By JEANNETTE FANG

It's a little embarrassing to eat in front of Stephen Hough. Here he is, playing with his bottle of Poland Spring water and chattering away, while we jaw away at sandwiches and "ooh" and "aah" over how packed his touring schedule is.

Stephen Hough spoke to students at a Lunch With an Alum gathering on February 10. (Photo by Lisa Yelon)

"I'm terribly sorry, but my stomach's on a funny clock," he explains, having just arrived from Paris the previous night after giving a concert, where he had blended a program of Mozart, Tsontakis, Lizst-Busoni, and his own compositions.

Well, he certainly looks well adjusted despite the traveling, poised on his seat in a corduroy suit, his papery hair balancing neatly on his head. Hough is chatting with the small group of students who are partaking of his wisdom in the latest installment of the Lunch With an Alum series on February 10. There's no mistaking his English background, which he left behind in 1981 to come to Juilliard. He seems to remember his days here with pleasure, cracking jokes about his favorite classes and about how the first room he had rented in New York was, unbeknownst to him, at a welfare hotel for the mentally disturbed. After graduating with his master's in piano in 1983, he went on to win the Naumburg, and through a combination of what he said was "luck and hard work," he became one of the leading soloists of today, with around 40 recordings under his belt.

Hough is the type of speaker who could command the room for hours. His answers are fluid and insightful, full of practical wisdom on how to not only "make it" in music, but how to last and grow in it as well. The luncheon is like an entertaining advice column by a garrulous uncle, for he blends picturesque anecdotes and comedic commentary with the abandon of the socially gifted.

"But Mr. Hough … how much do you practice?"

"Ah. Well today, nothing so far. Nor the day before, because of the flight. Though the day before that, I got to warm up for an hour before the concert."

We discover quickly that this concert pianist is a man who likes to keep busy. His schedule is packed with touring, rehearsing, and recording, yet he still finds time to conduct, compose, write, and cheerfully honor his social obligations.

How does he manage?

"I keep a list by my piano of what I have to do—with dates. I really just prepare as much as possible, and utilize every practice opportunity possible. Hotel lounges, bars … I've practiced in a lot of bars throughout my time."

"Warm-ups are very useful as well, particularly if you warm up with different pieces than what you're performing."

"Which I suppose is a sort of neurosis of mine," he adds in an undertone. "I think if the piece turns out well in the warm-up, it means I won't be able to do it in the concert."

More practical questions follow, which he readily obliges.

"Learn things in advance. At least a year. And learn things really thoroughly the first time through, so that when you bring them back, they come easily."

He is emphatic about the merits of writing in fingerings, citing as an example that he would have never been able to bring back the Bartok Concerto in an hour if he hadn't had the fingerings written in from before.

He also asserts that one should learn from the score and not from recordings. "Then it's like making a discovery instead of a regurgitation."

In addition, one should have some pieces "on the go"—things that you work on once a week, so that they become like "bagels ready to go in the oven." And in practicing, start at different places so that the entire piece gets concentrated attention.

"I've heard many a pianist play the first theme better than the second."

Overall, pianists just have to "use imagination with their practice" in order to utilize their time well.

"What about repertoire, Mr. Hough?"

"Careers are made with orchestras," he responds, meaning that the young artist rises to fame through performing concertos. And in order to be successful at that, one has to have repertoire ready for any occasion. According to Hough, it's "too late" to learn a concerto only when a performance date is set with an orchestra, as schedules are changeable, and one can be called to substitute at any time. Having unusual concerti under one's belt is also a good idea, as well as learning shorter works. And, of course, one always has to have a few Mozarts in one's fingers, he says.

Naturally, the question of what prompts his own unusual repertoire choices arises. "Natural curiosity" and "sheer practicality" are his answers. The thought that "everyone who wrote for the piano put their personality into their compositions" entices him beyond the standard pieces.

"It's like the best-seller section of Borders. Wouldn't it be sad if everyone just stopped there?"

Through his success with the Scharwenka and Sauer concertos, he realized that people were open to and intrigued by new works, and that "the piano literature is full of surprises."

He stresses the importance of dealing with people—that performers have to remember that their audience is their employment, for, while it is "easy to get rather grand about these things," a performer has "a sort of moral obligation to be as helpful as one can."

But of course, all the logic and stratagems aside, Hough's advice is still always focused on the importance of artistry. He warns about how dangerous it is to "become obsessed with your career" because it tempts one to consider the "drug-like" addiction of gimmick. He urges us—with earnestness in his smile—to think in the long term, to have something to say, and to constantly develop ourselves.

One could very well just follow Hough's example. Flexibility, humor, amiability, extreme organization, great intelligence, and a memory for detail could make for a sound career. And of course, a freakish amount of energy couldn't hurt either.

Jeannette Fang is a third-year piano student.