The Accidental Pianist

I never really intended to become a pianist and piano teacher – nor a blogger on classical music and pianism, and a concert reviewer. Sure, I was mad keen on the piano as a child and teenager, completing all my grade exams and enjoying consistent rather than startling success in them. I harboured some desire to go to music college rather than university, but an offhand comment by my music teacher at school, suggesting I was not “good enough” to audition for conservatoire (a comment which still has the power to sting, some 35 years on), set me on a different course at 18: I studied Anglo-Saxon at university and had a career in art and academic publishing for 10 years post-university, until I stopped full-time work to have my son.

But the piano had always been there, in the background, a rather frustrating itch which could not be scratched because my father sold my piano when I left home and I had no instrument on which to practise. I occasionally played a friend’s grand piano but lack of practise led to frustration, and it was not until my mother bought me a half-decent digital piano that my passion for the instrument was rekindled. It was gratifying to discover that music I’d learnt in my teens was still “in the fingers”, if rather rusty, and I began to enjoy the routine of practising once again. Around the same time, I started going to concerts regularly again, something I had enjoyed as a child with my parents, and into my teens, reacquainting myself with repertoire I knew and loved and making new discoveries. A chance conversation with a friend in the school playground while waiting to collect our children led me into piano teaching – that was 10 years ago…..

Alongside this, I felt it was important to improve my own playing, and in 2008 I returned to regular lessons with a concert pianist and professor of piano at one of London’s leading conservatoires. It was daunting initially: I had not been taught for nearly a quarter of a century, and lots of bad habits from my teens and lack of technique were quickly exposed, but the teacher was sympathetic and supportive, and it was satisfying to see my playing improve rapidly under her guidance. Because I had not had a formal musical training at 18, I always (and still do) felt I was trying to catch up with those who’d had that education, and this was a major motivation for taking an external performance diploma, in addition to the desire to continually improve my playing by setting myself the personal challenge of preparing for the diploma. And so in December 2011, some 28 years after I last stepped into a piano exam room, I took my Associate diploma in piano performance. The Licentiate diploma followed in 2013. Both experiences were entirely positive (in complete contrast to some rather uncomfortable exam experiences as a child): I enjoyed the challenge of learning and finessing the repertoire, researching and writing programme notes, and learning how to be a performer (for one is assessed not just on one’s playing but also on stagecraft and presentation, just as in a formal professional concert), and above all, I enjoyed studying with a teacher again and the self-imposed routine of regular practising. Since 2013, I perform quite regularly, in solo concerts and in joint recitals with friends and colleagues. Learning to manage and understand performance anxiety has been a big part of my development as a pianist, and an aspect I know many others struggle with, which is why I organise workshops for adult amateur pianists on coping with anxiety and developing good stage craft.

I think the rather “accidental” path into my current role, in addition to the long period of absence from the piano, has given me the freedom and confidence to fully indulge my passion for the piano and its literature. Had I gone to music college and had to make a career from music as a young woman, I may have lost that spark, that passion. I’ve met a number of professional musicians who have expressed resentment at the heavy demands of their career, which can rob them of their love of the piano and its literature. (Admittedly, I am fortunate in that I do not have to make my main living from music: I have what is fashionably called a “portfolio career” and do several other admin and writing jobs in addition to my teaching.) Returning to the piano in my late 30s, and completing my diplomas in my mid-40s, has brought a maturity to my approach – and in the years when I wasn’t playing I was still listening to music and going to concerts, soaking up all those notes and forming my own opinions about the music I was hearing (which in turn was given a further outlet when I started reviewing concerts for

As an adult pianist, one has the freedom to explore whatever repertoire one pleases, without a teacher bossily insisting on Czerny exercises (been there, done that) or having to play repertoire which one hates (and I suspect many of us can remember, with a shudder, the terrible/dull music we were made to learn as children). We take responsibility for our practising without recourse to others. As we mature we get to know what repertoire suits us (I was very touched at a recent London Piano Meetup Group event when a friend commented on how much a certain piece “suited” me), what we are physically, and mentally, capable of tackling, and as pianists we are incredibly spoilt by the vastness of the piano’s repertoire: there really is something for everyone! While some of us dream of playing Rachmaninov’s Third Piano Concerto to a full house at Carnegie Hall, we gain a great deal of pleasure and satisfaction from working on pieces and presenting them to others at piano clubs, meetup groups, and on courses (where one can meet other piano fanatics and where lasting friendships are forged). We enjoy the challenge of learning a Beethoven sonata, a handful of Bach’s Preludes and Fugues, or a brace of Chopin Etudes, and the sense of achievement when we gain “ownership” of our music, making it our own.

“It’s an overriding passion, not just for the music [but] for the challenge……And the challenge is constant: there’s always a harder piece, you can always take it to the next level, you’re never finished. But there’s also the fact that the piano is your friend; it’s always there. That gathers more significance as you get older: what you can express through it, in a personal language, becomes incredibly important.”

Lucy Parham, concert pianist

Those of us who play at a semi-professional level, advanced pianists, intermediate players, beginners, returners, “Sunday pianists” all share this consuming passion. Eavesdrop on any conversation between members of a piano group and this love is more than evident as members discuss the myriad aspects of the craft of piano: practising, repertoire, exams, concerts, performance anxiety, favourite professional performers and recordings. Because of this, professionals are often quite envious of the freedom amateur pianists have to indulge their passion, to play whatever repertoire they choose and to play purely for pleasure.

Music has known therapeutic benefits and the piano is no exception. Time spent with the instrument can be relaxing, invigorating, inspiring and comforting. A good practise session can feel as beneficial as a run – and we release the same “happy hormones”, endorphins, when we practise, as we do when we exercise. If I haven’t touched the piano for several days, I get tetchy and frustrated, and it’s the first thing I go to when I return home from a holiday. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do without it now, and I am lucky enough to possess a rather fine antique Bechstein grand piano, known affectionately as “Bechy”, who has pride of place in my living room and is treated by the rest of my family like a rather large pet.

If you are something of an “accidental pianist”, or someone who has returned to, or taken up the piano later in life, I would love to hear from you to explore this fascinating subject in more detail. Please feel free to contact me to tell me your story, or complete my Piano Notes – adult pianist interview (word document)



Meet the Artist……Jonathan Woolgar, composer

1f-xbxgwWho or what inspired you to take up composing, and pursue a career in music?

