Alfred Brendel, 1931 – 2025
All of us at Universal Music are deeply saddened by the passing of our beloved Alfred Brendel. We extend our sincere condolences to Maria and the family.
Alfred was a quiet colossus, pianist and polymath, a supreme interpreter of a repertoire spanning Bach to Berg, Schubert to Schoenberg. He once wrote: “I am certain that my pianistic life would have taken a different course without the readiness of the public to continue listening to me both in the concert hall and through the loudspeakers. Nothing could have made me happier than the awareness that I did not owe my reputation to a giant publicity drum but to the appeal of my playing”.
Brendel’s playing was documented in an extraordinary legacy for the Philips label, encompassing almost four decades of recording and which, appropriately, began and ended with his beloved Beethoven. This legacy will live on, together with the countless musicians and music-lovers inspired by his performance and teaching, his poetry, his wit and wisdom.
Below we share reminiscences of those who worked with him in the studio.
Martha De Franciso, Brendel’s long-standing recording producer, writes:
For twenty years, I had the privilege of working as Alfred Brendel’s record producer and helped him realise the production of many major albums and complete concerto and sonata cycles. Together, we worked to capture his preferred sonic signature – one that became a defining feature of his recorded legacy. As recording technology advanced in the late 20th century – from analog to digital, stereo to surround sound, low to high definition – each new development brought questions about how to best produce a recording that incorporated the clarity, character and sonic envelopment that Alfred Brendel’s musical interpretations demanded.
The recording process reflected Alfred’s artistic integrity, thorough understanding of the composers’ works, and meticulous preparation. Alfred taught me what is important in music, and what is less relevant; he was committed to keeping the music alive and resisted excessive technical manipulations. He was able to show how spontaneity in a well-prepared performance allowed the music to retain a sense of freshness and immediacy.
Beyond music, Alfred was a humanist whose curiosity and intellectual pursuits – in art, literature, and the history of ideas – enriched his musical performances. Our collaborations were interwoven with discussions on Renaissance painting, Baroque architecture, and contemporary opera performance. I cherished these moments, which revealed his deep engagement with a world beyond the keyboard, and reflected this richness back into the music.
Costa Pilavachi, former President of Philips Classics, writes:
Alfred Brendel, who died peacefully at home on 17 June, was one of the most consequential pianists of our time. His recordings of the music of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms and Liszt are standard-setters and to my ears sound as fresh today as when they were made. Alfred avoided gimmicks and believed in presenting the music unembellished of mannerisms and other accoutrements often added by interpreters. Yet there was nothing boringly academic about his playing, suffused as it was with energy and good humour.
I had the honour and pleasure to work with Alfred Brendel for more than four decades, first as concert presenter, later as the person responsible for his recording career at Philips Classics and Decca. He was the ideal artistic partner. Alfred always knew what he wanted, he was very direct, cooperative, happy to talk about his work with intelligent people and he had the great advantage of being one of the most successful performers and recording artists of his time, both critically as well as commercially.
As a recording artist he was exacting, but not pedantic. I recall a passionate debate over the sound of his new late Schubert cycle, digitally recorded and released on CD around 1989. He was convinced that his earlier, analogue recordings had a more ambient sound. His producer at the time was the legendary but somewhat eccentric Volker Straus who was incandescent about the criticism. Volker was convinced that what Alfred missed in his new recordings was what he dismissively called “tape hiss” in the older recordings and it took many months of shuttle diplomacy on my part to bring the two sides together. I believe that Volker reluctantly added some natural “fizz” to the new recordings and this added “warmth” seemed to placate Alfred who eventually approved the cycle for release.
Soon after this, Volker retired and Martha De Francisco oversaw Alfred’s recordings for the rest of his career. Theirs was a most harmonious and productive relationship. One of the great projects they did together was the Beethoven concerto cycle, Alfred’s third for Philips. This was a project that I first suggested to Alfred. He was surprised that his label wanted a third set of this cycle. But my idea was to pair him with the Vienna Philharmonic which would make this set stand out. Surprisingly, Alfred had almost no discography with this great orchestra. I asked Alfred which conductor he would like to have. He answered immediately: Simon Rattle, at that time an artist signed to EMI. Through some very civilised and bibulous negotiations with my colleagues at EMI we secured Rattle’s release and the scheduling fell into place almost immediately. The concerts that led to the studio recordings were breathtaking and joyful and I am immensely proud of the resulting box set. Above all, I was thrilled that I was able to make Alfred so happy. As a footnote, this “swap” with EMI led to a Schubert Trout Quintet recording with Alfred and EMI’s exclusive and wonderful Alban Berg Quartet, on their label.
Alfred was great fun to be with, sporting a famously quirky sense of humour and we had many marvellous dinners over the years where we gossiped ruthlessly about our colleagues in the music world. On more than one occasion, I had to rescue him from unpleasant situations. Two incidents at Tanglewood stand out. Alfred was a visiting soloist with the Boston Symphony, I was the Artistic Administrator and we put Alfred up at one of the most luxurious inns in the Berkshires. The lady manager was enamoured of Alfred’s music, tickled pink that he was staying at her hostelry and she pulled out all the stops. Unfortunately, this included playing Brendel CDs on the hotel PA system while he was there. Eventually, he called me in despair lamenting that he could no longer hide from himself and I had to call the dear lady begging her to shelve her CDs and restore nature’s silence to her lovely inn.
On that same visit, I accompanied Alfred to fellow pianist Leon Fleisher’s 60th birthday party. Leonard Bernstein, who had never met Alfred, was also there and we were seated at the same picnic table. I introduced Alfred. Lenny, waving and munching on a huge chicken drumstick which he had lifted from the barbecue, launched into a huge paean, exalting Fleisher’s immense gifts, but in a way which seemed shockingly disrespectful to poor Alfred. As soon as he could, Alfred dug me in the ribs hissing that we should get out of there.
Humanity has lost one its most civilised advocates, a legendary musician but also a poet, a humourist, an observer and chronicler of life’s absurdities, a wonderful father, a loving companion to his partner Maria and a loyal, caring friend to many around the world.
