Madeleine Forte's recordings as soloist and duo-pianist have consistently charmed and impressed a number of Fanfare reviewers, and her two interviews with Peter Rabinowitz (24:6 and 35:4) brought her many experiences and encounters with the great and famous from the world of music to vivid life. Further reminiscences of a personal and professional nature are indelibly recounted in simply madeleine, "a remarkable book" (Rabinowitz) that "reveal[s] a wide range of sympathies (personal and aesthetic), as well as an infectious generosity of spirit." Recently, the fortuitous discovery of two previously unreleased live recordings of duo-piano recitals by Madeleine and her partners, István Nádas and Del Parkinson, came to the attention of Roméo Records, which released them as digital downloads, the starting point of our conversation.

Where had these recordings been hiding, and how did Roméo Records become involved?

I was cleaning the shelves of my Piano Studio and I found those two live concerts that were completely forgotten and never published. I had been with Connoisseur Society and changed to Roméo Records 20 years ago, so naturally I went to them.

What prompted the change in labels?

I did not feel Connoisseur was doing enough for me. For example, Connoisseur waited for two years before releasing my Debussy CD, and on top of that, I never received royalties, so after a while I decided to jump ship.

How did Ron Mannarino, Roméo's founder, react to the discovery of the "lost" material? Also, why is it only available as a download?

Roméo (his real name), Ron, was thrilled of course, but he said we do not do CDs anymore, everything is now digital.

What led you to him in the first place?

My second son, the gifted ceramicist Olen Hsu, is the one who founded Qualiton Records, and when I moved East I got in touch with Ron, who had worked with them, and at this time he had his own company, Roméo Records, and we started working together. The Messiaen CD was the first one, in 2001, and we have worked together since then.

Did Roméo Records license your Connoisseur recordings for rerelease?

All my CDs with Roméo Records were recorded specifically for them. All my CDs with Connoisseur Society and Roméo Records are available for sale.

These downloads are not your first ventures into the realm of duo-pianism. Previously, Roméo released A Celebration of Duo-Piano Music, a three-CD set with an enticingly varied program that includes several rarely encountered items such as the Bizet/Chasins Carmen Fantasy and Khachaturian's Fantastic Waltz alongside such repertoire staples as Debussy's En blanc et noir and the Rachmaninoff Suites 1 and 2, none of which are duplicated on the new recordings.

A Celebration of Duo-Piano Music received rave reviews; Del [Parkinson] and I were thrilled that our live performances at our university for fans and students became such a success. We were dressed up accordingly — French, Russian, Spanish, and also Hungarian costumes — and we also acted on stage before each program; we improvised for the joy of our audience

Was playing with another pianist always an important part of your musical upbringing?

I had started duets with my aunt Sonia Chalon, my first teacher and mentor. She was a contralto who had won the Comoedia Contest in Paris in 1925. Although her mother did not want her to be on stage, she performed in recitals and taught voice and piano all through her long, fruitful life. She introduced me to a repertoire that began with J. S. Bach and continued on to Debussy, Ravel, and Bartók. With her I learned many works by Liszt and my love for and dedication to Liszt has never ceased since: I performed and wrote on Liszt all my life, and I met many of his descendants, German and French, including Gottfried Wagner, Winifred Lafferentz, and Daniela Jeanson.

How did you meet István Nádas and Del Parkinson, your partners on these recordings?

When I became a piano professor at Boise State University, I started to invite guest artists in 1980. István Nádas was a Hungarian pianist at Washington State University, Pullman, WA; we were neighbors. We performed many concerts together in Washington and Idaho. He had great depth of conception for Schubert and together we conceived beautiful varied programs.

Then my Juilliard professor, Martin Canin, previously an assistant to my teacher Rosina Lhévinne, became a full-time professor at Juilliard. I invited him twice to help my students with masterclasses and private piano lessons; the beauty of his sound was unique. We had a communion of spirit in our duo performances — one of Debussy, Brahms, and Lutosławski is on YouTube — and Boise fans long remembered our association.