I started composing as soon as I started learning the piano. Going to the theatre as a child was an important inspiration – I wanted to write theatre music, and still do. Serious composition started when I went to Chetham’s School of Music in Manchester for 6th form and I suppose I have never looked back.

Who or what were the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer?

Influences have come and gone over the years, but Stravinsky and Wagner have loomed large – somewhat disparate figures but as with most music there are connections under the skin. The early Stravinsky ballets naturally had a huge influence on me as a teenager, though now I would take Symphony of Psalms any day. Wagner came later. There is nothing like the sense of immersion you get from being in the middle of Tristan or Parsifal. In terms of teachers, each has had an important impact on me in different ways, although I’m especially grateful to Giles Swayne for teaching me to cut the crap – he is that rare thing, a composer completely without bullshit.

What have been the greatest challenges/frustrations of your career so far?

While I can’t think of anything specific, the sense that a piece hasn’t lived up to what I wanted it to be is always agonising. On the other hand, that’s what leads me to write the next one. They’re all steps along a road and I have no idea where it leads.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece?

The greatest challenge and the greatest pleasure is that there is a deadline. The piece would never get finished without it.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles and orchestras?

More pleasures than challenges – knowing who or where I am writing for provides a focal point.

Of which works are you most proud?

I feel the work which has come closest to what I wanted it to be was a piece I wrote for a very good friend of mine, pianist Philip Sharp, called ‘Five Anatomical Sketches’. The music is unusually austere for me, but I felt that I was able to boil the material down to its expressive essence, and Phil performed it superbly.

How would you characterise your compositional language?

Communicative without compromise.

How do you work?

I compose whenever I can, I have no special routine. Time and space always yield better results. I also take frequent long walks to work ideas through. Many compositional breakthroughs have come on those long walks.

Who are your favourite musicians/composers?

I’ve already mentioned Stravinsky and Wagner as influences, and other musical loves include Chopin, Mahler, Adès, Beethoven, Adams, Britten, Monteverdi, and so on, and so on… In terms of performers, while I don’t have any particular favourites, I have recently been enjoying Boulez’s Mahler symphony recordings and also luxuriating in the voice of Iestyn Davies.

What is your most memorable concert experience?

As a performer, it was singing in the chorus for Walton’s ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’ at the Royal Festival Hall with the Chetham’s Symphony Orchestra, conducted by David Hill – who brought along the Bach Choir too. It is a silly piece in many ways, and yet it works so incredibly well and the ending is wonderfully ecstatic. As a listener, I will always remember my first Prom fondly, which was the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra conducted by Donald Runnicles performing Adams, Mozart and Strauss. I was swept away by the wonderful atmosphere and the wonderful repertoire.

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians?

I don’t like the phrase “be yourself” – I would rather say “do what you must do”. Have something to say and discover the best way in which to say it – that is the communicative impulse. I don’t mean communication in the lowest-common-denominator sense, I mean the sharing of music between humans on any scale. Writing and performing music is a way of saying “HERE I AM” and “HERE WE ARE”, nothing more and nothing less.

Where would you like to be in 10 years’ time?

Writing music.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?


What do you enjoy doing most?

Hearing great music with great people in great places.

What is your present state of mind?

Existentially drowning.

Jonathan Woolgar is the joint Cambridge University Musical Society Composer in Residence for 2016-17. This includes writing a piece for the Cambridge University New Music Ensemble, which will be premiered on 2nd February 2017 and conducted by Patrick Bailey

Composer Jonathan Woolgar is particularly interested in music as drama and music for the stage, and his work draws from a wide range of musical experience, aiming to engage every kind of listener.

Jonathan has had works performed at the Bridgewater Hall and the Royal Albert Hall by ensembles such as Manchester Camerata, Onyx Brass, Aurora Orchestra and the Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra, as well as broadcast on BBC Radio 3. In 2010 he won the BBC Proms Young Composers’ Competition. His music has been recorded for commercial release by the choir of Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge, and he also enjoys close associations with contemporary music ensembles The Hermes Experiment and Khymerikal. Jonathan is Composer in Residence at Eton College for 2015-17, and will be Composer in Residence for the Cambridge University Musical Society in 2016-17. His one-woman opera, Scenes from the End, ran in London and Edinburgh this summer, while future projects include performances at St Mark’s Basilica, Venice and St John’s Smith Square.

Whilst currently based near London, Jonathan originally hails from Pontefract in West Yorkshire. He attended Chetham’s School of Music, Manchester from 2008-10, studying composition and conducting with Jeremy Pike and Gavin Wayte. From 2010-13 he read music at Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge where he graduated with First Class Honours and studied composition with Giles Swayne, going on to study with David Sawer at the Royal Academy of Music.

A year in music

Another music-filled year, many hits, a few misses, some new discoveries – musicians, venues, repertoire and people – and a couple of memorable performances of my own, solo and with colleagues…..


Pavel Kolesnikov (Wigmore Hall) – What impressed me in Pavel Kolesnikov’s performance was his clarity, control, lightness of touch and musical understanding which revealed the hidden nuances and subtle embroideries in Debussy’s writing. His elegant, sensitive pianism created a concert which was highly engaging and deeply intimate. Review here

The Pink Singers (Cadogan Hall) – a gloriously uplifting evening of fine singing and the premiere of a piece for choir written by a colleague of mine.

Deyan Sudjic (Wigmore Hall) – This was the pianist who asked the Washington Post to remove what he felt was an unfavourable review, and I admit I was curious to hear this pianist after reading about this furore….. Review here

Warren Mailley-Smith (St John’s Smith Square) – A concert in Warren’s series exploring Chopin’s complete piano music.


Steven Osborne (St John’s Smith Square) – The first of two wonderful concerts by this exceptional pianist which I enjoyed in 2016. Review here

Piotr Anderszewski (Wigmore Hall) – Always a pleasure to hear this thoughtful and sensitive pianist – and an added pleasure was meeting him briefly after the concert. Review here

Nikolai Demidenko (Cadogan Hall) – Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1. Review here

Mark Swartzentruber (Kings Place) – music by Bach, Ravel and Schubert (D959- one of the may performances of this work which I have been studying)

Divine Fire – The Story of Chopin and Sand told in music and words, performed by Viv McLean (piano) and Susan Porrett (narrator). More about this 7 Star Arts mixed media concert here

Denis Kozhukin (Wigmore Hall) – “sweet sonorities and ravishingly spacious phrases, creating a sense of relaxed ecstasy” Review here


Akhenaten (ENO/Coliseum) – an enthralling new production of Philip Glass’s opera. Review here

Leif Ove Andsnes & Friends (Dulwich Picture Gallery) – an engaging and varied concert of music by Nordic composers to coincide with an exhibition of paintings by Nikolai Astrup. Review here

Francoise-Green Duo (St John’s Smith Square) – part of the FG Duo’s Viennese Salon residency, appropriately as I flew to Vienna the day after this concert. Review here

Pierre-Laurent Aimard (Vienna Konzerthaus) – I couldn’t go to Vienna and not go to a concert! A romantic and uplifting performance of Beethoven’s 5th Concerto by PLA.

