Rados

By Sára Wagner

Ferenc Rados once said that writing an autobiography is a painful task. “You see, I usually get it over with in a single sentence.” That sentence was: former professor at the Liszt Ferenc Academy of Music. He was a private man. As early as 1979, the press wrote that he “rarely appears in public.” One could list the awards and honors he received, but that would be very uncharacteristic of him. “He brushes off any kind of praise or attempt at recognition as easily as cigarette ash; any objective assessment of his work inevitably becomes laughable in light of the belief – grounded in profound artistic truths – that has been the guiding thread of his entire life,” wrote pianist Zoltán Kocsis. One thing is certain: without his nearly seven-decade career, his work, and its impact, the history of Hungarian musical life in the twentieth century could not be fully accounted for. It is no exaggeration to say that he and his wife, Rita Wagner, were among the most important figures in music education both nationally and internationally. When asked how Rados’s personality and musical language could be captured, György Kurtág replied that one need only observe how he taught. It is certainly difficult to find words for him; the conventional form and turns of phrase of a biography do not suit him.

Rados’s first piano teacher was Lajos Delej. In 1959, he graduated as a piano teacher from the Liszt Ferenc Academy of Music, where he studied under István Antal and Pál Kadosa. In 1955, he won second prize at the World Youth Festival in Warsaw. He studied for a year at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory in Moscow under Viktor Merzhanov, a period that, as his memoirs reveal, was significant for him. Between 1958 and 1964, he was a scholarship pianist with the National Philharmonic, where György Kurtág taught him as a répétiteur. He performed as a soloist in many concerts with the State Concert Orchestra and also played in chamber music concerts. “In Rados, it is precisely his receptiveness to the message that is his most valuable artistic trait,” they wrote about him in 1959, when he performed Beethoven’s Piano Concerto in C minor under the baton of Ervin Lukács. He gave up playing the piano on several occasions. During one such period, he worked as a music director at Hungarian Radio.

From 1964, he taught at the Béla Bartók Secondary School of Music. That same year, following one of his concerts, his close friend András Pernye wrote the following about him: “Every note on Rados’s piano sounds organic and meaningful, and the tone quality is beautiful.” From the late 1960s, he also taught at the Academy of Music; György Kurtág recommended that he serve as an assistant professor alongside Pál Kadosa. In the early years, he worked with pianists who would later gain international recognition, such as Zoltán Kocsis, Dezső Ránki, András Schiff, and Imre Rohmann. From 1974, he served as an associate professor at the Academy of Music, and later as a full professor, until his retirement. His students included Izabella Simon, Edit Klukon, Dénes Várjon, András Kemenes, Gábor Takács-Nagy, Barnabás Kelemen, András Keller, and Ditta Rohmann. The list is endless. As Szilvia Becze put it before her concert began at the Brahms Marathon in 2017, he had in fact taught “every one of our world-famous pianists today.” Orchestras and chamber ensembles also regularly sought her out to hear them play, including Iván Fischer and the Festival Orchestra, Anima Musicae, and the Kelemen Quartet. She shaped the relationship of many generations to music—I believe the phrase “once and for all” applies in her case.

In the 1970s and 1980s, he published several works addressing issues in music pedagogy and early music performance. He was among the first to give a concert on the fortepiano in Hungary. According to András Schiff, “the fortepiano interested him because it also broadened his horizons. At that time, the spread of historical performance practice was just beginning, and Rados believed—correctly—that he, too, had to learn from it.”

Since the mid-1990s, he has given numerous master classes in Spain, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, England, and Japan. He has been a leading teacher at festivals and seminars such as the Verbier Festival, the International Music Seminar founded by Sándor Végh, the Weimar Summer Courses, the Escuela Reina Sofia, the Aula de Música, and the Kronberg Academy. Perhaps it is worth highlighting the International Music Seminar held in Prussia Cove, whose artistic director is Rados’s close friend, Steven Isserlis, and where György Kurtág also taught. On the international stage, Rados became the mentor of artists such as Kirill Gerstein and Leonidas Kavakos. He returned to concert performance in 2010 at the first Kaposfest, following decades of silence.

Given his stature, few recordings preserve his playing; his modesty is partly reflected in the fact that we know of only one solo album of his, on which he plays Schumann pieces. The recording in which he performs Mozart’s Piano Concertos in A major and C major with the Franz Liszt Chamber Orchestra was released in 1979. In 1982, Hungaroton released his Schubert album with Dénes Kovács and Ede Banda. In 1985, his album *The Art of the Fugue* was released with Zoltán Kocsis. In 2021, she recorded Mozart sonatas with Kirill Gerstein. Gerstein noted that Rados played exactly as she taught in her lessons. This idea may be related to what György Kroó expressed: “On her piano, every single piece is played in the first person.”

Zoltán Kocsis said that, whether as a student or a chamber music partner, he could not recall a single instance where anything Rados said was not about music—and nothing but music. Kavakos emphasized that “he doesn’t want to impose his own path on others—for him, every path is possible and conceivable, as long as it is convincing, meaningful, and based on an understanding of the work. Most teachers say, ‘You must play it this way and that way,’ period; they lay out the path and try to drill it into their students. Rados doesn’t want to hear imitations of himself. I think that’s what real teaching is.” His wife put it this way: “He is the kind of musician who, whenever anyone comes into contact with him, has a tremendous impact on every single person.” His constant questioning and doubt led him to the deepest truths. He judged not only the world but also himself by a ruthless standard. He never gave “easy” or self-evident answers. In a letter, when asked in what order he would rank the most renowned pianists, he replied: “Isn’t it most natural? In the context of history, cultural history, political history, communicational history, (my personal history…) liking an interpretation is something pretty temporary.”