Nyíregyházi plays Chopin Mazurka 6-2, Mazurka 33-4, Prélude 28-10

Ervin Nyíregyházi (1903-1987), recorded in 1972

Certainly not a natural Chopinist... oh well... we discussed that before... played like a Lisztian rhapsody*... His tempi are slow even by today's standards, and his playing is rhythmically free even when compared to 19th century pianists such as Pachmann and Paderewski. With Nyíregyházi's approach, the printed text is merely a point of departure...
In the mazurka he also plays rather thick chords on the first beat that are not written. Every Nyíregyházi performance features these thickened chords - a Nyíregyházi "trademark". The results are more Nyíregyházi than Chopin, as Chopin was not in the habit of close-spacing bass chords.

Mazurka in B minor op.33 no.4: Chopin's tempo is "Mesto"... and Chopin's pupil Lenz said Chopin taught this as a ballade (!) and the composer described the end as a bell toll followed by chords sweeping away a cohort of ghosts...

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"Practice isn't important for me, because my performance is driven by my feeling and emotion ... I don't own a piano now. I don't need it, because I can always hear it. Even though there are no keys around me, I can feel them through my fingers and hand." Ervin Nyíregyházi

One empathizes with Nyíregyházi the Buddha as he careens from superstar to penniless drudge to adored advocate of romanticism and back to homelessness...

By now, the story of Ervin Nyíregyházi (1903-1987) has become so legendary, it scarcely needs repeating: a child-prodigy on the level of Mozart and Saint-Saens, a spectacular Carnegie Hall debut in 1920, a career flameout soon thereafter, ten marriages, and decades of poverty before a short lived rediscovery in the 1970s. There were sensational headlines, and much controversy among musicians and critics, but Nyíregyházi, uncompromising when it came to his artistic ideals, was unwilling to milk the publicity for the sake of money or status or fame. He refused lucrative offers to play in in Carnegie Hall, and refused to abandon his down-and-out lifestyle.

There are no proper recordings of him in his prime. He was only recorded later when he hadn't owned a piano or practiced properly in 40 years and he was usually very drunk. Kevin Bazzana released a book about his remarkable life (he had ten wives before his death, one of whom tried to murder him and one of whom was the mother of a previous wife), called "Lost Genius".

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