Nazrin Rashidova (violin) & Daniel Grimwood (piano) (St James’s Piccadilly) – lovely mixed programme of music by Mozart and Poulenc, plus Daniel’s Nocturne, which was, for me, redolent of Liszt and Ravel. Beautiful colourful playing by Nazrin, sensitively accompanied by Daniel. I was lucky enough to hear this fine duo again in November in Wimbledon.

Peter Jablonski (Cadogan Square) – Ravel’s glorious G major Piano Concerto and Gershwin’s exuberant hommage to New York, Rhapsody in Blue, performed by a pianist whom I had the pleasure to meet and interview shortly before the concert.

Beethoven Choral Fantasy Op 80 & Brahms German Requiem – a wonderful performance of Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy by my friend Elspeth Wyllie, followed by an absorbing German Requiem, at St Luke’s Balham

St John Passion/Bach (SJSS) -Polyphony and the OAE, conducted by Stephen Layton. A stunning and very moving performance of Bach’s greatest Passion, on Good Friday.


Andras Schiff, The Final Sonatas (Wigmore Hall) – the penultimate piano sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven & Schubert. My first encounter with Andras Schiff live in concert. Review here

Iphigénie en Tauride (Drayton Arms Theatre) – startling and immediate “opera in a pub”, by Euphonia Opera Co. Review here

St John Passion/Bach (SJSS) -Polyphony and the OAE, conducted by Stephen Layton. A stunning and very moving performance of Bach’s

Rolf Hind (Wigmore Hall) – unusual and sometimes challenging contemporary music for piano by the pianist with the deepest, most elegant bow in London 🙂

Pierre-Laurent Aimard/Vingt Regards (Milton Court) – my first visit to Milton Court at Guildhall. A remarkable concert in a fine acoustic. Review here


The Dark Mirror: Zender’s Winterreise with Ian Bostridge (Barbican Theatre) – a wonderfully quirky yet sensitive and highly atmospheric reworking of Schubert’s late great song cycle. Review here

Concert for North-West Music Trust (Altrincham) – me at the piano in this instance, playing music by Mendelssohn, Cheryl Frances-Hoad and Schubert (D959). My first “proper” concert of my fellowship diploma programme to a very friendly audience and lovely welcoming hosts.

BBC Young Musician Final – an inspiring and uplifting final to the 2016 BBC Young Musician Competition. Review here

Richard Goode – Schubert’s Last Three Sonatas (Royal Festival Hall) – a perfect evening of beautiful piano playing. The finest reading of the D959 for me….. More here

Steven Osborne/The Music of Silence (Milton Court) – back to Milton Court for music by George Crumb and Morton Feldman. Review here


The Threepenny Opera (National Theatre) – a delightfully dirty, louche, foul-mouthed and witty production with fine performances by Roy Kinnear and Haydn Gwynne

Piano 4-hands at Conchord Festival (St Mary’s Twickenham) – a new local music festival in Twickenham. Review here


Daniel Grimwood/Markson Pianos Series – Sonatas by Schubert, including the great G major, D894, performed on a magnificent Bosendorfer piano by a pianist who really understands this repertoire


Louis Lortie/Chamber Prom (Cadogan Hall) – my first live encounter with this pianist whose programme spoke of Italian holidays and sunshine. Review here

Scenes from the End (Camden Peoples Theatre) – one-woman opera with Heloise Werner. Review here

The Makropoulos Case/Proms


Proms in the Car Park – a very unusual concert experience: music by Steve Reich performed in a disused multi-storey carpark in Peckham. Review here

Music Marathon (St John’s SMith Square) – I was delighted to have the chance to perform at SJSS, albeit for 15 minutes (!) as part of the music marathon for London Open House weekend. Great to hear and meet other pianists and I made new friends too!

Nick van Bloss (Wigmore Hall) – intense and athletic Beethoven, and lovely to meet Nick in person afterwards

Igor Levit/Beethoven (Wigmore Hall) – the launch of Levit’s Beethoven sonatas cycle. Review here


Steven Isserlis & Olli Mustonen (Wigmore Hall) – a chance to catch up with a friend who used to be my most regular concert companion (now resident in Spain).

Liszt’s B minor Sonata – lecture & concert (Kings Place). An insightful and revealing talk by Alfred Brendel followed by a performance of a sonata which I have never liked! Review here

Two-Piano Extravaganza (Kings Place) – Part of the inaugural London Piano Festival, this concert was a feast of high-class pianism. Review here

Don Giovanni (ENO/Coliseum) – a splendidly raunchy production, made even better by our Secret Seats in the front row of the Dress Circle, plus interval champagne!

Quartet for the End of Time (SJSS) – a privilege to turn the pages for my friend the pianist Daniel Grimwood, and to enjoy the pianist’s perspective of this extraordinary work. Profound and moving.

Dina Duisen and Friends (1901 Arts Club) – music for piano and clarinet at my favourite small venue

The Prince Concert with Stephen Hough (Wigmore Hall) – atmospheric and varied songs by Stephen Hough, including the premiere of his ‘Dappled Things’. Review here


Steve Reich (Barbican Hall) – Electric Counterpoint amongst other minimalist wonders

Lulu (ENO) – a visually stunning new production by William Kentridge

Winterreise in English (Wigmore Hall) – revelatory performance by Roderick Williams and Christopher Glynn, the English translation bringing a startling immediacy to the narrative of Schubert’s song cycle.


Concert for SPIN/Specialists in Pain International (St John’s Waterloo) – I performed in a fundraising concert with a pianist colleague and soprano Anna Cavaliero. A really wonderful evening of shared music making (

Melvyn Tan at Spitalfields Music (St Leonard’s Spitalfields) – fine pianism and three premieres. Review here

Helen Burford (St Nicholas, Brighton) – a typically eclectic and imaginative concert of “global exotica” including a Tarantella for Toy Piano by Stephen Montague. Atmospheric,  quirky and elegantly presented

Russian Winter Weekend Concert (Dorich House, Kingston) – Russian music arranged for flute and harp with Alena Lugobvkina (flute) and Anne Denholm (harp) and a chance to explore the Art Deco home of artist Dora Gordine. A delightful evening

In addition, I have also enjoyed….

