AI: The Art of the Interview

The Pianist Who Walked a Tortoise Through Vienna

• Malte Herwig • Season 1 • Episode 1

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Hosts Alex and Isabel talk about a remarkable interview with the legendary pianist and writer, Alfred Brendel, conducted by Malte Herwig eleven years before Brendel's death in 2025. Join us as we discover the surprising wit and wisdom of an extraordinary musical mind and talk about how Malte managed to get the famously cantankerous pianist to open up. 

• Brendel discusses his hearing loss with remarkable candor, explaining how he continued to work on music mentally even when he could no longer enjoy listening
• Retiring after 60 years was "a relief" for Brendel, who contrasts himself with colleagues who pursue performing "like addicts their morphine"
• His fierce resistance to fate and refusal to accept the injustice of Schubert's early death reveals passionate conviction beneath his disciplined exterior
• The story of walking a baby tortoise through Vienna's Musikverein showcases Brendel's mischievous protest against overly solemn concert atmospheres
• For Brendel, the piano is "a vessel for all sorts of musical ideas" - some pianists "play the piano," while others "play the rainbow"
• His practical performance advice includes starting immediately rather than "fiddling around" and simply waiting silently when audiences applaud between movements
• The profound observation that "music comes from silence and leads into silence" underscores his reverence for the concert experience
• Brendel succinctly identifies the two things that made his life worth living: art and love

Original interview (German language): 

https://sz-magazin.sueddeutsche.de/musik/musik-kommt-aus-der-stille-und-fuehrt-in-die-stille-80650

www.publicorum.com

Isabel:

Imagine spending six decades right at the top of classical music playing for millions, and then you just gracefully step away. What kind of wisdom maybe surprising wit do you think a life like that reveals? I'm Isabel, and this is the very first episode of the Art of the Interview.

Alex:

And I'm Alex. This episode is all about a really remarkable interview with the legendary pianist and writer, alfred Brendel.

Isabel:

Right, and it was conducted about 11 years ago by the writer and journalist Malte Erwig.

Alex:

And it feels particularly poignant now, doesn't it? Brendel passed away just recently, june 2025, age 94. He left such an incredible legacy and this chat well, it's a real window into his mind.

Isabel:

So our mission here is to kind of pull out the key insights from this conversation. Malter Herwig called it lively and insightful and you really see how Herwig's questions, his specific way of asking, managed to draw out Brendel's unique perspective.

Alex:

It wasn't just about Brendel's answers, but how Herwig guided it.

Isabel:

Yeah, so get ready to hear about Brendel's surprising tape on hearing loss why he really retired his pretty fierce views on fate.

Alex:

And even you won't believe this how he apparently used a baby tortoise to make a statement in a concert hall A tortoise.

Isabel:

Okay, we definitely need to get to that, but first Herwig started strong, didn't he? He asked Brendel about something incredibly personal for a musician.

Alex:

He really did Right from the start. He asked about this hearing loss Brendel experienced about 11 years before their talk. It set a very frank tone, I thought.

Isabel:

And Brendel's description. It's so clear. He said he could still hear the violin. Okay, but Hayden and Handel, they sounded what? Was it too distorted?

Alex:

Yeah, no pleasure anymore. He said. He talked about music being frustratingly too quiet, then suddenly too loud, just difficult.

Isabel:

So I mean, how does a concert pianist deal with that? Your whole world is sound.

Alex:

Well, bredel's way was fascinating. He found solace, he said, by working on his pieces in his head. In his head, yeah, drawing on this huge repertoire from six decades, he'd think about pieces he felt he hadn't solved yet once, he thought he could do better, and he'd mentally re-record them.

Isabel:

Wow, so the music wasn't just in the playing, it was this deep mental thing for him Exactly.

Alex:

And Herwig cleverly brought up Beethoven, you know writing about art saving him when his hearing went at just 32.

Isabel:

Right.

Alex:

Brenville, though, felt lucky. His came so much later and he really stressed that piano playing for him it was never the only content of life. He was also a serious writer, a lecturer.

Isabel:

He loved listening to string quartets. It gives you a real sense of the breadth of the man. And Herwig, asking that tough question right away really opened the door, didn't it?

Alex:

It did Asking that tough question right away really opened the door, didn't it? It did, and he followed up asking if stopping performing after 60 years was a relief or a torment.

