Manhattan's Town Hall was cold and empty one morning last week, as a small, dark-haired woman deposited her mink coat and shawl on a stage table, set up her metronome, covered her shoulders with a sweater, and sat down at the concert grand. For the next two hours she worked from page to page of Beethoven's "Waldstein" Sonata, starting at dead-slow tempo, one hand at a time, working up to half tempo, patiently repeating certain figures again and again, uncovering little melodies hidden in the passagework, testing the spaces between chords for the...
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