Discovering the organ at St John’s Smith Square (more here)

Some fine concerts at my local music society by performers including Ben Socrates, Joseph Tong, Peter Murdock Saint and Jennifer Heslop, Jelena Makarova, amongst many others

The Magic Flute (directed by Simon Burney) at ENO. Magical, quirky and beguiling.

Fine performances at London Piano Meetup Group events by people who are not professional musicians but for whom the piano is a passion, an obsession and more….

Brave (and occasionally tearful!) performances by adult amateur pianists at my workshop at the 1901 Arts Club on 3 December

Accompanying one of my students who played Massenet’s ‘Meditation’ from Thaïs in a special retirement mass for her headmistress, and accompanying a friend at her Grade 5 French Horn exam (which she passed with distinction!).

Making new friends via social media who are proving enjoyable and stimulating concert companions.

The launch of the Music into Words project which explores writing about classical music today – next event is on 12 February 2017 with a great line-up of speakers (book tickets)

And I am very much lo0king forward to 2017 when I will hear

Martha Argerich (for the first time)

Daniil Trifonov

Anna Tsybuleva (winner of the Leeds Piano Competition)

Boris Berezovsky

Pierre-Laurent Aimard

And no doubt much more besides…..





Meet the Artist……Moritz Eggert, composer

Photo: Christian Hartlmeier
Photo: Christian Hartlmeier

Who or what inspired you to take up composing, and pursue a career in music? 

I was taken by surprise – I had always enjoyed music and played the piano for quite a while, without becoming truly excellent. Then I was asked to play keyboards in a school band and suddenly found I enjoyed both playing and composing much more than I had thought. Soon I became absolutely obsessed, practicing 10 hours a day to make up for the lazy time before. And then I became increasingly frustrated with the limitations of band playing and veered more towards contemporary and classical music. I think that impressing the girls was also an extremely strong motivation. I was 15.

Who or what were the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer? 

I listened to a lot of classical music LP’s when I was a kid, also to more progressive pop music like Emerson, Lake and Palmer (which impressed the hell out of me back then). My mother is a theatre photographer, so I was confronted with long and boring operas from a very early age on. I guess I like them more now. My favourite record for 5 years was a recording of “Pictures at an Exhibition” played by Svjatoslav Richter, I played that record so often it completely wore out. I was distinctly aware that composing music was something magical and important, and I constantly heard my own music in my head but didn’t really know what to do about it. Later Erik Satie was the first composer I fanatically loved. I was always – and I still am – especially interested in the outsiders and eccentrics of music. Charles Ives was also very important. I was also lucky to have teachers who showed me interesting music and widened my horizon.

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far? 

Realizing that not everyone will love what you do, regardless of how hard you try. And then having the constant courage to give a damn about it, to follow your own instincts, to follow your own intuition. Dealing with envy, your own and that of others. All of this is a constant challenge. Every morning I wake up and try to handle it a little better.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece? 

I only work on commissioned pieces, so I don’t really know the difference anymore. But of course I remember a time when I didn’t have commissions at all, and back then it was much more difficult to focus and to work with discipline, as there was no real goal, no performance ahead. Dealing with deadlines is harsh, but it has made me a better composer. The secret is to not accept commissions for which you cannot find inspiration, or even better: to have ideas that actually create the commissions you want.

What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles and orchestras? 

It is always an advantage knowing who will perform your music, especially in the case of singers. But then you should always write in a way that everybody can perform your music, at least in theory, so I try not to get too carried away if great virtuosos perform my music. Of course that doesn’t always work. An orchestra too can be like a person, either you get along well or you don’t. I write easier for an orchestra that I already know, that has already played my work. But it is not essential, I also had very positive experiences with performers who I didn’t know before at all.

Which works are you most proud of?

I try to not give anything to anybody that I am not proud of in a way. And then I actually also try to not be too proud, to not constantly look at what I have done. I never listen to old pieces and bask in my glory. But in general the things I am the most “proud” of are my operas, my songs, my orchestra music, my chamber music. Which is already a lot of different things. It would feel strange to single out something, which does of course not mean that everything is equally good. But I really do not contemplate my work, I’m too busy writing it.

Who are your favourite musicians/composers? 

Too many to list here. This is not a cop-out – I truly feel that music history (including the present) is so diverse and rich that singling out anybody feels strange. All the names we know from the past usually deserve to be known, which still doesn’t mean I’m a big admirer of Richard Wagner. But I also respect his work of course. I constantly discover new things, and I also change my mind about composers. I used to loathe Feldman, now I like him. I used to like Prokoffieff, now I find him a bit dull. I felt nothing for Mahler, now he is extremely dear to my heart. I loved the first piano sonata from Kabalevsky, now I feel it’s a horrible, vacuous piece. If there is one composer who I always greatly admired and have never felt any different about it is Schumann. But there are more like him!

What is your most memorable concert experience? 

Playing a mixed program of contemporary and classical music to an audience coming from a slum in Lomé, Togo (West Africa). They had been lured into the concert hall by free food and had never heard any piano music in their life. I think they were the most open-minded and enthusiastic audience I ever had. But there were other memorable experiences – like failing to play a concert in Tijuana, Mexico, because there was no piano chair to be found…anywhere. True story, but I’ll tell it another time.

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians? 

To never make the mistake to believe that anybody actually really knows what they are doing. To not listen to people who think they know what they are doing. To instead listen to people who are honest in their constant curiosity. To not listen if somebody says you shouldn’t do something, because then you should do it. In art – other than in life – it is really important to do the things that people do not expect from you. And this might also mean breaking rules that everybody thinks are set in stone. To realize that nothing is set in stone. To realize that all the music world is nothing but a big meaningless circus of vanities and to find the strength to believe in the musical truth that many don’t dare to confront because they take the easy way, because they are too scared. To acknowledge that the wonderful thing about music is that a lot of it is coming from a great unknown that we can (luckily) not map or fathom in its entirety. To be generous, to your friends and also to your colleagues. To absolutely believe in your own inspiration, no matter where it will take you. To take example in musicians and composers that you admire. To love. To write about what you love, not about what you think others might love.