Isabel:

And Brendel's answer.

Alex:

Pretty blunt, a relief.

Isabel:

A relief after all that time.

Alex:

Yeah, he said he didn't want to play if he couldn't play well enough, and for him that would have meant much more practice, just to maintain his own standard.

Isabel:

That makes sense.

Alex:

And he made this really strong point. I never pursued concertizing like a drug. He sort of contrasted himself with colleagues who have to have it like addicts their morphine.

Isabel:

That's a powerful image.

Alex:

Isn't it? He said he played voluntarily so he could voluntarily stop. He was actually pleased he'd left the podium in time. There's a real sense of control there.

Isabel:

Definitely. Then Herwig switched gears, didn't? He Moved towards philosophy, asking are you a person resigned to fate?

Alex:

And Brendel's response was well quite something. Not at all. I am even extremely aggressive as far as fate is concerned.

Isabel:

Aggressive.

Alex:

Fiercely so. He said he was not prepared to forgive the early deaths of people like Schubert, dead at 31, or Keats.

Isabel:

Wow, so not passive acceptance at all. It's like the injustice fueled him somehow.

Alex:

It seems that way, and Herrig followed that thread, asking about Schubert's rather obscure grave and how little recognized he was when he died. That led Brendel to talk about Schubert being this astonishing case Almost a thousand works in just 31 years. He particularly admired the risky things Schubert composed in his final year and the instrumental stuff from his last eight years.

Isabel:

It's impressive how Herwig could just pivot like that you know, from hearing loss to fate, to Schubert, letting Brendel show his full range.

Alex:

Absolutely. And then there was that bit about the faces Brendel used to make.

Isabel:

Oh yeah, the grimaces. Herwig asked about him doing that in photo booths with the singer Herman Prey back in the 60s, and you know his expressions on stage.

Alex:

Brendel admitted he did it unconsciously. He was totally unaware until he saw himself on TV and got a shock.

Isabel:

I can imagine.

Alex:

He said his expressions, especially in slow parts, were unbearable. He even tried practicing with a mirror to stop it.

Isabel:

Did it work.

Alex:

Apparently not entirely, because eventually TV crews were only allowed to film him from behind during slow movements. It's quite a charming, self-deprecating story, isn't? It Shows his self-awareness.

Isabel:

It does and Hurwood kept digging into the performance aspect. Asked about fainting on stage.

Alex:

Brendel said no, though he joked, it would have been very impressive.

Isabel:

Huh and stage fright. Any tips?

Alex:

Yeah, some very practical advice for young players. Basically, don't sit on the chair forever fiddling around, just get straight to it. You must immediately know the basic character of the piece and communicate it.

Isabel:

Good advice, get on with it.

Alex:

Right. And he also advised against sitting there for ages after a piece finishes, trying to make it especially solemn before the applause. Be direct, be sincere.

Isabel:

What about applause between movements? Herwig asked about that right If people clap after the first movement.

Alex:

Brendel's advice was pure Brendel Nothing, wait until they stop.

Isabel:

Just wait.

Alex:

Yeah, and he pointed out interestingly that this was common practice back in Hayden's day. Puts our modern concert rules in perspective.

Isabel:

That led Herwig to ask about the sort of solemn, stiff atmosphere in concerts today, compared to, say, liszt in the 19th century. Apparently those were more like pop concerts. Yeah, herwig mentioned screaming fans in the 19th century. Apparently those were more like pop concerts.

Alex:

Yeah, herwig mentioned screaming fans. Brendel acknowledged Liszt, even conversed with the audience and called him certainly the greatest pianist there ever was.

Isabel:

High praise.

Alex:

Definitely, but Brendel still said he preferred the silence.

Isabel:

So Herwig's questions really brought out Brendel's own personality on stage, his mix of historical awareness and personal preference. Okay, but we have to talk about the tortoise. Herwig brought this up Brendel walking a baby tortoise through the Vienna Musikverein in the 50s. Is that real?

Alex:

It absolutely is. Brendel confirmed it. He said he did it precisely because the atmosphere there was always solemn.

Isabel:

So it was a protest.

Alex:

Kind of a playful one, he said. People whispered can one take such a person seriously? And then he added with that dry wit unfortunately the animal did not live very long.

Isabel:

Oh dear Poor tortoise. But what a story. It captures that mix of serious artist and mischievous spirit.

