NEWS

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I am so happy to be coming back to Japan - and so sad that it is under the present tragic circumstances. Unless disaster strikes (God forbid) I have no intention of cancelling my visit. Last year, I had to cancel my tour for personal reasons. My many friends in Japan, the promoters and my Japanese managers were all wonderfully supportive and understanding; there is no way I am going to let them down this year.

Without realising it at the time, of course, I chose a programme all too appropriate for the new situation in Japan. After the magical Fantasy-pieces by my beloved Schumann, Sam Haywood and I are going to play Chopin's late sonata, one of the most tragic masterpieces ever written for the cello. Composed during Chopin's troubled last years, and at times almost modernistic in its language, it is a complex and moving work full of inner conflict and strength. I have played it at some of the most difficult times of my life, and it means a lot to me; and I think it's safe to say that Chopin in general is Sam Haywood's most beloved composer.

That taste was shared by my grandfather Julius Isserlis, who as a young boy used to sleep with the music of Chopin under his pillow! Sam and I will begin the second half of the programme with my grandfather's Ballade for cello and piano. (Julius Isserlis wrote mostly for solo piano, and every piece of his involves the piano - just like Chopin. And, to my delight, Sam has made a speciality of performing my the music of Julius Isserlis, as well as that of Chopin.) The Ballade, dedicated to my cello-hero, Pablo Casals, is a tuneful, nostalgic work. I played it once at a festival organised by the great pianist Andras Schiff; his comment was: 'I wish I'd had a grandfather who composed music like that!'

Following the Ballade is an arrangement of two songs that sum up too much of what Japan is going through at the moment: Ravel's two Hebraic Melodies, the first a Kaddish, frequently chanted at Jewish funerals, and a short Yiddish song entitled 'the Eternal Enigma'. This performance will of course be dedicated to the victims of the recent tragedy. Perhaps it is as well that we finish on a far more positive note, with Poulenc's charming sonata. Although it was begun during the second world war, and has its poignant moments, it is overall a celebration. I think it will be needed.

There will be another note of farewell for our recital at Kioi Hall: this will be the last concert I shall be playing on the Feuermann Stradivarius cello, so kindly lent to me for so many years by the Nippon Music Foundation. I love this instrument, and will be sad to say goodbye to it. But I now have the chance to play another Stradivarius cello, and it would be selfish of me to hang on to the Feuermann. No-one needs two Stradivarius instruments! So this will in a way be an ending; but my friendship with the Nippon Music Foundation will endure. And I hope that I will continue to come and savour the many, many delights of Japan (including, of course, the uniquely music-loving audiences) for many years to come.

Steven Isserlis