I met my other piano partner, my colleague Del Parkinson, at Boise State, and he and I decided to perform regularly in duos for our enjoyment and the benefit of our students. Our collaboration flowered from the moment we met and lasted for many years. We immediately decided that we agreed on the major things about playing a piano. We tried to communicate all kinds of moods, everything from excitement and energy to warmth and beauty. I respected his straightforward American vitality, and he chose the parts with forceful chords; he loved my lyrical tone, and I was given Piano I in all the French pieces. The composer Brent Pierce from California wrote original pieces for us. Our New By Two team had a few misadventures, though. Just before our concert at the Juilliard School, my boot got caught in a hole and I fell in the street. Two people picked me up, but I sprained my ankle so badly that I had to eventually have surgery. However, "the show must go on," and we went ahead to give a successful performance. Another time, during the performance of La valse by Ravel, Del's contact lens moved and started to float in his eye. At the same time, a button from my sleeve got caught in the hanging sequins of my French shirt. Happily we were at the last page of the piece. Our music lovers probably wondered why I would carry my whole body from the bottom to the top of the piano — of course, my arm was stuck! One of our highlights was the performance of Francis Poulenc's Concerto for Two Pianos with Orchestra. We gave concerts in Idaho, Washington, and Oregon; we were the "roaming duo," traveling by car, plane, and even helicopter to weird places in the country where people just loved us. We even had lunch at the Craters of the Moon National Monument in Idaho. With Roméo Records we produced A Celebration of Duo-Piano Music, with Spanish, French, and Russian programs. We dressed up accordingly at concerts, which is why you hear audience laughter in some of the CDs. Both of us received many awards, one of them the Governor's Award, which raised our status among Idahoans.

You had the good fortune to study with some of the most famous pianists of the day, Wilhelm Kempff, Alfred Cortot, Rosina Lhévinne, and Polish pianist Zbigniew Drzewiecki, plus you also were close to Olivier Messiaen's wife Yvonne Loriod, all of whom you discussed with Peter Rabinowitz. You offered marvelous recollections of Cortot and Drzewiecki, and the less voluminous comments about Kempff, Lhévinne, and Loriod were no less memorable. For those craving more, I enthusiastically recommend your book, simply madeleine, which includes your diary of Kempff's Beethoven seminars in Positano, Italy and another documenting your years with Mme. Lhévinne.

So far as I know, my "Beethovenian Holidays" is the only published recollection of Kempff's Positano Beethoven seminar. There's a picture of Kempff with me and Frau Helen Kempff in my book, and you can also see it on my website. It was also chosen for Kempff's website: I am honored! It is a good photo: I am listening to my professor, who is talking to me personally. I can't do better to convey the experience of those days for me and my fellow attendees than to quote the last sentence of my diary: "Positano: the name is heavy with meaning and forever whole in our artistic life."

Rosina Lhévinne? That was another experience! She was very enthusiastic, and for whatever reason, you always played very well for her. She had the proper vibes, and I owe her my strength at the piano, thanks to a diet of connected octaves, Scriabin, Rachmaninoff, and Prokofiev. She would say, "Play red like your sweater," and "Give all your power until you faint." She was not organized; you had to have your own organization with her, it was all instinctive. She had a spectacular ear, and you could not miss any detail. She gave me confidence and trust in my abilities. I lived with her for a year, and my diary — comprising hilarious moments — was published in American Music Teacher. Through her stories I had a taste of her life at Juilliard during the famous "Van Cliburn years."

Here is one of my favorites: Shirley Aronoff was a Lhévinne student at the time that Mark Schubart was the dean. She was a charming and talented girl, although given to practical jokes. She would put frogs in her teacher's studio or salt in her tea, or she would hide outside the window (leading to the terrace) to hear the deliberations of the piano jury. One day Madame Lhévinne asked me to listen to a 78-rpm recording. I thought, "For sure it is her playing or Josef Lhévinne." There was no music. It sounded like Madame talking in her unique nasal voice. When my teacher started to laugh in her typical rhythm, I realized that the voice on the record was an imitation. Shirley Aranoff and her friend had captured every inflection of Madame Lhévinne's manner. On the record we heard: "David! David! Open the windows a little less!" (a phrase often cited as an example of her English syntax). Then came, "Madame Lhévinne, Carl Phillip Emmanuel said to start the ornaments on the beat." "Then go and study with C. P. E. Bach!" Rosina's laugh became contagious. Sarah, her faithful maid, was wiping away tears, sniffling vigorously. I was busy noting most of the record and also enjoying it.