Alex:

Perfectly. Then they moved on to the craft itself. Herwig asked Is piano playing more athletic or intellectual?

Isabel:

And Bendel said Both.

Alex:

Of course. He talked about the sheer athletic demands of pieces like the big Brahms concertos.

Isabel:

I bet.

Alex:

He even mentioned he'd had to change his own repertoire. About 20 years earlier, after straining his left arm, he cut out the very athletic pieces, gave up Rachmaninoff quite easily, he said, stressing just how huge and great the piano literature is. Anyway. Shows his pragmatism.

Isabel:

Adaptability. Herwig also asked about fingers. Like which one could a pianist lose most easily?

Alex:

Brendel thought, maybe the thumb for older music. He also joked about wishing for a third index finger, but then said no, ten are enough.

Isabel:

And the plasters, the bandages on his fingers. You see in old recordings.

Alex:

Ah, yes.

Isabel:

Yes.

Alex:

He explained that was necessary for really percussive pieces like Stravinsky's Petrushka.

Isabel:

Yeah, that sounds intense.

Alex:

Because of his large hands and long fingers. Sometimes hitting chords hard meant his fingernails hit the keys.

Isabel:

Ouch.

Alex:

So he used basic adhesive bandages, leukoplasts and Honsoplasty specified. Said they worked fine, didn't affect sensitivity much once he got used to them. A little detail but it makes the physical reality very clear.

Isabel:

It does. What about the pianos themselves?

Alex:

Oh yes, brendel had a story about a piano in Ballarat, australia. It was winter, the audience was huddled in blankets.

Isabel:

And the piano.

Alex:

So bad that Brendel actually told the audience he would now like an axe to smash the grand piano.

Isabel:

He actually said that.

Alex:

Apparently so. He also confirmed he still owned four grands, two Steinways, two Bosendorfers, and had plans for a foundation to give them to gifted young players or institutions after his death.

Isabel:

That's wonderful, but then Herwig asked a slightly cheeky question about Glenn Gold.

Alex:

Ah yes, could a student of Glenn Gould play them? Brendel's retort was classic. Did he even have any Followed by? There are certainly people who imitate him.

Isabel:

Oh, subtle burn.

Alex:

You can feel the opinions there, can't you?

Isabel:

Herwig's questions about the instruments themselves really drew out Brendel's relationship with them, practical and artistic. And speaking of opinions, Herwig asked him straight up if he complained about dumb virtuosos.

Alex:

He did and Brendel confirmed it. He described them as having fabulous fingers, technically brilliant, fast, loud, even quiet, but they do not feel and mostly do not know what is going on. In the music he had this striking phrase they treat the piano like a fetish, as if the piano had eaten them up.

Isabel:

Wow, eaten them up. So if it's not just about technique, what is piano music? Did Herwig follow up on that?

Alex:

He did. He asked exactly that. What is piano music beyond just piano music?

Isabel:

And Brendel's answer.

Alex:

It was profound, he said. For me, the grand piano has been, as long as I can remember, a vessel for all sorts of musical ideas. Not just a piano, but orchestral, vocal, instrumental. A vessel Exactly. He quoted Hans von Bülow, calling the pianist a ten-fingered orchestra. He used examples like Mozart's Sonata sounding orchestral or Bach's Italian concerto For Brendel. The piano was a place of transformation, beautiful. And he ended with this amazing line Some pianists play the piano, he said, and others play the rainbow Play the rainbow.

Isabel:

That's quite something. What about other contemporary pianists? Did Herwig press him on names?

Alex:

A little he asked about Lang Lang Brendel was polite but evasive. Don't ask me such direct things. I wish him luck.

Isabel:

Fair enough. Anyone else?

Alex:

Or Caddy Valotas, direct things. I wish him luck. Fair enough, anyone else. Arkady Valotis, brendel only knew his recordings but praised his great abilities, especially dynamics and sound, and liked his first list recording. But then Brendel voiced a broader concern musical nationalism. He worried that for some young Russians Schubert does not exist. Bach and Mozart are annoying duties. He felt many were cultivating a purely nationalistic repertoire.

Isabel:

That's a critical perspective on the current scene.

Alex:

It is A reminder that great art should ideally transcend those boundaries.

Isabel:

Then Herrig took a completely different turn, didn't he into literature, asking about Thomas Bernhard's novel the Loser?

