Bob and I arrived in Minneapolis from New York on a Wednesday morning. We were met by Midori, who, as is typical for her, had flown through the night from Los Angeles. She appeared in a newly rented car. Despite my polite skepticism about Midori's driving abilities (it was the first time I had ever seen her behind the wheel, and she had gotten her license only recently), she navigated the roads expertly into the city.

For the rest of the day, the two musicians immediately launched into an all-day practice session at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra Center, while I "played hooky" and explored the extraordinary Walker Art Center, housed in a shimmering building designed by the Swiss architects Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron.

At dinner, we satisfied Midori's cravings for pasta in a local Italian restaurant. Newly fueled by spaghetti Bolognese, we then made the three-hour trek to our first stop on the PiP tour: Fergus Falls, located in Minnesota's evocatively named "Otter Tail county."

Early the next morning, Midori and Bob began practicing at the local performance venue. It looked like a little cinema, located in the center of town, and glowed with inviting lights in the evening.

Meanwhile, I explored Fergus Falls' charming, "old world" downtown (which included a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant). True to its name, the town also had a little river running through it, although no otter tails were in sight. As I explored the few streets in the center of town, I was asked more than once where I was from, and why I was visiting. When I explained to one waitress at the local coffee shop that PiP had chosen Fergus Falls to benefit from a concert by Midori and Bob, I was met with a flush of pride.

During the day, it became clear that today was Midori's birthday (a secret that was let out both by Bob, and by an announcement on National Public Radio). We marked the occasion in low-key Midwestern fashion, with a cupcake and candle.

That evening's recital was nothing short of stunning. It consisted of Dvořák, Romantic Pieces, Op.75; Franck, Sonata for Violin and Piano in A Major; Beethoven Sonata for Piano and Violin in A Major, Op. 30, No.1; and Corigliano Sonata for Violin and Piano.

The audience included fans of all ages. (I had arrived in a blazer and tie, and was clearly overdressed among the sea of plaid shirts in the audience.) Large school groups from Fargo, N.D., had bought tickets for the Fergus Falls concert. The presenter very smartly decided to add more chairs to squeeze in extra fans to the sold-out event.

It was inspirational to see an audience so entranced by the music, and to be part of an event that was unheard of in such a small town.

After the concert, Midori held a Q&A session with the children in the audience. One charming girl, who was clearly trying to figure out how much time she needed to practice violin, asked how long Midori had practiced each day as child. Another wanted to know what the name "Midori" means. There was generous time for photographs with Midori afterwards.

The executive director of the Center for the Arts in Fergus Falls, Rebecca Petersen, could not have been more welcoming. In fact, at the end of the evening, she invited us to her lovely home, where we sat around a cozy table, enjoyed some Norwegian cheese and tea, chatted with her and her husband Mark, and admired their dog.

The following morning, we piled back into the car and drove two hours to Dawson, MN. We passed silos and windmills, and stopped along the way to photograph some particularly picturesque cows.

I had thought that Fergus Falls, with its population of 13,722, was small, so imagine my surprise when we arrived at Dawson -- population 1,500.

Happily, however, Dawson proved to be just as warm and welcoming, thanks largely to the graciousness of the presenter, The Dawson-Boyd Arts Association, and its director, Luanne Fondell. In fact, as we pulled up at the performance venue -- the Memorial Auditorium at Dawson-Boyd High School -- a teenager watched us get out of the car and, obviously aware of the evening's concert, said without hesitation: "Hi there, Midori. Welcome!"

I soon learned that Dawson has one of the oldest and most successful string programs for a city its size in the state of Minnesota.

Again, Midori and Bob spent the day practicing. I spent the afternoon riding a "corn combine" on a farm about an hour from Dawson (about the last place anyone would ever think to find me), thanks to friends who by sheerest coincidence own a farm nearby.

I returned to Dawson that evening in time for the concert.

That day turned out to be one that I will never forget. The experience of sitting atop a huge agricultural machine cutting corn in the middle of Minnesota in the afternoon, and then attending a virtuoso concert in the evening just an hour away, still seems surreal.

The concert itself was, again, spectacular - and even included an encore of "Syncopation" by Fritz Kreisler. Thirty students from Worthington traveled two hours each way to attend. The buzz in the audience was palpable.

After the recital, Midori again spent a long time greeting the audience. As a result, we got back in our car very late that night. We drove the three hours back to Minneapolis, arriving in the wee hours of the morning at a Travelodge, near the Minneapolis airport, for just a few hours sleep. (So much for any fantasies about the "glamorous" life of performers!) The next morning, Midori hopped on plane back to L.A., and Bob and I returned to NY.

Just a few days before the two concerts, a front-page feature in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune ran the headline: "How did Fergus Falls and Dawson land concerts by world-class violinist Midori? They asked."

