For the next 35 years, the fourth and fifth fingers of his right hand involuntarily clenched into his palm, Fleisher sought an accurate diagnosis and treatment for his disorder–one that afflicts some 300,000 Americans. Gradually, concentrating on teaching and composing, he mastered the literature of left-handed piano technique. He has been on the faculty at the Peabody Conservatory of Music in Baltimore since 1959. His worldwide search for a cure ended in the mid-1990s when an injection of Botox, of all things, relaxed his fingers, allowing him to play two-handed piano for the first time in decades. (Botox, a toxin that causes botulism, is better known for its cosmetic use as a muscle relaxant that smoothes the wrinkles of aging celebrities, among others.) Now in the middle of a worldwide tour, Fleisher has just signed with Vanguard Classics to record his first two-handed album in 40 years. He spoke with NEWSWEEK’s Brian Braiker on a recital stage at Carnegie Hall recently about his return to two-handed playing and what 35 years in one-handed wilderness taught him about music. Excerpts:
NEWSWEEK: What was it like to play with both hands again after 35 years?
Leon Fleisher: Use your imagination. [Turns to the piano and plays a joyful, rousing interpretation of J.S. Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze,” almost shouting along to the music] … I call that my answer to Mel Gibson. [Laughs]
Having dystonia must have forced you to rethink your relationship with music.
Yes. I’ve had to think about music in a much more detailed manner than I ever had before so that I could really describe what I’m doing. But it also brought me to the point that I could find reasons that are irresistible for why I do it. I think I became a far better musician; I became a far better teacher. I started to conduct, and that’s a totally different experience. With an instrument you have a direct input and direct response out of a piano. Conducting through gesture you have to influence 100 professional people who are essentially very skeptical. Many of them are frustrated soloists and conductors themselves. So you have to be very clear and good about what your goals are.
You make it sound like having dystonia was a positive thing.
This may sound Pollyannaish, but if I were to live my life over again, I’m not so sure I would change anything. That says a hell of a lot. But what I discovered about music and about musicians and feelings has been such an eye-opener. When you’re on a blinded course as a two-handed piano player, just going in the one direction: you play your concerts; you play with orchestras; you make your records. That’s it until you have a heart attack on stage and die. This has been such a growth experience for me.
What remedies did you try over the course of your 35 years?
I tried L-dopa [a drug used to treat Parkinson’s disease], I tried aromatherapy, I tried acupuncture. I had help from a physical therapy called Rolfing. That helped deal with a contracted state of muscles. They can stretch out, over a period of time, fibers of tissue in your muscle that have been contracted for years. That’s very useful.
Is dystonia very painful?
No, it wasn’t. That’s what’s so damnable about it. For some people it is painful, but for many people it is not painful.
I noticed that the fingers on your right hand still curl in a little bit. Yes, but they’re not clenched. So for 35 years, your right hand was useless. Can you talk a little about what you did with your left hand?
There is a certain [piano] literature for the left-hand. It’s not because of somebody who had dystonia. There was an Austrian pianist who lived in the time of World War I who was [a] brother [of] the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. Paul Wittgenstein was a soldier in the war, and got his right arm shot off. He was another obsessive-compulsive, so he used part of his fortune to commission works from the great composers of the day to write music for him: concertos for left hand and orchestra. And I’m playing one of them in May with the Philharmonic over [at] Lincoln Center. It’s the Ravel [Piano Concerto in D], which is an absolute masterpiece. It’s unbelievable, for one hand or two hands or 10 hands; it’s just a great piece of music.
You play it with one hand? What is your right hand doing?
Oh, scratching my nose. I figure I should learn to juggle grapefruits with my right hand. [Laughs] Actually, what I’ve done is play and conduct at the same time.
Aside from Ravel, what are you playing on your tour?
Lukas Foss, who is an important American composer today, wrote me a concerto. There’s going to be a week of concerts [at the Peabody] that’s ending up with me playing the Foss Concerto for the Left Hand, which was commissioned for me by the Boston Symphony. In other words, through my condition I’ve been able to add to the literature, which is really kind of cool. So I’ll be playing the Foss and the Ravel, then I go to Europe to teach and to play. Then I come back and I do Brahms in Baltimore, my hometown.
Is your playing on par with what it was before dystonia hit?
Well, I’m 75. I don’t play the way I used to. Maybe I bring compensating aspects.
You have said that the old ways of teaching music may be effective in passing knowledge from generation to generation, but that they don’t really work. Can you explain that?
You have to question. It’s been kind of the popular conception over the years to teach little children to play with fingers curved, fingers like little hammers. To play with a curved finger is a very complex activity because you have to contract the flexor, you have to let the extensor stretch and then on top of that you have to pull another extensor to pull the whole damn thing up before then whap [onto the keys]. That’s unhealthy. It’s what you might call “Russian School.” A lot of people can do it and a lot of people can’t. If you look at two of the greatest pianists of the 20th century on film, Vladimir Horowitz and Glenn Gould, they play with long, flat fingers. Not exclusively; I’m not recommending anything exclusively. If you want to get a thousand different sounds in music, then you need a thousand different ways of playing the piano. But you don’t find any piano teachers that teach their kids to play with flat fingers.
Are you still getting Botox injections?
Yup. Every six to eight months. I get it in here [points to the inside of his forearm, just below where it bends]; that’s where the nerve meets the muscle that tells these fingers to curl up. The botox erects a wall so that message from the nerve doesn’t get through.
So you’re treating the symptom, but not dystonia itself. Do you worry about exacerbating the condition by continuing to play?
No. Now that I’ve had about five injections and that covers about four years. No. It also is amazing how it doesn’t have side effects because it’s not absorbed into the bloodstream. It goes right into the muscle.
Do you find that, thanks to Botox, your right hand is now better looking or less wrinkled than your left? [Laughs]