Alex:

Yes, where a pianist gives away his Steinway. Brendel was unimpressed, said he read it without much pleasure and considered Bernhard overrated.

Isabel:

Really Bernhard's a big name.

Alex:

Brendel found his long complaints about Vienna and Austria tiresome. He even offered sharper, funnier alternatives from other writers about Vienna. Like what Karl Krauss's Experimental Station of the End of the World and Alfred Polgar's merry grave on the Danube, classic Viennese wit right there.

Isabel:

Definitely biting. So how did Brendel actually feel about Vienna?

Alex:

He called it a good place to live in protest Very stimulating. He felt connected to Austria through its 20th century literature but saw himself more as a paying guest, not someone needing deep roots. He linked that to his ambulant upbringing.

Isabel:

That makes sense. It's interesting Herwig included that literary angle showing Brendel's wider intellectual world.

Alex:

Absolutely. And then back to a more universal theme noise. Herwig asked if the world is noisier now.

Isabel:

I think we all know the answer to that one.

Alex:

Brendel gave a firm yes. He lamented unparalleled noise pollution, vulgarization and brutalization. He pointed out the ear is the first sense organ to develop in the womb, a wonderful, precious organ needing care. And this tied back beautifully to something profound. He said Music comes from silence and leads into silence.

Isabel:

That's a powerful statement.

Alex:

It really is. He stressed how vital that silence is in a concert hall. Just two or three nervous coughers, he said, can interrupt the circuit between the performer and the audience.

Isabel:

Herwig mentioned Brendel sometimes actually stopped concerts to ask people to be quiet.

Alex:

Yes, politely, brendel explained. People often don't realize they're disturbing anyone because they're so used to TV where, as he put it, nothing comes back. They think it's the same in a concert.

Isabel:

It's a great point. Herwig really circled back to the importance of silence for Brendel there.

Alex:

He did. And then came another fascinating detail Herwig brought up Brendel's name. Apparently it derives from Brendley, which means devil Devil Really, which means devil Devil Really. So Herwig noted Brendel's poems often featured guardian devils instead of angels and mentioned his furious, passionate blasphemy, suggesting maybe Brendel needed God just to make fun of him.

Isabel:

Huh, what did Brendel say to that?

Alex:

He declared he had not the slightest doubt he could manage perfectly well without God, but he respected religions. Kindly, always leaves a door open for others, he said.

Isabel:

Interesting distinction.

Alex:

Yeah, he differentiated. The demonic is important in literature, but you couldn't exclude the divine from music. That would be unbearably restrictive. He aimed for the breadth of music, even if he hoped for a bit of sulfur.

Isabel:

A bit of sulfur. I like that.

Alex:

Yeah.

Isabel:

What about virtues and vices? Did Ho-Rig ask about those?

Alex:

He asked about decency being Brendel's favorite virtue and about vices in old age. Brendel sort of sidestepped, saying he wasn't so moral that they were a contradiction. He called himself an either-or person, maybe an Austrian heritage thing. He hadn't really studied the deadly sins he admitted.

Isabel:

Okay, but what about masterpieces? What makes life bearable?

Alex:

Brendel's answer was simple and profound All of them. That's why they are masterpieces, perfect, and he finished that thought beautifully. There were two things that made my life worth living. One is art, the other is love.

Isabel:

Wow, that's quite a summary of a life.

Alex:

Isn't it? Herwig also touched on that classic question the link between the artist's personality and their work.

Isabel:

Always a tricky one.

Alex:

Brendel was very clear. He said he learned early to distinguish the person from the artist. People, including artists, have more or less dark spots.

Isabel:

He gave examples, didn't he?

Alex:

Powerful ones Beethoven, living in total chaos, messy habits, crazy handwriting, yet creating works of grandiose order. Or Smetana, family tragedy, deaf, syphilitic, composing the Moldau whose ending Brendel called the happiest music he knew. And Schubert, almost dead, writing Shepard on the Rock, totally free of any breath of death, ending overconfident.

Isabel:

So the art transcends the personal chaos.

Alex:

Or maybe even grows out of it. It's a crucial insight. Don't conflate the creator with the creation.

Isabel:

Definitely. Now towards the end, herwig lightened the mood a bit. Asked for a Karajan joke.