Where would you like to be in 10 years’ time? 

At home with my family, working on a new opera.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? 

Being at home with my family, working on a new opera.

What is your most treasured possession? 

Sadly I have a collector’s heart and have many treasured possessions, among them a collection of 1500 board games, single malt whiskies, comics, films, books…sometimes it becomes too much. So I would probably answer that my single most treasured possession is my firm belief in the freedom and necessity of imagination.

What do you enjoy doing most?

Living and learning.

What is your present state of mind? 

Hoping that the idiots don’t succeed.

Moritz Eggert was born 1965 in Heidelberg, Germany. After early piano studies he began his music education at Dr.Hoch’s Konservatorium in Frankfurt, first in piano (with Wolfgang Wagenhäuser) and theory, then in composition (with Claus Kuehnl). After finishing school he studied piano with Leonard Hokanson at the Musikhochschule Frankfurt. 1986 he moved to Munich to study composition with Wilhelm Killmayer at the Musikhochschule Muenchen. Later he continued his piano studies with Raymund Havenith in Frankfurt, and his composition studies with Hans-Jürgen von Bose in Munich.

In 1992 he spent a year in London as a post-graduate composition student with Robert Saxton at the Guildhall School for Music and Drama. His main duo partner is the cellist Sebastian Hess. In 1996 he presented the complete works for piano solo by Hans Werner Henze for the first time in one concert, a programme that he continues to play with great success. In 1989 he was a prizewinner at the International Gaudeamus Competition for Performers of Contemporary Music.

As a composer Moritz Eggert has been awarded with prizes like the composition prize of the Salzburger Osterfestspiele, the Schneider/Schott-prize, the “Ad Referendum”-prize in Montréal, the Siemens Förderpreis for young composers, and the Zemlinsky Prize. 1991 he founded – together with Sandeep Bhagwati – the A*Devantgarde festival for new music, which has taken place for the 6th time in June 2001. His concert-length cycle for piano solo, Haemmerklavier, has been a great international success with reviewers and audiences alike. Moritz Eggert has covered all genres in his work his oeuvre includes 5 large-scale operas, ballets, and works for dance and music theatre, often with unusual performance elements. 1997 German TV produced a feature-length film portrait about his music.

Among his more recent important works are the concert-length cycle for voice and piano Neue Dichter Lieben featuring 20 love poems by contemporary german authors, and the orchestra piece Scapa Flow. His next projects include the children’s opera Dr. Booger’s Scary Scheme for the opera Frankfurt (with Andrea Heuser) and the ongoing internet project Variations IV.XX for 21 composers and live musicians.

Chopin and I: Music that Transcends

In June 2016, the Piano Dao blog published my interview with pianist and composer Tobin Mueller in which he speaks frankly, at times painfully so, about his chronic illness and its effect on his creative life. Now, in this guest post, Tobin Mueller discusses how the music of Chopin in particular has enabled him to transcend the limitations of his illness…..


Something unexpected happened on my way to the future: my body got older much faster than my brain. Yet, I can say with certainty, I am enjoying my life as much as ever, albeit with altered definitions for expressions like “work day”, “feeling good” and “ambition.”

My latest recording celebrates the transcendence of illness and limitations. “Of Two Minds: The Music of Frédéric Chopin and Tobin Mueller” is not just an homage to Chopin, but a tribute to music that transforms and aspires. Disc 1 is made up of jazz-inflected interpretations of Chopin; Disc 2 includes three original piano sonatas based on his Preludes. (It’s a double album.)

Most people sense in music an extension of themselves. Music both reminds us and inspires us. It reminds us of a glorious past while making us ponder our future potential. Chopin, however, does something more. He doesn’t just remind me how great music can be, but how the act of creating music can eclipse pain, weariness, melancholy and doubt.



My musical conversations with Chopin proved to be the most satisfying I’ve had in recent years. Perhaps it’s because his music incorporates jazz-like changes and a constant sense of improvisation. If I’m being honest, however, our shared history of health issues may have more to do with it.

As you know, Chopin suffered from tuberculosis his entire life. In addition, his sister contracted it at age 11 and died of it at age 15. I’ve often considered how his illnesses (he had more than one) affected his music. In my youth, I had every malady a child could contract, including 5 bouts of different measles, three of pneumonia, 7 weeks lost to mononucleosis [glandular fever], etc. Yet, instead of it being a burden, I loved those afternoons at home with my mother, not having to attend school. She let me drink soda when I had a fever, something not allowed otherwise. She’d talk in ways she never would when the family was around. Even hospital stays were more like spiritual retreats than impositions. (I had 6 collapsed lungs and several surgeries as a teenager.) Those moments apart from the “normal” world became nostalgic sanctuaries that fed my creative imagination.

Composers, writers and musicians need to spend a lot of time alone to nurture and perfect their craft. My illnesses provided me with a quiet space to practice productive solitude.

In addition, my sister died after a 10-year illness from A1AD complications. Seven years ago, I learned that I shared this same condition. I was 15 when she died. Her death affected my entire creative life. (Her dying wish was that I learn to play Joni Mitchell’s “River” and to understand the music theory behind it. This may seem peculiar, but ours was a very musical family and my sister tried to pass along as much of her musical expertise as she could.) Did the death of Chopin’s sister (again, from a shared illness) affect his creative life, as well?

On a conceptual level, almost all of my music tries to lend meaning to mortality. Mortality frames beauty, is an impetus to cherish, ironically opens the door to the sublime. The vast majority of my music celebrates substantive meaning: life is fragile, sharing life in an honest way is how to conjure joy. Even my fast songs tend to end softly, like an amen. Even my slow songs tend to have a discordant moment of unexpected drama tucked somewhere in the middle, as a reminder. I can’t help but find these same sentiments in Chopin’s music, these same celebrations.

Unlike Chopin, most of my adult life was conducted in good health. I had almost infinite energy, a huge reservoir of adrenaline. I viewed bouts of illness as mere interruptions. (Chopin probably felt the same way in his 20s.) There was an effortlessness to much of what I accomplished. But after 9/11, I began to develop omnipresent lung issues. I dismissed them as a result of volunteering at Ground Zero, recalling the old adage “No good deed goes unpunished.” By 2010, however, I coughed continually. I had to stop performing. When chest pains became too intrusive, when I had trouble simply breathing, my wife finally convinced me to go to a doctor. I was diagnosed with A1AD. The condition was exacerbated by 9/11 exposure, but it was a ticking time bomb, regardless.

