with greater clarity and, as such, one grieves each attribute of the person in stages. I am sure I speak for many of us when I say that, aside from the immediate shock of losing an invaluable mentor with whom I could run by a recital programme or ask about ‘that’ bar in a Beethoven Sonata, I have also lost an esteemed colleague with whom I could discuss the various practicalities of teaching. And yet, greater still, I have lost a friend and confidant who was always at the other end of the ‘phone to lend a sympathetic ear and offer friendly and impartial advice: in short, a father figure. And whether we are comfortable with the notion that the end of this life ushers us into easeful oblivion or take solace that flights of angels sing us to our rest – though I’m sure he would have eventually tired of all those harps (!) – we can all, collectively, take comfort in the sure and certain fact that Niel shall live on in our hearts, minds, and for many of us, our fingers, as we continue our own paths in the lives we have ahead of us, passing on his wisdom through teaching, his insight through playing, and his generosity of spirit through living out the example he set to us all.

Thank you.

Rest eternal grant unto him, O Lord: and let light perpetual shine upon him

Mark Viner at St Mary’s Faustian Struggles and Promethean Prophesies

I was so sorry not to be in the UK to say goodbye especially as the service took place at the end of my road in Kew .Peter Bithell had become over the years a very close friend of Niel .Peter ,Tessa Nicholson and I had been very close friends in our student days before I followed my heart and left the UK for theatre life in Rome.It was Niel who I remember so well in the 70’s before my RAM student days when we were Rubinstein Groupies.Wherever Rubinstein played there was sure to be Niel.I remember very well a recital at Eton College for the Menuhin Windsor Festival where the whole audience was in tails so when Rubinstein appeared on stage no one took much notice……..except when he started to play.I was still at school when I discovered free concerts at the Royal College near enough to my home in Chiswick to frequent almost daily.There were all the marvellous students of Cyril Smith of which Niel,George Barbour,Frank Wibaut,Dennis Lee** were the stars .John Lill,not a student of Smith,made his debut at 17 with Rachmaninov 3 with the big cadenza.It was widely reported in the press as ‘greater than Ogdon’.But there was George Barbour and Dennis Lee both playing Brahms 2 all with Sir Adrian Boult with his extra long baton that transmitted such magic between his sergeant major look and the message he transmitted to the students.George Barbour made his London debut with Beethoven op 126,111,120 sponsored by a wealthy philanthropist who lived in Mayfair and used to collect piano lessons (my old teacher Sidney Harrison gave him a lesson as did many others).He was at the door of the Wigmore to make sure that we all really appreciated his star prodigy!George became the duo Rostal and Schaffer ,heirs to Gold and Fitzdale.I well remember the solidity and beauty of Cyril Smiths students and of course Niel was very much to the fore.The film ‘Shine’ was obviously based on Cyril Smith and the performance of John Lill of the elusive Rach 3!David Helfgott though was nowhere around but Niel and the others certainly were stars in that period.Niel was the only pianist I saw at all the most important recitals in or around London and it was obviously his acquiring of good taste that he transmitted to all his students.Mark and Tyler Hay in particular I have noted the tradition being passed down to his disciples.I last saw Niel at Andrew Ball’s commemoration concert in April and he looked as though he had suffered a lot from doctors over zealous hands.I saw him again just a few weeks ago as I was listening to one of the final recitals at the RCM and he was just leaving after a full days teaching. I mentioned to Tessa how he seemed to have suffered so much ,curved with a stick,but she assured me that he still had a full class of students and that they regularly discussed music as they had for a lifetime.The next I knew was a telephone call from Peter Bithell to ask advice about a place where friends could congregate after Niel’s funeral cremation .The Ship I told him and hope they all sailed in it and toasted this gentle ,oh so modest giant who had selflessly given so much to so many.Tyler practicing Chopin studies in my house nearby at 7am determined not to miss the farewell to his mentor but to give always of his best to his public that evening as Niel had always taught him .

A celebration of the life of Andrew Ball -‘The thinker pianist’ at the R.C.M London

** Just went to a funeral today, saw Frank Wibaut there – Dennis Lee a Malaysian pianist suddenly passed away…he was the very first Malaysian pianist outside of Malaysia… Frank Wibaut is looking very thin, in ill health…..so it seems like a lot of musicians are not in great health… I knew him well I heard him often at the RCM even Brahms 2 with Sir Adrian Bouit he and his wife went to study with the Rumanian teacher of Radu Lupu

Frank I got to know at Dartington he was star student of Cyril Smith ….he had a lovely wife who was a radio presenter but they split up I believe 

When did Dennis Lee die I have not heard of him since maybe he went into teaching like Frank in some important college ?Is there an obituary ? Dennis died on the 14th April, around two weeks ago…he recorded some solo Debussy recently I think, but mainly played and taught together with his now-widow over the years…they travelled to Asia together quite a lot, and did some duo things in Canada and America…I think he was a teacher at Kingston University and also did some work for the Associated Board……..in the general piano circle here in London, Dennis is not really that known, but in Malaysia he is still held in high esteem that sort of thing…

Actually, I was e-mailing this guy Lee Kum Sing about yesterday’s funeral, Lee Kum Sing lives in Vancouver and his latest prodigy is apparently Ryan Wang, Yisha went to Louis Vuitton hall in Paris to watch this kid’s concert……Lee Kum Sing, Dennis Lee and a couple of others were sort of musical pioneers from South-East Asia that kind of thing…

Alberto Portugheis writes:’Moving. I couldn’t agree more with Mark’s warm words. I first met Niel 52 years ago, in 1971. I was happy to help promote his superb recordings of Suk’s complete piano works with a lecture-recital chez moi. (It then only had one piano and room for an audience).’ https://christopheraxworthymusiccommentary.com/2023/02/23/alberto-portugheis-a-renaissance-man-goes-posk-to-celebrate-the-213th-birthday-of-fryderyk-franciszek-chopin/