I could answer that PiP could not have chosen more deserving recipients than these two wonderful communities.

For more information about Partners in Performance

THE FIRST PiP CONCERT
BY CHARLES DANZIGER

The first concert to launch Midori's extraordinary new foundation, "Partners in Performance" (affectionately known as "PiP"), took place on Sunday, November 2, 2003, in Plymouth, New Hampshire. The purpose of PiP is to bring top-flight performers of chamber music and recitals to under-served venues in the U.S. that would not normally have the funds, stature, or connections to attract such talent. Plymouth, New Hampshire was delighted to have been chosen.

Midori (and, we hope, other performers in the future) donated her services, and the money from ticket sales will be used to sponsor further classical music events. Friends of the Arts in Plymouth, like the next two presenters on the PiP tour (The Chandler Center for the Arts in Randolph, Vermont, and Algonquin Arts in Manasquan, New Jersey), had been selected because of their impressive record of promoting the arts and serving the local community.

Although I myself am as far from a musician as one can imagine (I'm actually an arts lawyer in New York City), I was delighted when Midori asked me to be one of four trustees of PiP, the seed money for which came from the prize money she won as part of her Avery Fisher Prize two years ago.

At 7:45 am on October 31 (an inhumanly early hour for late-sleeping Manhattanites like me), seven of us -- including, of course, Midori -- piled into a rented car on New York's Upper West Side and made the six-hour trek to the leafy town of Plymouth. We were fueled by coffee and doughnuts, navigated by Midori's assistant Kelly Gehrs, and masterfully driven by a brilliant advisor to Midori on all things musical, Marcos Klorman. Another trusted trustee, Evelyn Velleman, had come all the way from London to join us, and Midori's press agent, Kathryn King, and her daughter, completed our merry band. During the car ride, we discussed the future of PiP, and especially how best to expand the organization by reaching out to other artists, performing art centers, and funders.

On the way to Plymouth, we stopped at New Hampshire's discount shopping outlets (which is, after all, also a part of American culture). Our car nearly bursting with the fruits of this little detour, we finally arrived at our destination: the "Common Man Inn," a rambling wooden hotel near the concert hall. I realized that we had truly landed in the countryside when I saw the chandeliers made of antlers and the fireplaces in the rooms. The Inn was, in fact, a recently converted popsicle factory.

That evening, our hosts in Plymouth graciously arranged a delicious dinner in honor of Midori and PiP at a home the likes of which I had never seen. We approached it through a series of small country roads and, as in a modern-day Hansel and Gretel, we arrived to find a path illuminated with bright white lights that guided us to the house. Nestled in the dark woods and built and inhabited by an architect, the house had all the fantasy and playfulness of the Spanish architect Gaudi, with a little Walt Disney thrown in: multi-level floors, a spiraling staircase, and cozy cave-like rooms.

The other dinner party guests, all members of the local community, shared Midori's vision of supporting the arts in parts of the country that are literally and figuratively cut off. They also each had their own intriguing stories of how they had "landed" in Plymouth: one was a die-hard skier from Austria who had fallen in love with the beautiful New Hampshire mountains; another was a video artist from Boston who was inspired by nature; and a third was a transplanted Brooklynite who was a devoted hiker. The latter told me that, for safety reasons, she carries a loaded gun during night-walks (this was New Hampshire, after all -- the state with the motto "Live Free or Die."). Each new acquaintance was equally charming and welcoming, and by the end of the evening - as I dipped into my second helping of chocolate cake and fresh fruit - I thought to myself that country living has its distinct advantages.

The following day, Midori rose at dawn (as usual) to prepare for the concert, while the rest of us lazily enjoyed our leisurely Sunday brunch. When we finally arrived at the concert hall, a young boy in the atrium was playing his violin to entertain the audience before the real concert began. As we milled about, the excitement of the day's event was palpable: a performance by the likes of Midori at this venue was, quite simply, unheard of.

Finally, the concert began, and Midori and her accompanist, the gifted pianist Charles Abramovic (who had flown up especially from Philadelphia), did not disappoint us. The first piece, the Paganini/Liszt La Campanella was, even to my untrained ears, fiendishly complicated and revealed Midori's virtuosity. It was, I thought, akin to the double-black diamond ski slopes located just a few miles away. We were riveted to our seats as Midori went on to play sonatas by Brahms, Bach, and Saint-Saens. The concert ended with an encore - Le Printemps (Spring) by Milhaud - that gave us all hope for the time of year when the leaves would once again come to the New Hampshire trees. The hushed audience was enthralled not only by the performance, but also by the unusual gift of music they had been chosen to receive.