The specialist who delivered the diagnosis gave me 8-12 years to live. I was 54.

Of course, old musicians never die, they just go bar to bar. Old composers just decompose. But, then again, some composers never die, they just become music.

A1AD (Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency) occurs because of a genetic mutation. This mutated gene results in a deficiency of proteins that mitigate swelling, bolster immunity, and do a whole host of other beneficial things. In place of these necessary proteins, my body creates mutated ones, some of which can be harmful. (These harmful proteins are what killed my sister 45 years ago. Her liver failed, over time, trying process them.) This was why I was always sick as a kid, why I’ve had a sinus infection for 30 years, why I am prone to flu and pneumonia. This is also why my lung tissue, joints and nerve fibers swell up (and fail to un-swell in a timely manner), triggered by stress, diet, or repetitive activities like playing the piano.

Stress is my main enemy. Here’s a good story to illustrate: I was asked to write a song about an Iraq War veteran. To get myself in the mood, I turned to my favorite Vietnam Era tune for inspiration: “Goodnight Saigon” by Billy Joel. (It’s a remarkable example of songwriting and creative production.) As the song reached its third verse, I quietly began crying, filled as I was with memories, loss, heartache. When the final chorus kicked in, what had been a happy drinking lyric transformed into a full-on comrades-in-arms oath of inevitable destruction, “And we all go down together”… Tears flowed from my eyes; my nose started to run. Suddenly, I could barely breath. My lungs had swollen so rapidly it was as if I had induced pneumonia in a matter of minutes. It was terrifying.

When I got to the doctors and explained what happened, he simply said, “Don’t cry anymore.” So, I avoid crying, along with many other things…

I avoid the stress of directing, live performance, traveling alone. I avoid staying up late, practicing too long, juggling too many thoughts at once. I avoid encounters with stressful people, stressful deadlines, stressful exercise. I avoid red wine, air that has particulates in it, sounds that are too loud.

In short, I’ve changed my entire life. I no longer live in Manhattan. I’m semi-retired. I plan my schedule to accommodate rest times, pill times, neti pot times. I reassessed every goal, every daily and long-term process in the context of short term health. My “work day” has decreased from 16 hours to 6, usually with a nap wedged in there somewhere. “Feeling good” now means managing pain so that it doesn’t suppress minimal activity. “Ambition” no longer includes dreams of mounting a show on Broadway or performing at The Garden; I just want to record as much as I can before I can’t.

Changing my life has not been a bad thing. On the contrary, creating an “Act 2” is like being able to live yet another life. I’ve already done the over-busy workaholic always-on-the-move social whirlwind thing. Having time to read again, to listen to other people’s music, to cook at leisure, all these are quality of life increases. I don’t mind having a “simplified” social calendar. I like being able to ignore Facebook guilt-free. I embrace going to bed early and maybe watching an old film. I love sitting in the yard and listening to songbirds…a healthy relaxation as opposed to an irresponsible use of time. I savor walking along Long Island Sound, breathing deeply the salt air, thinking this is exactly what the doctor ordered. When I am able to practice at the piano, I feel blessed, no longer compelled for reasons that have more to do with expectations than fulfillment.

The funny thing is, I’m as productive as ever. In many ways, having greater calm in my life has equipped me with the space to enjoy each new idea. Without rushing about, I am content to relish. And I am writing more music per year than I did twenty years ago.

Bending my life to consequences of illness has made my music more personal than before. It’s not just that I’m not writing for characters in a musical. I’m writing for myself in a different way, to become the music I imagine represents my spirit. It’s yet another reason I was drawn to Chopin.

His music is profoundly personal, even when it demonstrates virtuoso techniques. Everything he wrote comes across as private expression, an aural diary. There is a revolutionary amount of spontaneity in his music. Chopin provided me license to explore these aspects of my music without apology, with happy abandoned.

And then there is his relationship with George Sand.

The intersection of illness and music became more important as I read through the writings of George Sand. She, above everyone, understood Chopin’s frailty. She protected his genius by protecting his health. Although she was seen as “vulgar” and almost dangerously modern in her mannerisms and beliefs, Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin (George Sand’s real name) proved to be his most nourishing friend and most influential love. He called her his “angel.” I consider my wife, Suzanne, to be my angel. Without question, her devotion to my health has nourished my music. I love this parallel with Chopin. George Sand not only nursed him, she cherished his innocent elegance (unique among the Bad Boys of the Romantics). Sand worried that “his sensibility is too finely wrought, too exquisite, too perfect to survive for long.” Suzanne has said very similar things about my innocence and openness, traits that become more precarious with age.

Chopin’s ‘shyness’ may well have been a mechanism required to preserve himself and, above all, protect his art. The reserve and distance Chopin maintained between himself and the world may well be explained within the context of his limited energy and worrisome health. His music is perfectly suited for intimate settings; small salon performances also suited his state of health. Indeed, my music has evolved since I’ve had to give up live performing. Recording alone in the darkened studio, often with an elbow or wrist brace to battle nerve pain, deters me from playing loud passages or extended runs. So, I simply avoid writing them.

I now play to an audience of one: the single listener whom I imagine is sitting in headphones. I write extremely personal music both because I find it most satisfying and because that is now my only mode of communication.

I always experience a sense of magic when I sit at the piano – a very old magic that, paradoxically, makes me feel very young. Adrenaline and serotonin may have something to do with it, but there truly seems to be a mystical element.  To be a part of the miracle of music-as-unbroken-mutual-inspiration is an ongoing thrill. Was it my imagination that Chopin sat next to me as I rearranged his work, balancing my eagerness to pay tribute with my desire for self-expression?

Interpreting Chopin was not just a privilege, but an opportunity to grow and commune. After “Of Two Minds,” I feel as if Chopin’s music has woven itself into my own, even as our lives are now somehow linked. I realize this is a surreal internal fiction, but it feels no less real. Above all, I hope you hear it in my music. The piano binds so many of us. Are not all musicians connected by a magic we cannot explain?

― Tobin Mueller, December 2016


Tobin Mueller


Tobin Mueller has composed and performed musical theatre, jazz, progressive rock, pop, classical, film scores and children’s music. He has written fiction, political essays, poetry, domestic humor and video games. He has worked with Dave Brubeck, Ron Carter, Michael Hedges, Donny McCaslin, Maynard Ferguson, Jon Anderson (from Yes) and Brian Welch (“Head” from Korn), among others. As a Dramatist Guild playwright and composer, he’s had six musicals produced in Manhattan. In 1994, he was inducted into the United Nations’ Global 500 Roll of Honor, in London, for his work with youths and the environment.


