At eight, when Daniel began studies with Aleksander Shtrimer at the Special Music School for Children, he had already decided to make music his career. Two years later he was one of ten talented children chosen to attend the Leningrad Conservatory, fortunately with the same professor. That year also marked his first appearance in public at one of the Conservatory concerts when he played two Popper pieces of considerable difficulty, 'Spinning Song' and 'Elfentanz'. He made his orchestral debut the following year playing the Rococo Variations with the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra under the visiting British conductor, Albert Coates.

Shafran acknowledges the debt he owes to Shtrimer, whom he describes as a striking personality and a broad-minded man who had a profound understanding of law, literature and art, although he never intimidated his students with encyclopaedic knowledge. Each one was treated as an individual, and lessons embraced all art in relation to music.

In 1937, Shafran achieved national prominence when he entered the Soviet Union's National Cello Competition as an unofficial contestant and carried off the first prize. Part of the award was a magnificent Antonio Amati cello made in 1630, on which he has been playing ever since.

At both the World Democratic Youth Festival in Budapest in 1949, and at the Hanus Wihan Contest in Prague in 1950-the year of his graduation from the Leningrad Conservatory-he shared first prize with Rostropovich.

Shafran's removal to Moscow later that year caused an artistic crisis brought about by his final separation from the teacher on whom he had depended for so long. His wife, Nina Musinian, a pianist and his partner in recitals, helped by insisting that he forget all about having been a prodigy, and encouraged him to try to find his own way to becoming a mature artist.

In 1977 Shafran played in a concert at the Carnegie Hall in New York with the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, an occasion somewhat marred by circumstances beyond his control. Milly Stanfield, who attended the concert, tells us that on the retirement of Henry Lewis, who had conducted the orchestra for several seasons, it was decided to engage a different conductor for each concert. Unfortunately on this occasion the conductor appeared to have little control over the orchestral sound. Shafran's tone was frequently submerged by the orchestra, and it was only when he played a movement from a Bach Suite as an encore that he could properly be heard-he was given no real opportunity to reveal his true stature.

During the remaining part of the tour the orchestra was under Thomas Michalak, an experienced and sensitive musician who gave Shafran the chance to show his playing in a more representative light. Stanfield writes:

His bowing is splendid, free and always under complete control, his style commendably devoid of mannerisms and he never allows his technical prowess to lead to a display of pure skill at the expense of his conception of the musical expression. He has a delightful personality, seems deeply involved with the interpreta-tion he is projecting and any hint of monotone in his use of dynamics and tone colour may well have been due to a transitory distrust of unfamiliar acoustics.

In his recordings, the Amati gives no hint of any lack of power. He has a luscious tone and is a formidable interpreter of the romantic repertoire. He no longer plays the short pieces by Popper and Klengel himself but recommends them to those who aspire to a brilliant technique. He recalls Oistrakh's advice, 'Danny-always include a virtuoso piece in your daily dozen. The audience likes them as a reward.'

Shafran was always greatly respected as a teacher although never on the staff of any music college. His lessons were given in his own home or at that of his pupils. It seems that his rather shy and reserved personality was not suited to the hazards of working in a large institution.

The young cellist, Alfia Nakipbekova, was a pupil of Shafran's when she was fifteen and feels that the time she spent with him gave her a special polish that she could not have obtained elsewhere. 'He is a real master of his instrument and his technique is brilliant. He goes into detail so that you really understand what he is doing. His staccato and spiccato are wonderful and he achieves this by a very light but absolutely precise attack-a split second judgement of when the bow touches the string.' Shafran also uses the bow at the tip far more than most cellists and likes the hair to be on the loose side. 'This is how he makes that beautiful, silvery sound.

Nakiphekova summed up his philosophy: 'He could feel each pupil's potential long before they were aware of it themselves. He was able to make you find your own way through your own experience so you did not imitate him but you took from him and then shaped your own playing.'

Shafran is somewhat idiosyncratic about the chair he uses on the stage. 'It is very high and he sits right on the very edge. Even when he is giving a recital with a pianist he has his little raised platform. But he is also very interesting to watch. He plays rather like a violinist, very light and without effort, yet at the same time he is very intense. A strange mixture.