Ronald Brautigam

In years gone by, the very sight of a fortepiano in a concert hall might have sent audiences haring for the exit. Thankfully, says Brautigam, perceptions of the instrument have since changed for the better

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Ronald Brautigam’s career with the fortepiano, which has shaped his musical life, came about by chance. In Amsterdam in the late 1980s, he found that he was living only two streets away from the American piano-builder Paul McNulty who had begun, after a short period with Steinway in New York, to explore the world of the early piano. Brautigam’s visit to McNulty’s workshop proved decisive. ‘It was a happy accident, no more. I played an instrument, and I knew I wanted to have it. I ordered one.’ Mozart’s Sonata in F major, K332 proved enough. ‘I heard it quite differently, and everything seemed so natural.’

Brautigam had studied with pianist Rudolf Serkin in the early ’80s, and when I ask whether he’d discussed the fortepiano with that legendary player, he smiles. ‘No. He would have thought there was no point, and at that time so would I. It was simply not something that you would speak about.’

There is an intriguing history, however. Peter Serkin, Rudolf ’s son, has combined has overwhelming enthusiasm for late-Romantic piano music with recordings of Beethoven sonatas on instruments of the time, and found no difficulty in moving comfortably between the two worlds. Within ten years or so of completing his own studies in traditional style, Brautigam was established as a master of older instruments – when he was still in AR his 30s – and since then has been one of the figures who has brought the fortepiano in from the cold. He speaks about the change with affection and some amusement, having watched audiences warm to performances that reveal a different sound without sounding odd. He accepts there was a time when many people would stay away if they thought a fortepiano was going to be involved.