Mueller’s official website is an excellent resource to sample his music. His recordings are available on CDBaby, iTunes, Amazon and Spotify.







Loft of Delights – organ recitals at St John’s Smith Square


The splendid venue that is St John’s Smith Square, a beautiful eighteenth century church nestled amongst government offices and ministries in the heart of Westminster, is fast becoming one of my favourite London concert spaces – not just for piano music but also chamber, orchestral and choral music. I’ve even performed there myself, albeit a mere “15 minutes of fame” as part of St John’s 24-hour Music Marathon! And since September, I’ve been attending the monthly lunchtime organ recitals through which I’ve discovered a real liking for organ music. This is in part down to a friend of mine who adores Bach’s magnificent Passacaglia in C minor, BWV582 (which we heard in November, performed by Peter Stevens), but who would probably never go to an organ concert without my instigation.

The organ at St John’s is not original, though the main organ case, built by Jordan, Byfield and Bridges in 1734 acquired from St George’s church in Great Yarmouth, compliments the wonderful Baroque interior. It was installed in St John’s in 1972, and a new, larger organ case was built to accommodate the new instrument, built by Orgelbau Klais Bonn, which offers an enormous range of musical colour and versatility, suitable for repertoire from the German Baroque to high romanticism and contemporary repertoire.

There’s something really special about hearing an organ being played in the grandeur of a ecclesiastical building such as St John’s Smith Square. Whatever one’s religious, or otherwise leanings, one cannot help but be uplifted and awestruck by the volume, range and variety of sounds, the way those deep base notes swell and vibrate in the pit of the stomach, and the soaring sounds of the upper registers.

The organ series at St John’s Smith Square, now in its fifth edition, offers a broad range of performers and music, including organ favourites such as Bach’s ‘Ein Feste Burg’ and works by the leading composers for organ, Louis Vierne and Olivier Messiaen. In fact, it was the concerts featuring works by Messiaen which first drew me to this series, and David Titterington’s profound, vibrant and intensely absorbing performance of ‘La Nativité du Seigneur’ on 15 December was an example of the exceptional quality of these concerts (David has also recorded this work for Hyperion). Earlier in the season, we enjoyed a wonderfully mixed programme of music by Mendelssohn, Bach, Wesley and Messiaen by Jennifer Bate (a world authority on the organ music of Messiaen). The concert also included a work by Jennifer Bate herself, her ‘Variations on a Gregorian Theme’.

Seating is unreserved in St John’s for these concerts so one can choose to sit almost beneath the instrument if one so desires. A camera in the organ loft projects onto a screen on the stage, offering a fascinating glimpse of the organist at work (I had no idea it was so energetic, with hands and feet engaged for much of the time!). From the point of view of the pianist’s technique, I found it particularly interesting to see how the organist achieves legato effects, given the technical demands and mechanics of the instrument. And the sheer physical sound of the instrument, its richness, textural variety and surprising delicacy, has been quite unexpected, and something I look forward to exploring further at future concerts.

Monthly lunchtime organ recitals continue at St John’s Smith Square until June. Full details here

W is for……

beyond-the-page-letter-wThe Well-Rounded Pianist

In a recent article, violinist Nigel Kennedy bemoans the “narrow” approach of the conservatoire system and its focus on technique over individuality. He also cites Yehudi Menuhin (who paid Kennedy’s fees at the Purcell School) as a major influence in encouraging him to explore other genres of music, including jazz.

I do not believe music should be studied in a vacuum, separate from other arts or life-experience, but in our desire to seek perfection in what we do, to practise so that we never play a wrong note, I think there is a danger of losing sight of where the music we play comes from. It is not just thickets of notes on a page, but the expression of emotions, hopes and desires, of another sentient human being – the composer.

And so in order to transmit the composer’s intentions to our audience, I believe we should take a well-rounded approach to our music making. Cutting oneself off from normal life by spending hours and hours in the practise room is not healthy. Aside from the law of diminishing returns (after about 3 hours you stop taking in information and are simply “typing” the music), it is important to remember that the composers whose music we love and revere were normal people too – they too had love affairs, went out drinking with mates, and enjoyed a good meal with friends and colleagues – and we can connect better to them and their music if we go out and live life, just as they did. Having a social life, meeting friends, going out together, eating and drinking, going to the theatre, the cinema, art exhibitions, reading trashy novels, falling in love, falling out of love: all this feeds into our cultural and creative landscape to nourish, inspire and inform our music-making.

Of course, being a well-rounded pianist or musician is much more than this. It is about technique, for sure, but it is also about getting to the heart of the music to understand the context of its creation, why it is special. In order to do this, we need to study social and historical context, “listen around” the music to better appreciate that composer’s unique soundworld, compose, analyse and understand the philosophy of music. We should explore literature, art, poetry, go to concerts, play in ensembles, listen to music from other genres, and always – always – remain open-minded and curious. We also need to accept that there is no “right way”, to trust our musical instincts, have the courage of our convictions and not constantly compare ourselves to nor compete with others. When all these things combine, I believe we can truly be well-rounded musicians.





Let’s play piano – NO excuses!

There is absolutely no need to regret not having learned to play an instrument simply because it is truly never too late to do so. Sure, people like to tell themselves that they’re too old for learning something new, but that’s just not true because we never actually cease to learn new things.

The only thing that stands in the way of you playing the piano is making the conscious decision to learn how to play. To avoid the hassle of finding a piano teacher and rearranging your schedule to commit to lessons, piano-teaching apps such as flowkey  exist.


Learning the piano has never been easier or more comfortable than it is in our day and age. Although no app can fully replace an experienced piano teacher, flowkey comes pretty close! flowkey teaches you all there is to know about playing the piano and reading sheet music in the comfort of your home. All you need to get started is a computer (PC, Mac, laptop) or tablet (iOS and Android) and your instrument (piano, digital keyboard, etc.). Open the app in your web browser or download the app for your tablet, sign up, and you’re all set.


Signing up for flowkey is a quick and easy process. You answer three questions to enable the app to categorize your level of experience and create a specific learning plan just for you, and you’re all set to go. The way the app works is simple: you choose a piece of music and start learning it. “But how does that work,” you might ask, “if you have no experience reading sheet music?” Ah, not to worry: the app’s player not only shows you the sheet music that “flows” across your screen but also a bird’s-eye view of a professional pianist’s hands, playing the music. These keys are even highlighted with bright colors to make it easier to follow along visually.


