Lily Friedman, a pianist and teacher whose career spans more than seven decades, is contemplating retirement while grappling with how to exit on a high note. At 95, Friedman remains passionate about her craft but acknowledges the physical challenges that come with age, including dwindling vision, hearing loss, and fatigue.
Friedman’s musical journey began at age five with piano lessons and continued through her graduation from Juilliard in 1955. Over the years, she built a reputation not only as a performer but also as an influential instructor, at one point managing a roster of about 50 students. Today, her number of pupils has declined to fewer than a dozen, as younger generations move on and adults age.
Despite these changes, Friedman’s enthusiasm for music endures. One of her current students, Yujin Kim, a veterinary professor who travels two hours weekly to study with her on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, credits Friedman’s nuanced teaching approach with deepening her playing. “She just knew,” Kim said of Friedman’s instruction on subtle technique adjustments, reflecting the personalized attention Friedman continues to provide.
Friedman’s career has evolved alongside her personal circumstances. About 12 years ago, she stepped down as artistic director of Summertrios, a chamber music organization she helped found, due to caregiving responsibilities for her partner. In recent years, she has relinquished driving and curtailed her annual New Year’s Day fund-raiser for Summertrios, citing a loss of stamina. Following a 2022 surgery, she began using a cane and now depends on around-the-clock care covered by her insurance.
Founded 35 years ago, Summertrios remains a vibrant program, drawing nearly 100 participants in its most recent session at Franklin & Marshall College in Pennsylvania. Friedman continues to mentor musicians and perform, though she admits that recent appearances have felt taxing. During her faculty performance this year, playing Brahms’s Piano Quartet No. 3 in C minor, she struggled with limited vision and hearing impairment, leading to moments of uncertainty despite audience praise.
Some participants have noted these challenges, and informal acknowledgments at events—including a cake reception resembling a retirement tribute—have hinted at the possibility of her stepping back. Friedman herself remains undecided, saying, “I don’t know if I’ll go next year. We’ll have to see what happens.”
Amid these reflections, Friedman is pursuing one final solo recital, aiming to present Beethoven’s Opus 111, a complex and emotionally charged piece she has been studying intensively. She describes the work as rarely performed and profoundly moving, with a second movement that brings her close to tears.
Having celebrated her 95th birthday with family, Friedman is actively seeking a recital hall for this potential farewell concert. She hopes to conclude her career in a formal venue, “going out on top,” though she acknowledges the uncertainty of when that moment will arrive.