Ireland's keyboard cub becomes international lion

In the weeks following Finghin Collins's success at the Clara Haskil Competition, the question I was most frequently asked was, "Is it an important competition?" That's not an easy question to answer anymore. So I usually answered with another question, "Well, what is an important competition, these days?"

Not one of my questioners could respond with the names of recent winners of what used to be regarded as the big four piano competitions: the Tchaikovsky in Moscow; the Chopin in Warsaw; the Van Cliburn; and the Leeds. The days when a first prize at a major competition was a guaranteed way of launching an international career at the highest level are long gone. But it is still an important step in any young performer's career. It shows a certain reliability and mettle. Along with the prize money, it usually brings a string of engagements, a bonus which, in the long term, can count for a lot more than the prizemoney itself. A successful engagement can lead to a re-engagement. And a well-received appearance in an important musical centre can lead to a lot more than that. Winning the top prize in an international is an important entry ticket to a world of opportunity. It's what you do with those opportunities that counts most in the long term.

Finghin Collins has for a long time been regarded as the young Irish pianist most likely to succeed. He's taken in his stride all the challenges and rewards that musical life in Ireland has presented him with, and, since he was in his early teens, he's had a consistent presence in competitions abroad as well. He comes across in person, as he often does on stage, as a buoyant personality, full of enthusiasm for what he does, and the antithesis of the troubled, neurotic, romantic artist.

Winning one of the well-known established piano competitions is something that Collins has had in his sights for a number of years. "It's not a worked-out thing, but I generally tend to do one competition a year. I have done for the last four years. The Clara Haskil Competition suited me in terms of the time of year it was on and in terms of the repertoire. It's repertoire that I like, it's all the repertoire that Haskil herself used to play: Mozart, Schubert, Brahms, Schumann, Beethoven, all that sort of thing. The funny thing was that they didn't have any cassette entries. They accepted everybody who came on the basis of their CVs. They didn't even require a very lengthy CV. That was interesting. "There was a set piece in the first round - you had to play the Abegg Variations of Schumann; it was obligatory. So I had to actually learn that, because I'd never played it. That's about seven minutes. And then they gave you another eight minutes to take a piece by Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart of Schubert. You couldn't play any movement from a sonata. You had to play a whole piece. That was tricky in its own way, because there aren't that many pieces that you can play that are very convincing. I eventually chose the third of the Brahms Op 117 Intermezzi. It's not a very often-played piece, and you can make quite a good impression if you play it well.

"They had 120 entries, of whom 90 turned up and 88 played. I think two chickened out. There was quite a good mix of repertoire, actually. That went on for four days, because there were so many to get through. The jury could choose a maximum of 16 for the second round, and they chose 13, which is very few to take out of 88. That's the way it was. "The 13 then had to play a 50-minute programme, a very different sort of thing to have to do. You had to play a big work by Brahms, Schubert, Chopin or Schumann. I played the Schubert B flat major Sonata. I followed that with a Schubert/Liszt Soiree de Vienne and ended with a Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody, so that you got a nice bridge from Schubert to Liszt." Schubert's late Sonata in B flat is a deeply introverted piece, not at all the thing lions of the keyboard usually like to play. "I was the only person who played that Schubert sonata. There were a lot of big pieces by Schumann and Chopin, a lot of flashy playing, a lot of modern pieces, dreadful modern pieces. "That went on for two days or three days, and then they chose six for the semi-final, which was one of the four Mozart chamber concertos, just with string quintet, string quartet and double bass. That was great fun in its own way. Four of the six chose the Concerto in A, K414, which I chose; the other two chose the Concerto in F, K413. It was played with the principal players of the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra, who were very good people. And we had really good rehearsals. It's very important to bond well with them. We had two days' rehearsals, and got on really well. The mood was really there.

"At the end of that, they took just four players into the finals. Which is a bit sad, really. Taking a majority like that is always sad for the other two. They dropped the two Japanese, which was unfortunate. There were 23 Japanese, I think, in the original line-up. Two of them made it to the semi-finals and none to the finals. A lot of them were girls. In fact in the whole competition, there was a majority of girls, 60 or 65 per cent I think. I remember doing all the statistics. I was bored one day, sat down and wrote out everything.

"The concerto choice for the finals wasn't very broad, again, Haskil-type repertoire. I chose Beethoven 3. I think it's a very good competition piece. Straight down the line, musically. I could have done Beethoven 4. I remember thinking that Beethoven 3 was better for a competition. With Beethoven 4 you'd have all sorts of opinions about how it should be played.

"There was myself, and a Ukrainian, who played Beethoven 3. There was a French guy who played Beethoven 4, and a German girl who played Chopin 1. "I played first in the final, which was with the Chamber Orchestra of Lausanne under Emmanuel Krivine, who is a very good conductor . . . " He adds that some musicians had difficulty with him, but repeats that he is "very good". a difficult personality, but a very good conductor.

"We had two rehearsals with them on a Monday night, and then it went live on television. It went Eurovision, but only a few countries took it live. I played first, which was nice. Got it out of the way. And then they gave the results, and I got first prize." His voice positively beams with pleasure as he recalls the success.

`I was very lucky all the way through. I did play consistently well . . . give or take. There's always an element of luck involved in competitions. You never know. You can never trust a jury until you hear your name called out at the end. They can do absolutely anything, as I know from experience, whatever sort of vibes you might be getting. You're always nervous till the end. I was convinced at one stage that the French guy was going to win it. It's a very tricky business, competitions."

Collins is under no illusions about what he's achieved. He understands that the building of a career is all ahead of him. He understands, too, that being Irish actually placed him at an advantage in certain respects on the international competition circuit. He's had far more opportunity to play with orchestras here in Ireland, than comparable or even older players would have in much bigger countries. You can always tell at the Guardian Competition in Dublin, that it's the finals with orchestra where the players are found most wanting. To have Collins's level of experience would always be a telling advantage in an international competition.

The engagements he gets as part of his prize will bring him concerts in Switzerland, France, Germany, Austria, and also as far away as St Petersburg. They're mostly in the season 2000/2001, which he likes, as it gives him good leeway for preparation. There will also be a CD of competition performances coming out on the Claves label. A solo CD has also been mooted, but not finalised. In spite of his success, he hasn't changed his mind about competitions, which he regards as "a necessary evil". "I've never liked them, I've always spoken against them. Just because I've won one, I don't see that I should suddenly think that they're wonderful. "No. I think they're unnatural, because they make you play in front of a jury, which is unnatural, in halls where there are very small audiences. It just seems the antithesis of what we want to do, play for audiences and play pieces we like. Putting constrictions on pianists is difficult. Having whole days of piano playing, 15 minutes at a time, makes us all feel like we're on show. I've never been for them, but I do think, if you are lucky with them, they are very useful. Because they give you all this exposure and they give you money. That's obviously why people do them."

And one of the elements of his success that gives him especial pleasure is the fact that it's a wholly Irish success. Naturally enough, he's travelled abroad for master-classes and courses. But he's never been a full-time student anywhere but Ireland. Barry Douglas, Hugh Tinney, and Collins's teacher (and Clara Haskil jury-member) John O'Conor all went out of Ireland to study before managing to get to the top in an international competition. With a new Irish Academy for the Performing Arts under consideration by the government, Collins may turn out to be the first of a new breed.

Finghin Collins plays at the Bank of Ireland Arts Centre on Tuesday, October 26th at 8 p.m., in a programme of Bach, Debussy, Bartok and that Schubert Sonata in B Flat