Afterwards, as I put on my coat and began to contemplate the long ride back to New York, I was approached by a gentleman who I remembered from the night before. He was a young music teacher in Plymouth (although his Italian accent suggested more distant roots.) He declared that this was the best concert he had ever attended, and that it would leave a lasting impression on his students. His parting words to me were: "New Hampshire is filled with trees, but PiP has brought us oxygen."

ON TOUR WITH MIDORI - June 18-27
BY PETER VINOGRADE

I was delighted and excited when Midori invited me to perform with her in Japan this summer. I was even more delighted that the repertoire was to include three of my favorite violin sonatas: Janáček, Schumann No. 1, and Brahms No. 2. We tried out parts of the program in the US earlier in the year but the first concert in Japan took place in Morioka.

We arrived in Tokyo two days before the Morioka program. The first night was spent at the Grand Arc Hotel in Tokyo, with its beautiful view of the Imperial Palace. I took a long walk in the park in the morning after an excellent cup of coffee from one of the many coffee bars behind the hotel. The train ride to Morioka was relaxing, and I was surprised at how conveniently everything was arranged: the hotel, train station and concert hall were all within minutes of one another. We got off the train and walked through a department store straight into the hotel!

The concert itself was an amazing experience - the crowd response, the intensity that Midori brings to every phrase and my delight when I was able to respond in kind. After the concert, I had my first experience with frantic autograph sessions. Midori graciously goes into the lobby after each concert and is immediately swamped by fans. I even sold a few of my own CDs, and had my picture taken, mostly with admiring schoolchildren of various ages. It was an exhausting but very stimulating experience. Afterwards, we went to an excellent Korean restaurant with Ebi, Midori's delightful assistant for this tour, and had delicious cold noodles with meats and vegetables that we cooked ourselves at the table.

The next morning, on the plane to Osaka, I looked out the window in a daze and had my first view of Mt. Fuji: it had less snow than in the classic pictures, but was still majestic. After landing, I met Midori's grandmother, who made me feel very welcome in her home. I practiced on her very nice piano while Midori did some errands. When Midori returned with several other people, we all had a large, varied and very delicious dinner (shabu shabu et alia). The following morning I went for an early jog near the hotel. Attempting to find a spot with some trees, I accidentally ran into the Panasonic company grounds, only to be stopped by guards who asked to see my ID. When I showed them my hotel key, they had a good laugh and pointed me back towards the hotel.

Kanazawa was the next stop. I felt relaxed at the concert the following night and thought the Mendelssohn and Lutoslawski went especially well.

Our arrival in Fukuoka, a most interesting city, had the added attraction that my wife, Denise, joined me there, having traveled from Tokyo. The hotel was right on a river directly across from the concert hall/shopping complex. The following day, as I dressed for the 7 PM recital, I suddenly realized that my shoes were nowhere to be found. The hotel suggested a store, and I went to find Ebi to see if she could get me there quickly. Instead, a group of women who were helping with the concert brought me to a bridal shop right in the concert complex, where I was loaned a pair of perfectly fitting patent leather shoes. I had left my shoes in Kanazawa!

The concert was probably the best of the three so far. The Schumann, for me, was especially poignant, and the Janáček and Brahms held together well. Also, I was more comfortable with the newly-learned Amy Beach encore.

The following morning, Denise and I explored Fukuoka a bit. We visited the Taconic temple, where we viewed a large Buddha and walked around it into a completely darkened tunnel before emerging. We also had lunch at a frantic but fascinating noodle/tempura place, and visited the relaxing Asian Art Museum.

Denise then went back to Tokyo, while I went on to Sasebo. It reminded me a bit of nice resort towns on the beach - very relaxed. When I got to the hall, my shoes had arrived from the hotel in Kanazawa! The piano was very stiff, possibly almost new, so the Mendelssohn, with its fast, light staccatissimo, was difficult. I thought the Brahms went well.

After the concert, we rushed to get to Nagasaki (Omura) and rode a quirky, 'clanky', train along the beach route. Waking up early the next day, I was happy to see that we were situated on a bay, with mountains in the background. I jogged around the pier in a light rain, enjoying the sea air.

After one more plane trip - to Tokyo for a benefit concert at the Hotel Okura - my intense week and a half, with five concerts, was over. It was an immensely gratifying and stimulating musical experience, punctuated by delicious food and beautiful scenery. Denise and I spent a week in Kyoto before returning to NY.