Two stories that aren't in the diary both revolved around Sviatoslav Richter. I had bought my ticket for one of his concerts, but Madame Lhévinne invited me to her box and told me to sell my ticket. An old gentleman showed interest, left, and then came back and bought my ticket for $5. Rosina was thrilled, not for the $5 but for the game of chance. Reporters recognized her and tried to ask her questions. While I was holding her mink coat and her white silk scarf, she told me in French: "Ils sont stupides." The concert was splendid; the house was shaking. Only Rosina was allowed to meet Richter backstage. He was invited for dinner at her little apartment on Claremont Avenue, but of course nobody else was to be around, "ne polozheno!" ["not allowed!"]

At another time, speaking about Richter, she told me she learned the "fluttered pedal" from him. When he came to New York for the first time, Sol Hurok, the famous impresario, invited her to the concert. Hurok came to kiss her hand in front of "all" Carnegie Hall, and told her he would be glad to have her impression after the first part of Richter's recital, so that he could send a telegram to Russia before any other critic. So she agreed. At the intermission three reporters came to her box, and she said that Richter was the "Eusebius of the piano." That went all around Russia!

Towards the conclusion of simply madeleine you announced your intention to stop performing and recording, but that resolve eventually wavered. What led you to resume playing in public? Did you miss it more than you thought you would?

My dear husband Allen passed away in 2014. You must know that I took care of him at home for seven full years during his dementia. It was exhausting physically and emotionally, as you can imagine. Of course, not everything is rosy for an artist! Allen was a wonderful man, musician, husband, and friend, and when he was hit by dementia I took care of him with love. The sadness of watching a man deteriorate is immense, indescribable. My own health was affected during those years and for two years after. A musician is like an athlete: you need good health in order to produce.

Yes, you are correct: I missed performing more than I thought, and chamber music was a salvation. Years before, I received a letter from an excellent cellist in Brussels inviting me to perform a few concerts with him. I wished to prepare myself well in advance for the performances and so I started searching for a local musician with whom to rehearse. I found a Polish cellist, Mariusz Skula, and we developed a friendship. We continued our collaboration and soon added a talented Cuban violinist, Pedro Pinyol, to make a new trio. For many years we performed many original programs in concerts in Connecticut, New York, and Texas with great joy and enthusiasm until Pedro moved to Portugal, where he is actively pursuing his career. After Allen's passing I reconnected with Mariusz and we've been performing as the Bel-Etre Ensemble, named for the Chateau Bel-Etre, my older son Yann's manor in France. Then, by sheer happenstance, I met my future partners in the Lillibridge Trio, violinist Raphael Ryger and cellist Karen Ryger, while out walking in the street; it happens that we are neighbors, and we spent many beautiful hours of music together, performing until September 2019, when Covid hit.

Have you always wanted to perform?

You are born with the love of performing; my aunt Sonia started teaching me at age three and a half, and I could play little pieces in public by the age of five; it was completely natural for me to perform in public. It is exciting to play a piece well for yourself and for a public. I have on YouTube a performance of my recital at the Santa Fe Summer Festival, and you can feel my excitement and the excitement of my public. The public permits you to go beyond yourself. And if you'd like to see me playing as I am today, on February 17, 2022, friends recorded me and posted it on YouTube under "A Little Practice in My Home". It was live, unedited, and I tried to improve my practice on February 18 (I think it was better!).

Was nervousness ever an issue?

I guess all performers are a bit nervous in public, Horowitz was — you would be a fool not to be — but the excitement will dominate. For example, I used to love to play with an orchestra — that mass of sound is wonderful, it overpowers you, and the joy of participating permits you to dominate your nerves. You experience that joy in chamber music as well, but on a different level. Performing is in the blood, and you continue while you are able to.