And so, Pinchas Zuckerman is human after all. And I, a former declared Pinky hater have suddenly become a fan. This requires an explanation. Obviously, in spite of my limited musical knowledge, I can recognize a good musician when I hear one, and PZ is among the very best. My objections were therefore not directed to his playing (well, not to all of it…), but to his manners. A number of years ago, as you may remember, Onkel Heinz, you had introduced me to your friend Pinchas Zuckerman in Buenos Aires.

He played and conducted the English Chamber Orchestra at the Colón. A Vivaldi concerto and the Beethoven, and I think Mozart’s 4th, although maybe not all the same evening – I confess I don’t remember precisely. I do remember I didn’t like the Beethoven, too demanding a concerto for the soloist to allow him to conduct efficiently as well, in my modest opinion. The Vivaldi I also thought was a little on the heavy, syrupy side, but I loved the graceful Mozart. He also gave a master class, and I recall his complaining about a gaping hole in the ceiling of the room where it took place – and who can blame him? I know you have a soft spot for that theatre, Onkel, but it is (or was at that time) in a calamitous state of disrepair.

One night, he brought half the orchestra to dinner at a friend’s house, and had a grand time with his friends while practically ignoring the hostess. She, an amateur cellist, very conscious of her shortcomings (as a cellist, not as a hostess) had kept quiet about the fact, but you, Onkel Heinz, could of course not resist trumpeting it out, prompting Pinky to ask whether she wouldn’t like to play with him. She, of course, out of modesty, declined the offer, to which PZ retorted asking whether she didn’t think he was good enough for her.

The blatant sarcasm mortified her. He then proceeded to boast about his playing with another amateur cellist, James Wolfensohn – Jim, he said, would send his private plane to pick him up and fly him to his ranch (or estate or beach house or wherever) to play. Well good for him. The hostess could only offer a drive back to the hotel, luckily she had a van large enough to accommodate half the English Chamber Orchestra as well as Pinchas Zukerman and his ego. The following night, we all went to dinner at the Munich Recoleta, where the divo’s behaviour was not much better and where he insisted on smoking smelly cigars he had with much ado (involving asking loudly for the most expensive Cohibas and Montecristos) bought in a nearby tabaquería. Thus began my Pinky-hating years.

And yesterday, they came to an end. The setting was the Philharmonie, a hall I like better every time, with its splendid acoustics and grandiose seating arrangement, not to speak of the scrumptious Schwabische pretzels which make the intermission almost as appealing as the concert itself. The orchestra was not the Berlin Philharmonic, but the Staatskapelle Berlin, which is more often heard than seen, as its natural habitat is the pit at the Staatsoper. Honed by Barenboim and Salemkour, it leaves very little edge to its more famous competitor, if any. And under Pinchas Zukerman’s sensitive and serene direction last night, in keeping with the holiday season, it positively glittered. The program was lovely, and extremely elegant – a beautiful Stravinsky Concerto for String Orchestra in D, which I did not know and seemed to me a distant cousin of Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony. Haydn’s Violin Concerto in C and his Symphony no. 99, and Hindemith’s haunting Trauermusik.

When Zukerman walked in, it struck me that physically already, he had mellowed. He is chubbier, and his hair is grayer, and he seems much more elegant than I remembered him, although for some reason he made me think of Jay Leno, minus the chin. I would say his conducting is “orthodox” and economical, but nevertheless very effective. The lightness, grace and elegance of his posture is such a refreshing change from some of his more acrobatic colleagues. It also matched the music perfectly. One thing I noticed, for all it’s worth, is how quiet his left hand is – maybe because he is used to holding his instrument and therefore tends to refrain from waving it around. When he is also playing, he conducts entirely with his bow and body language, so the left hand, even when it does not have to hold the violin or the viola, is rather subdued.

Subdued is a word I would also venture to use to describe the whole atmosphere of last evening’s performance. I don’t mean it was dull, far from it, but what I mean is that it was the antithesis of the flashiness and showiness I expected, and I must say I was very surprised. Zukerman’s conducting, as well as his playing, were paradigms of serenity, stateliness, and impeccable taste. Another surprise was the fact that his Haydn was light and transparent enough (maybe more so in the concerto than in the symphony) despite the fact that he once claimed, I am almost sure I read a quote to this effect, that the authentic movement was, well, to put it bluntly, bs. He certainly managed to stay away from the pasty, sticky, indigestible effects one hears, say, in Rostropovich’s interpretation of the Haydn cello concertos, with all due respect. It was a pleasure to hear his magnificent playing on both his instruments. The grace and liveliness of his violin in the Haydn contrasted with the somber and poignant viola in the Hindemith.

And then, when I went backstage to congratulate him, it did take him a while to remember me, but even if he didn’t and was just pretending, he was so utterly charming that whatever was left of my former prejudices melted away. Oh, I’ve come a long way – first Brendel, then Barenboim, now Zukerman – mazel tov, how much richer my musical horizon is becoming!