Standing in my kitchen in Manchester one afternoon I heard someone taking enormous risks in a performance of Prokofiev’s Second Piano Concerto, yet in spite of the monstrousness of this rendition the poetry in this often misunderstood score stood fully revealed. I’d joined the broadcast during that insane first movement cadenza, swallowing up fully half the movement’s playing time, and sat and listened to the very end.

Who was the pianist?

What had really impressed me was the cavernous fortissimi - the absolutely solid wall of volume without any suggestion of brittleness or harshness about it - yet overwhelming in its impact, like a series of detonations cutting effortlessly through angry Prokofievian tutti. Finally, the end came and the announcer gave out the name John Bingham.

With a little research I discovered that this man taught at Trinity College in London so, from the same kitchen in Manchester on another afternoon, with uncharacteristic audacity, I phoned up the College and asked to speak to him. There was a considerable delay whilst they tried to find him but eventually a low-pitched, almost bored sounding voice answered me. I explained hurriedly that I had heard his Prokofiev, was terribly impressed, wished to be part of the magic, would love to be taught, etc etc...

To my surprise, this man appeared to be pleased I had dragged him out of a lesson to tell him all this, and suggested I go through the College’s entrance protocol and he would see what he could do for me.

After becoming a student of John Bingham, it quickly became clear to me that I should have to reject all previous held notions I had had about piano technique. He had been a pupil of the famous Russian pedagogue Heinrich Neuhaus, who had taught Gilels and Richter, and had been introduced to a markedly different postural approach to piano playing, particularly in the area of dropped arm weight and the increased involvement with the keys initiated by a lowering of the wrist. These more elastic principles he attempted to convey to me.

For the first time in my musical life - at the age of 24 - someone had managed to show me that successful piano playing was no mere magician’s trick, or even the exclusive property to be enjoyed only by super-talents without the need for specific training, but could be enjoyed by anyone musical, flexible and industrious enough to implement just a few vital postural adjustments and have the faith that results would eventually put in an appearance.

To be continued….