Jeff Beck died recently. Jeff Beck was the man. My remaining guitar heroes have been flooding social media with self-centered tributes. It’s all about what Jeff did for them, but precious little about the man himself.
Who cares?
Martha died. I’ve been listening to a show of hers this morning. My coffee’s been suffering from the extra salt. I didn’t realize how much I miss her. You don’t know her, but you would have liked to. Here’s a remembrance that I hope will be more useful.
Martha was the first in the room for the first ever ragtime talk at her retirement home. She was enthusiastic, polite, drawing the best out of me, seeing potential. I didn’t do horribly.
It was afterwards she pointed out the retired Washington Post classical music critic sitting next to her. As for her own accomplishments:
“I did a ragtime program on the Voice of America radio station back in the early 90’s about women musicians. It was fun.”
Gulp. Thank goodness the talk was over.
Come to find out she had played solo piano at Carnegie Hall in the little room. “I put my ear to the stage door for the big room. Pete Seeger was doing a show.”
She toured China and taught music there, the first taste of the West for many of the students.
Even the New York Times favorably reviewed her - four times.
We became friends, and she told me riveting tales of lessons with Alexander Tcherepnin, how she would go on to record his works, collaborating with David Kraehenbuehl…
Once she hosted me at her apartment, with a beautiful spread of fresh cut fruit and snacks. The scrapbook was spellbinding.
My favorite story was of a composer - I forget his name - creating a piece so mathematically challenging he said it would be impossible to play live.
Martha took it as a challenge, and aced it note for note in front of an audience.
“So then what happened?” I asked, breathlessly.
“He asked me to marry him.”
“And then?”
“I turned him down.” She laughed and laughed. “Four times!”
Curiosity
Martha was intensely curious. She was a consummate professional when it came to being a concert pianist, and most importantly, she realized what she didn’t know.
And then she learned it.
It was scary. And it was an idea worth stealing.
I showed up talking about ragtime to the audience of senior citizens.
When I showed up next month, she had a Joplin piece learned, and played it for the room.
She realized blues was mysterious, so we had many conversations about that. At first, I missed the genius of her approach, being so intimidated talking with a concert pianist. (They’re the flying aces of music in my book.) Sure, she was in her 80’s, but I’d never played Carnegie Hall. What on earth could I offer her?
But she realized she didn’t know about Blues, so she talked to someone who was more familiar with the genre. She listened to the slide guitar, and Robert Johnson. She noted the AAB lyric form. Then she went and wrote a dramatic, emotional piece that wasn’t bluesy at all, but was still cool. And then she listened some more, peering intently through her glasses at all there was to learn.
A friend of hers died, and left her a seven foot Steinway piano. She had it moved into her apartment in Assisted Living. She played and composed.
The Best House Pianist Ever
Martha loved the night sky. I can almost feel her hand on my arm as she leaned forward, looking through a telescope set up after a star talk. “It’s so…beautiful.”
Earlier that evening, she had opened my lecture with an obscure piano piece about space. I wish I could remember the title. It was stunning. The room erupted in applause. “Martha Braden, everyone!” What a tickle to start off a program like that.
Podcasts
Then COVID happened. She was one of the main listeners to the Frankie Boi Radio podcast I did. When things let up a bit, she called me.
“Want to emcee my piano recital?”
“Uh, yeah!”
She put together a program called “Kaleid o Scope”, explained to me in an email:
“…we will explore the auditory sense, all of us together hearing something at the same moment. When the piano is played, the wires vibrate, and the music is amplified, is carried, out from under the piano, by the sound board which is vibrating the air!! then into your eardrums!! Music vibrations, whether you sense it or not, make impact on the the cells of our bodies, brains and on moods of the audience.
[An entire symphony orchestra can shake the entire auditorium floor.
A band can do likewise.]
We will hear short musical compositions--played one right after the other, in random order. Music from 1600 to the present:
1) ragtime and folk, (2 blues and jazz, 3) classical, 4)romantic, 5)modern, 6)popular tunes, and 7)Broadway.
[This is not a sing-along.]
The day arrived. The room was packed. I had on a suit. (She offered to rent me one. I told her I had it covered. Martha was very particular, and the occasion was taken with absolute seriousness.) It was strange to see normal life again.
The little lava light by the piano glowed. Everything was set. She went in the back to wait.
Would you please welcome…Ms. MARTHA BRADEN!
Thunderous applause.
I emceed the pieces, and perched on a chair while she played, transfixed. The keyboard came to life under her hands. The room sat in stunned silence.
Thank God I put my GoPro camera on the piano.
That was the last time I saw her.
We talked about doing another one. I moved. A call to her went unanswered.
Then a mutual friend broke the news.
Ah, Martha, how I’ll miss you. How we’ll all miss you. Oh, to forever be curious, to learn, to practice, to have standards, reverence, respect, dedication, discipline, and beautiful, beautiful music.
I hope she’s jamming with Sergei and Robert Johnson. I think they’d all be friends.
Sorta like Andy liking to learn from older folks! It was an excellent tribute!
Wow, This is lovely and such a delight to get to hear her play again.
Thanks Josh!