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Thank you for posting, Patrick. A quote from the obituary:

Her approach to Mozart also served her well in larger works, like the Beethoven concertos. When she belatedly recorded the full cycle, with Riccardo Chailly and the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, in 1986, her performance was notable for the devotional serenity she brought to the slow movements and her fleet but dignified renderings of the Allegros. But even there she retained a touch from a former age: instead of playing Beethoven’s own cadenzas in the Fourth Concerto, she played those of the composer Carl Reinecke, because those were the only ones available to her as a student in the 1930s.
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One summer I was working in a library cataloguing books in a room that essentially was a high walled cubicle--ie. open at the top--so I could clearly hear the noise and commotion from the children's room next door. To counteract this, I would play some of the records stored in that room--and especially Alicia de Larrocha's Mozart Sonatas. (My way of rebelling by playing classical music vs. the 'boomboxes' next door.)

Once, after a particularly noisy afternoon--and the occasional "nerf" ball sailing over the wall onto my desk to disturb my music and peace, I heard a loud laugh above and looked up to see a maintenance man on a ladder fixing a nearby light. He told me he had heard the music, and then saw my serene countenance change to a deep scowl as the noise (and footballs) inserted their presence into my sanctuary. So he laughed. It made me smile, despite myself. I now own many CDs of Ms. Larrocha, but the K.525 always sticks in my mind because of that afternoon. Gracias Sra. Larrocha. RIP dear lady.

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One summer I was working in a library cataloguing books in a room that essentially was a high walled cubicle--ie. open at the top--so I could clearly hear the noise and commotion from the children's room next door. To counteract this, I would play some of the records stored in that room--and especially Alicia de Larrocha's Mozart Sonatas. (My way of rebelling by playing classical music vs. the 'boomboxes' next door.)

Once, after a particularly noisy afternoon--and the occasional "nerf" ball sailing over the wall onto my desk to disturb my music and peace, I heard a loud laugh above and looked up to see a maintenance man on a ladder fixing a nearby light. He told me he had heard the music, and then saw my serene countenance change to a deep scowl as the noise (and footballs) inserted their presence into my sanctuary. So he laughed. It made me smile, despite myself. I now own many CDs of Ms. Larrocha, but the K.525 always sticks in my mind because of that afternoon. Gracias Sra. Larrocha. RIP dear lady.

Thanks so much for posting that. Nice story.

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