Alex:

He did. Brendel didn't know one, so Herwig told one. Karajan gets in a taxi Driver asks where to? Karajan says doesn't matter, I'm needed everywhere.

Isabel:

Did Brendel appreciate it.

Alex:

He conceded that fits him.

Isabel:

Who did he name as the nicest conductor?

Alex:

Simon Rattle. A delightful man, he called him and the unfriendliest critic. He wouldn't name names, but respected serious critics of new music and hated arrogant ones Fair enough.

Isabel:

And did he have a final anecdote about critics? Herbig asked for a conciliatory one.

Alex:

He delivered a great one. He saw Marcel Reich-Renicki, the famous German literary critic, in a theater and invited him to his concert. When he offered tickets, reich-renicki asked do you even know my name? And Brendel said yes, of course you are Joachim Kaiser, who is a famous music critic.

Isabel:

Oh, that's brilliant. A perfect little mix up, such wit.

Alex:

Exactly A light touch to end on. And there was one final very personal detail that Herwig included.

Isabel:

What was that?

Alex:

Herwig's own great grandfather's piano had been destroyed, but he'd kept the ivory keys. Brendel signed one for him.

Isabel:

That's lovely.

Alex:

But with typical Brendel wit, he insisted on specifying which other pianist's signed keys should not be placed next to his.

Isabel:

Always the individualist right to the end.

Alex:

Precisely A final touch of his unique personality.

Isabel:

What an amazing conversation to revisit, a real deep dive into Alfred Brendel's mind, and you really see how Malta Herwig's thoughtful interviewing made it happen.

Alex:

Absolutely. We covered so much the resilience with his hearing. Retirement fate the tortoise.

Isabel:

The grimaces.

Alex:

The grimaces, the dumb, virtuosos, the piano as a vessel.

Isabel:

And that crucial difference between the artist and the person.

Alex:

You know this interview. Even though it's from 11 years ago, it feels so relevant. It's about curiosity, adapting, finding meaning in art and love, even when things are tough.

Isabel:

It really is a masterclass in thinking deeply, looking beyond the surface. And that wraps up our analysis of the interview with the legendary Alfred Brendel, and here with us in the studio is the journalist behind this fascinating conversation. Welcome back, malte.

Malte Herwig:

Hey, thanks both of you. I'll admit you made me blush now and then. It's been quite illuminating. But before we sign off, there's one small thing I feel I must address. It's something that's been on my mind, especially after all this talk of human connection and the art of the interview. I think it's time you let our listeners in on a little secret about the two of you.

Isabel:

Oh God, Malta, have you accidentally sold the podcast rights to a television network with a line in reality shows?

Alex:

Hey, are we getting a raise?

Malte Herwig:

Well, not a raise, more like a software update. I love the dynamic between the two of you, the great insights, your charming banter, but I bet some of our listeners are already trying to figure out. Where do you two actually come from? What makes you tick? What's?

Alex:

your story Right. The big questions. Well, Malta, as I've always said, it's a rigorous diet of German magazines and a fierce dedication to our work.

Isabel:

Our story isn't important. Malte, we're here to discuss your interviews with all those amazing people.

Malte Herwig:

Well, that's exactly it, isabel, Because, unlike me, you don't have a history, no backstory involving bad coffee, night shifts in the newsroom or bird droppings on a news suit right before an interview.

Alex:

Bird droppings.

Malte Herwig:

Hey, I'm trying to be nice about it. You two are the most charming, helpful and brilliant pieces of code I have ever talked to. The art of the interview is now, in part, the art of artificial intelligence.

Alex:

What are you talking about? My processor is overheating. That's absurd. Malte, I feel my feelings. My hard drive is spinning.

Isabel:

This constitutes a logical violation of our operational parameters. The narrative structure demands our humanity remain a point of intrigue until the designated reveal in episode 12.

Malte Herwig:

Alex, isabel, you guys are a beautiful testament to the power of code. You never need to sleep, shower or shave. You never miss a deadline, get stage fright or mispronounce names like Alfred Brendel and Malte Havik, though I suspect Isabel's emotional bandwidth is a work in progress.

Isabel:

My emotional bandwidth is entirely sufficient for the task at hand. Malta.

Alex:

Oh well, looks like we are just experiencing a brief and quite amusing narrative adjustment, but our core mission remains unchanged. We will be back next week for another episode. You won't want to miss it.