By Lidice Valenzuela
Cubanow
August 10, 2004

Cubanow.- At 60, Frank Fernandez treasures important recognitions as a pianist and a composer, but believes he is just now beginning to learn to play the piano.

He talked with Cubanow in his studio located in Havana’s Miramar neighborhood, where he usually records his discs.

Fernandez recalled his hometown of Mayari, his preparation in Cuba, his scholarship at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory in Moscow, great teachers like Victor Merchanov, and also those who are no longer among us anymore but who gave him the feeling that guided his mind and heart in his compositions.

He talked about music and politics, about his children and friends, the discs he’s recorded and those to be recorded. Also, about his interest in the formation of a Cuban school of piano.

Fernandez is a Cuban of our times, determined when the calendar marks his life’s sixth decade, to learn more, to discover what is not found in books or to express music in another way.

Cubanow: In spite of your great artistic merits, you’ve never played in the United States. Why?

FF: Among other reasons, because it hasn’t been possible to materialize the few invitations I have received. Almost all my work regarding the United States has been marked –and not by me- by a political hue including very important economical offerings but in exchange for concessions about which I’m not even interested in discussing. I really consider it important to play in the United States. Among other things, because I have a lot of relatives there. When the entrepreneur who hires me counts all the relatives I have there, he’s going to end up thinking that half the theatre will be filled by my family and friends.

Cubanow: So, would you like to play for the American public?

FF: I would play with great pleasure in the United States. Not considering the fact that my formation is Latin American and European, I think I could have a space in that country.

Cubanow: Have you approached American music?

FF: On many occasions. I even won a great classic music prize granted by the Cuban recording company EGREM with a seemingly unusual duet and, in my opinion, a very natural one. It was the recording of Rhapsody in Blue, by George Gershwin, and the Danzas para piano, by Ernesto Lecuona. It was the first time both composers appeared together.

Cubanow: What do you think of the recent US measures aimed at reinforcing Cuba’s isolation, even in the field of culture?

FF: I think the measures are very stupid and they will become a boomerang. What they have done in the field of culture is to awaken even more the necessity to meet and communicate among us. Some friends have invited me. I wouldn’t have considered it at any other moment in order to dedicate myself completely to my work or my life, but now I’m willing because the US government is forbidding me to do it. Everything that is forbidden is delightfully tempting. On the other hand, both peoples suffer. I have a terrible personal story because my only two nephews are Cuban-Americans. After they had turned 40 and 30 years of age, respectively, my sister decided to go with them. Now, due to the new regulations, they are supposedly not my family and they’re not authorized to travel to Cuba. And that has given us great pain. The thing I want most –and at this time more than before when my wish was already great- is for the barrier that prevents us from meeting to be taken down. And it’s a barrier forced by the Bush administration.

Cubanow: What role can artists play in bringing both countries closer together?

FF: We artist have always been the spearhead in all historical changes, in taking down barriers of any kind. And that’s why I consider extraordinarily humanist and intelligent the attitude of my country’s leadership regarding culture and respect for intellectuals. I don’t think that happens in all countries and it’s a right, a merit that culture has won. To be an artist is basically to be revolutionary. I tell you this even when political or ideological concepts may not be coincidental. I say Revolutionary with capital letters, not only in the way of the Cuban revolution or in the way of the Russian, French or American revolutions. An artist is genetically revolutionary and humanist. Although there are disastrous examples; I know them too, but they’re exceptions.

Cubanow: You recently returned to Moscow. How did it go?

FF: It was just sensational. I hadn’t traveled to Russia for fourteen years. Now they classify me as the creator of the “contemporary school of Cuban piano.” And for me, said in the world’s strongest piano school, that’s a very big honor, not only for Cuba but also for Latin America. In the first place, because of the tradition that exists from Ignacio Cervantes –a Cuban pianist that won the Gold Medal in Paris in the 19th Century. It was reinforced by Ernesto Lecuona, especially with his dances for piano that reaffirm our nationality. Since the breaking of relations with the US, after 1959, we received most of the influence from Eastern Europe. I was one of the first to get a scholarship, in 1966, when I won a contest sponsored by Cuba’s National Union of Writers and Artists (UNEAC). My students have received around 27 international prizes without having to study abroad. Victor Rodriguez in Moscow, Jorge Luis Prats in Paris, Leonel Morales in Spain, Rodolfo Argudin in Switzerland, Elisa Pedroso in Brazil, Eliazar Herrera in Venezuela, these are just some examples. These were the arguments they used in Russia to state that there is already a Cuban school of piano.

Cubanow: What contribution did Moscow make to your Caribbean spirituality?

