My first idol was the great Spanish cellist Pablo Casals. I bought every single LP I could get my hands on and for the longest time his way of soundproduction was how I wanted to sound myself. I loved the intensity, the articulation, the “interpretative” intonation (playing the minor thirds very low, leading notes very high etc.) and even the grunting were part of the package. My teacher Boris Pergamenschikow spent most of the three years I studied with him (1989-92) trying to teach me the more modern and generous way of playing the cello, but still in 1990, when I played for Norbert Brainin (1st violinist of the Amadeus Stringquartet) Beethoven’s C-Major-Sonata, he told me after waking up from his little nab he took during this 12 minute performance, that I reminded him of Emanuel Feuermann. I still have that comment on tape somewhere, and although I obviously couldn’t and still can’t play like Feuermann (maybe in my dreams), he was referring to my rather old-fashioned way of playing in general, not one particular cellist.

After spending some cold and wet days in Calgary, where I first played half a solo recital for the sponsors (oh, I was so jetlagged that I got lost twice in my 5th Bachsuite – well, isn’t it a nice excuse, the jetlag, although I tend to get lost in that piece with the tuned down A String more or less each time I have to play it :)) and then the following days for the first time in some while the Dvorak with the excellent Calgary Philharmonic under James Judd, I was supposed to have almost an entire day at home for repacking and family purposes – unfortunately (or finally again!) we are experiencing an amazing winter in Berlin, really cold, tons of snow but with the minor side effect of cancelled flights and long delays at various airports.

… don’t say anything. This very wise saying I kept in mind for the last few weeks, not writing a single sentence in this little blog here – batteries and head empty, time for retreat and recharging the run-down, abused system. One of my tricks how to deal with the stress of performing and travelling, the tristesse of being alone and without family, is simple: I ignore it, I pretend it doesn’t exist, I ask from myself to be superhuman – but at the end of the day, I am not, and I felt it very strongly after my last performance in Frankfurt on December 19 with two Boccherini Concertos (radio orchestra and Markus Stenz were my partners – don’t remember how it went at all, everything blanked out). I was ready for a good rest, and luckily enough I didn’t have to look at my cello for three weeks altogether, just enjoying the Christmas days in the circle of my rather large family (4 sibblings with tons of kids on their own) and my little one at home. Even New Year’s celebration was very calm but beautiful, with a very good friend coming over with his family, cooking together, drinking, talking, playing games – and suddenly it was midnight and for once we all went to bed early.

In an interview I was recently asked if after playing the premier of the Chin Concerto by heart there were no more risks to take. I didn’t quite understand the question, and I felt it was necessary to indulge a little bit in what “taking risks” actually means. Obviously it is the opposite to “playing it safe” which already at the age of 21 I felt wasn’t my way. My father wanted me to join his orchestra (Berlin Philharmonic) and I would have been safe for the rest of my life, at least financially. I opted against it, feeling deep inside the need to keep on living on the edge, with no fixed income.I remember very vividly when in April 1991 I played my debut in Tokyo. Together with Tomoko Masur, the conductor’s wife whom I had met there at a private party, I visited a Japanese temple where one could draw a little piece of paper, size and content similar to the ones in fortune cookies. I had the choice to disregard the prediction of ones future by throwing it away or accepting it by tying it to a certain cord which was hanging there. What I drew wasn’t very good: it said that my ship was still in safe waters but that it was directed into a huge storm, the outcome would be uncertain. Guess what – I accepted it!

Maybe it is nothing to be especially proud of, but I had a laugh when I realized a couple of months ago that I was going to play within four days with the two resident orchestras of the cities of Birmingham in Alabama as well as the “original” one in the UK. Pure coincidence, I promise, I had nothing to do with it. With both orchestras I have played before, obviously the one in England having the higher profile, but I must admit the Alabama Symphony did also quite a wonderful job with their energetic young British conductor (and pianist) Justin Brown.I just finished playing the second and last concert in Birmingham, UK, with the CBSO and their new chief conductor, Andris Nelsons, and it was maybe the most fulfilling Dvorak concerto I played so far. I met Andris three years ago – we did a tour together with the German Youth Orchestra to Venezuela, playing Haydn C Major and a modern piece which we both didn’t care much about, but still I could tell what a major talent was growing there. In the meantime he has grown even more, as musician and conductor, is 30 years old now, and I have never come across a musician with more intensity and passion. Already in rehearsal he wets his entire shirt after 5 minutes with his own sweat, but every move, every gesture has a direct reason and musical effect, there is no showmanship whatsoever in his demeanour, rather the opposite.