One very helpful feature of flowkey is that it provides you with real-time feedback while allowing you to learn at your own pace. You don’t have to be shy or embarrassed to repeat a difficult section an extra time: flowkey is a friendly piano teacher that accommodates you and adapts to your desires and wishes. Speaking of wishes, if there’s a particular song or piece of music that you’d like to learn which isn’t available in the flowkey library, you can always contact the support team to request your song wish which then gets recorded and released in one of the upcoming monthly song releases.


The bottom line is that flowkey is a great tool for people of all ages and levels. The songs and courses are meant for both beginners and advanced piano students who can take on the challenge of learning a difficult Chopin prelude or perhaps completing the “Chords & Pop Piano” course to improve their improvisation skills. The best way to start (or continue) your musical journey and test out this revolutionary method is to try it out for yourself!

Find out more

This is a sponsored post. All information and images are supplied by flowkey




Disclaimer: The Cross-Eyed Pianist does not necessarily endorse organisations that provide sponsored posts which link to external websites, and does not endorse products or services that such organisations may offer. In addition, The Cross-Eyed Pianist does not control or guarantee the currency, accuracy, relevance, or completeness of information found on linked, external websites. However, every effort is made to ensure such information contained on this site is accurate at the time of publication.

Meet the Artist……Natalie Burch


Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in music? 

It was my mother who first took me off to piano lessons age five although I can’t really say it was a particular calling at that age – I’m fairly sure I was going to be Prime Minister. It was not until I was a bit older and not really practising enough that my mum made me sign a contract promising that I would practise every day or the piano and the lessons would be gone! It was only then that I began to realise just what an important part of my life music was and became determined to dedicate myself to it further. Actually pursuing a career in music was never a particular ambition, however, until age 16 I was on the Chetham’s Piano Summer School and one of the professors simply said ‘why are you not here?’. Well, I didn’t have an answer so the next year I enrolled as a student and haven’t looked back since!

Who or what have been the most important influences on your musical life and career? 

I’ve been so lucky with my piano teachers over the years and they have all been hugely influential, but the person who really believed in my abilities as a pianist and really challenged me to be the best I could be, was John Railton. John was an astonishing man – with only one arm he managed to have a successful career as a pianist and conductor, recording for the BBC, conducting at the major concert halls and being the central point of many different communities music making. He had a total disregard for potential obstacles and just believed firmly that I would be a pianist – I really wouldn’t be here without him!

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far? 

The biggest challenge for me is performance anxiety – I wouldn’t say I get crippling nerves but I have found it frustrating sometimes when I can’t achieve the same focus on the music because my mind is worrying about being worried! The challenge is to find techniques to control any anxiety and transform it from something destructive into a positive energy. As an accompanist I have also had to become very time efficient. Our job often involves learning lots of repertoire in very short periods of time and the ability to practise efficiently without getting injured is paramount.

Which performance/recordings are you most proud of?  

I recently launched the Devon Song Festival and I was so pleased with our inaugural concert. There was an unusual amount of pressure in organising the event, trying to keep the audience happy and performing but it went brilliantly and our reception was so enthusiastic. I’m so thrilled it was success and we can expand the festival next year.

Which particular works do you think you play best? 

I definitely feel most at home in the song repertoire, specifically German lieder and English song though I also love the sound world of cello and piano sonatas and am beginning to explore this further. I love playing with singers because I am able to find a deeper connection to the music when text is set. I rarely perform as a solo pianist these days but when I do it’s nearly always Russian: Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev being particular favourites!

Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in and why? 

Last year I played at the Wigmore Hall for the first time and I absolutely loved it. It’s such an intimate space and from the piano it feels perfect as a hall for song. There is incredible clarity in the acoustic and you can really challenge yourself as to how quiet you can play and what extremes of articulation you can reach. It of course helps that the piano is absolutely beautiful too!

Favourite pieces to perform? Listen to? 

This year I’ve been working on Stephen Hough’s ‘Other Love Songs’ (for a performance at Wigmore in May 2016) and it is just the most brilliant cycle. It was written as a companion piece for the Brahms Liebeslieder waltzes and really cleverly picks up on themes from the original work but set to a wonderful selection of texts covering all forms of love and emotions from the heart-breaking to the comic. My personal highlight in the performance comes near the end where the pianists get to join in singing and my part is mostly just hitting the piano!

Who are your favourite musicians? 

I’m lucky enough to be taught by one of my favourite musicians, Eugene Asti. I have huge admiration for his attention to detail and respect for the score and the history of every work he plays. Importantly it is not only theoretical but you can really hear all that detail in his playing and it brings the music to life amazingly. Another is Iain Burnside, his playing is so robust and clear and I find his recordings of English song especially moving in their simplicity.

What do you consider to be the most important ideas and concepts to impart to aspiring musicians? 

I suppose as I’m still a student I would consider myself to be still aspiring! But I definitely think all young musicians need to think about more than just practise and performing. I’ve been working with Alisdair Hogarth recently and he has shown me the importance of being savvy when it comes to self-promotion and the commercial side of music making. He suggested that we should be spending as much time promoting performances and developing our career as we do practising. Whilst I can’t quite bring myself to do that just yet, I can see that when I leave music college, working hard to find performances and creating appealing programmes will be just as important as working on technique!

Where would you like to be in 10 years’ time? 

In ten years’ time I would like to be living in London enjoying a fledgling career as a song accompanist and working as a broadcaster for Radio 3. Basically, I would like to follow in the footsteps of Iain Burnside!

Originally from Devon, Natalie Burch initially studied with John Railton before moving to Manchester to study solo piano with Peter Lawson at Chetham’s School of Music. In 2014 she graduated with first class honors from King’s College London where she studied musicology and took lessons at the Royal Academy of Music with Daniel-Ben Pienaar and Andrew West.  Natalie is currently studying for a masters in accompaniment at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama under the tutelage of Eugene Asti and Andrew West.

Recent and future highlights include performing at the Wigmore Hall alongside Alisdair Hogarth and the Prince Consort, a new commission for the Leeds Lieder festival, rehearsal pianist for Tchaikowsky ‘Rococo Variations’ with Guy Johnston, a recital for the Elgar Society and a number of concerts and masterclasses as resident pianist for Opera Prelude.

Read more about Natalie here



Frances Wilson blogs on pianism, classical music and culture