“He who has no time must make time” is a Confucian maxim with dangerous implications for musicians. The line separating the moment of satisfaction from an expanse of respectable boredom is thin. And it’s different for everyone, informed by mood or previous experience. As I got on the bus at the Elbphilharmonie after a recent concert, the discussion was still raging. One listener didn’t recognize “her” Schumann: much too breathless, no space for punctuation. Another disagreed: She found the final movement too sluggish. Clearly, the performance was one of those over which people fight. 


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