Peter Vinograde

Summer 2002

A LUCKY FLY ON THE WALL
BY DUFFIE ADELSON

The day was just dawning in Kyoto. A magnificent performance of the Prokofiev Violin Sonata was still ringing in my ears as I stumbled out of bed at 6:00 A.M. We had checked into our hotel only hours before, and now - in my disorientated state - I wondered whether it was still yesterday, or whether the 'tomorrow' of a few hours ago had already become 'today.' In fact, it was almost time to depart for the train station where we were to proceed to the next town on the tour. Soon, a sleepy looking group assembled in the lobby, suitcases in tow. One member of this entourage, however, stood out from the rest. Violin slung over her shoulder and cell phone to her ear, she was engaged in an animated conversation - undoubtedly planning another exciting new project.

For five unforgettable days last summer I was privileged to travel along with Midori’s "Total Experience" concert tour in Japan. While with the tour, I attended glorious concerts and inspiring rehearsals, and basked in the beauty of a country that I had never before visited. The Japanese mountains and countryside had a gentle beauty and warmth that I loved – a beauty and warmth which seemed also to shine through the eyes of the people I met everywhere I went.

The concert tour, which was sponsored by the Sony Music Foundation, was a very special one commemorating Midori’s twentieth anniversary as a concert artist. It takes the diligent and dedicated work of many people to bring a concert tour to life. On this tour I joined Midori and her accompanist, Cullen Bryant, as well as a staff member from Midori’s Tokyo management office, three people from Sony, and a photographer traveling with the tour. By the time I joined the group they had already been touring Japan for many weeks. I thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie of this wonderful team. I have especially warm memories of the terrific sushi dinners we shared together!

It was a remarkable privilege to be with Midori and hear her superb music every day, and my tremendous admiration for her only increased with every day spent on the tour. She is not only a brilliant artist, but also a committed educator, a dedicated scholar, a visionary, and a humanitarian extraordinaire. Her genius was, in fact, reflected in the way she created her "Total Experience" tour to involve the audience members as unique participants in the production of each concert. The sense of audience ownership was apparent everywhere we went, and I was struck by the creativity and level of engagement we found in each town. In Chutan Village, for instance, the local townspeople presented a wonderful, traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Beautiful, kimono-clad women prepared and presented the delicious, frothy green tea along with steamed cookies to concertgoers before and after the concert and during intermission. In the breathtakingly beautiful resort town of Unazuki, we enjoyed a wonderful exhibition of works painted by local children. We were treated to traditional Japanese flute playing and dancing in Kanazawa. In Kumamoto, an inland village in the southern Kyushu region, we discovered a town intensely proud of its many ancient tombs as well as a much-revered 600-year-old Ginkgo tree and an operating observatory. Here, the chosen theme was the relationship between music and space, and essays written on this topic were hung in the reception hall. A number of stars have been discovered at the Kumamoto Observatory, including one named for Midori – giving her the deserved distinction of being a star both on earth and in the heavens!

The concert halls in each town were impressive facilities – especially in the very small villages where they were a source of much pride. Gorgeous flower arrangements and locally designed concert posters were displayed at each concert hall, adding to the local flavor of each concert site. Audience members were chosen by lottery for each concert, as there were always more people interested in attending than there were available seats. Those who were chosen to attend conveyed a feeling of privilege and awe.

Life on a concert tour takes on a unique rhythm and tempo. Days and nights blend into one seamless continuum. Rehearsals and meetings take place at any and all hours. Naps seem to substitute for a full night’s sleep and are taken where ever and whenever opportunities present themselves – on a train, in a cab or backstage on a dressing room floor. These brief periods of rest are interrupted by bursts of activity: a meeting called to discuss logistics of the upcoming performance; an announcement that the piano tuner has just finished tuning, sending the artists scrambling to the concert stage for one last rehearsal; a conference call from a distant city. Meals, too, are often taken in the same mini-doses - a nibble here and there throughout the day.

Behind the scenes, volunteers work with staff on expansive lobby displays, while reception fare receives finishing touches. As the concert hour draws near, showers are taken and musical passages are practiced once again. Concert dress is donned as the audience eagerly files into the hall. Then comes the concert, followed by a reception (sometimes two), and then, perhaps, a dinner out or an interview with the media, followed by a rehearsal, followed by a nap whereupon the rising sun beckons the next day’s activities.

I was constantly struck by the level of energy needed to contend with this round-the-clock schedule. The physical challenges of such a routine are daunting. And yet, each day - and sometimes twice a day - when the lights in the concert hall dimmed, a kind of super-human level of energy rarely encountered filled the stage. The music - alive and electric – flowed from artist to audience and back again, holding every listener rapt and spellbound. I, for one, am spellbound still.

Duffie Adelson has served as Executive Director of the Merit School of Music since 1993. The school provides free and low-fee instruction to more than 5,000 Chicago-area youth - most of whom are from the inner city. Merit has been recognized as a model nation-wide for its comprehensive curriculum, the level of financial aid and scholarship support it provides, and its unique approach to raising children through music.