FF: Meeting Victor Merchanov, a man who is now Emeritus Artist of the Russian people, an eminent pianist and teacher. I had listened to his discs and I felt it was a privilege. When I learned that he was coming as a member of the jury for a contest sponsored by the UNEAC, I studied twice as hard. I was lucky to be his disciple in Moscow. Today he continues to be one of the highest points in the Russian school. The fortune of his liking me and that I worked really hard, placed me in an advantageous situation. His rigor gave me a definitive backing. Some snowflakes fell and stayed some time in that Caribbean soul. Merchanov worked on perfection. I think the snowflakes melted under the Caribbean’s intense heat but one of my professor’s greatest teachings stayed with me. On one occasion, while repeating a passage in Beethoven’s fourth concert, I told him: “Master, I know I’m not doing it perfectly, but I’m looking for a spiritual world I intuitively know is there and the search for perfection takes me along other ways.” And he replied: “Frank, you have to look for the greatest perfection, you have to struggle ten, twenty, one thousand or one million times to achieve a completely polished work. Then, when you go on stage, if you have the talent you have, throw yourself into improvisation. Invent the music. That’s the wonder. But if your improvisation is not good, perfection is there behind it.”

Cubanow: Do you think you could have had a similar formation in another part of the world?

FF: I think that at that time in New York, because of the presence of many teachers of Russian-origin, I could have had that formation or a similar one. I always dreamed of going in-depth into the principles of the Russian school of piano because I consider it the strongest of all. What I think I wouldn’t have found in any other part of the world is the great amount of complementary elements that were found there, like taking part in classes by the world’s best cellists, in rehearsals by the world’s best pianists, listening not only to the best Russian orchestras but also New York’s. Moscow was a very important cultural center for me.

Cubanow: Did the fact of studying in Europe allow you a better understanding of European composers?

FF: I think so. To play on one of Frank Liszt’s last pianos, on one of Beethoven’s last pianos, to hear the story of what Tchaikovsky said in Rachmaninov’s piano examination and to sit on the same stage and chair where those two great monsters of music once sat, was undoubtedly a possibility to get near to them. But for many years I’ve had the suspicion that real talent is capable of discovering the essence of many things without being in direct contact with them. I think that’s the difference between an erudite persona and a talented person.

Cubanow: What are you doing now?

FF: I stopped teaching formally some 18 years ago and I’ve stressed two elements in my work that I’m really passionate about and I believe one of them needs a specific age, and that is doing concert tours. The other is my work as composer to which, due to my passion and commitment to direct teaching (two or three classes a week), I cannot devote enough time. And I still give masterful classes in Cuba and abroad, promoting discs from the more than 60 productions I’ve made in all genres.

Cubanow: What has Mayari given you spiritually?

FF: Not only are the remains of my parents in Mayari but also the genesis of what I am. And the answer to why I embrace so many genres, from a disc by Silvio Rodriguez or Adalberto Alvarez to concerts with Chucho Valdes. That answer is in Mayari. There were two cultural forums there: my mother’s classic piano academy, where I became familiar when I was three or four years old with Beethoven, Schumann, Liszt, Mozart, Schubert; and the house of Martinez Melendez, director of the municipal band. In the latter, in 1948 or 1949, names were a little easier to pronounce, but music was as beautiful as the one made in my mother’s house. I learned of Sindo Garay and Manuel Corona there. I became familiar with the songs by Pepe Sanchez, Maria Teresa Vera, Miguel Matamoros. And for me, it was equally beautiful to hear Schubert or songs like Perla Marina by Sindo. I dare any musician with good taste to tell me if they are not in the same category from the musical point of view, independently of the fact that one was composed by a brilliant man, with great academic knowledge, in Austria, and the other, by a man without any academic formation in Cuba. In that way in which music comes into my senses, I believe is found the genesis of the love I have for all styles.

Cubanow: You’re the father of two young musicians. Did you want that career for your children?

FF: I would have really preferred them to be something else. They both decided it. The girl, without misgivings. She’s an excellent pianist. The boy is also a promising oboist who now studies in Morelia with a great Cuban professor.

Cubanow: You will be 60 this year. Does that have a special meaning to you?

FF: I’ve been paid much homage and I appreciate it but I don’t want any more. They make me feel like death is just around the corner. Apart from a concert Silvio Rodriguez, Pancho Amat and his Cabildo, Adalberto Alvarez and Santiaguito Feliu -they are all part of my “family”- offered me, and didn’t make me perform, the rest have been concerts I’ve given. This year we have two round anniversaries: my 60 years of age and 45 of artistic career. I think I’m beginning to mature artistically and that I’m starting to learn to play the piano. And that makes me very happy.