At the Piano with Lorraine Augustine

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | March 6, 2023

What is your first memory of the piano?

My maternal grandmother was a professional pianist and teacher, so my mother and her sisters played a bit and my parents loved classical music in particular, so I grew up surrounded by music. I started playing the piano at around aged 6 and I have a very vivid memory of my piano teacher, her house and her beautiful grand piano.

This first teacher was incredibly strict and rather scary, but I loved my piano lessons despite her rather formidable demeanour, and I loved practising. I never had to be reminded to practice, but my siblings often begged my mother to ‘please make her stop now!’ My first piano was a battered old upright but I loved it and just wanted to play constantly so as a result I progressed very quickly, but I think my siblings were relieved when my parents decided to create a downstairs bedroom for me so that my piano could be moved in there and I could play until my heart was content without disturbing everyone else!

Who were your most memorable/significant teachers?

I have been incredibly lucky to study with some wonderful pianists and teachers, both in regular lessons and in masterclasses and workshops, including Graham Fitch, Artur Pizarro, Noriko Ogawa, Leslie Howard, Phillip Fowke, to name just a few. I have learned so much from each one and am fascinated by their individual approaches to the piano. I have often found it a good idea to take different works to different pianists, especially if they are renowned for recording and performing the works of that particular composer.

I think that world renowned pianist and teacher Graham Fitch is a truly wonderful teacher and his approach to effective practice and endless suggestions for ways of working through tricky phrases and passages is invaluable. There is no one quite like Graham in the world of piano teaching, he really is an inspiration both as a pianist and a teacher.

Who or what inspired you to start teaching?

I always knew that I wanted to be a musician, right from the very first time I touched the piano, and I think that my inspiration to teach came from the many wonderful teachers I have had and their gift for sharing the music in such an inspirational way.

The piano is such a huge part of my life and of me, it is something which has brought me much joy and which has also helped me through some very difficult times. The piano feels like a gift that needs to be shared with others and teaching always felt like a natural progression to me. I was very keen from a reasonably young age to pursue qualifications which would enable me to understand how to teach others to play this wonderful instrument.

Who or what are the most important influences on your teaching?

Interestingly, I think this has changed over the years as I have gone through various stages on my musical journey. I have always loved to continue to learn alongside my teaching and I would say that Graham Fitch is perhaps one of the greatest influences of my later teaching career. As well as the wealth of knowledge that Graham possesses, his lessons are delivered in a most respectful and generous way, he is sharing not ‘telling’, he is also a consummate professional and I really admire and love everything about his teaching style.

Your most memorable or significant teaching experiences?

Over my 40 year teaching career I have had many memorable and significant experiences, some are as simple as a student having a lightbulb moment when you explain or demonstrate articulation or phrasing in a certain way, or the look on their face when they are finally able to play the piece that has challenged them, musically and fluently, others are the big moments when a student passes an audition for a place at music college, plays a wonderful concert, passes a diploma or wins a class in a festival. I increasingly find that the simple moments are as significant and as much of a privilege to be part of as the big moments, after all it is the small steps on a student’s musical journey which will lead to the bigger achievements.

I do feel very privileged to be able to teach some wonderful students and to watch them progress over the years, some have gone on to have careers in music and for others music and the piano have become embedded into their lives in such an important way that I can honestly say that all my teaching experiences have felt memorable and significant.

What are the most interesting or challenging aspects of teaching adults?

I really do enjoy teaching adults, I find that most adults usually come to lessons well prepared and enthusiastic, ready to learn. However, adults can sometimes be very impatient with themselves, and a little self-critical particularly if they are juggling busy careers and home lives with trying to fit in time to practice. I often find that those with high flying careers can find it quite hard if progress is slow as they are used to a high level of success in their careers.

I particularly enjoy teaching advanced adult amateurs, I find that they tend to work very hard and are extremely dedicated to their practice and progress.

What do you expect from your students?

I do expect my students to practice and I am rather unbending on this! I realise that there are weeks when due to school or work commitments it can be really challenging to find time, but in all honesty, without effective practice, there will be no, or very minimal progress, and I am really clear about this with my students from the outset.

Effective practice can happen even when time is tight, and my lessons do focus on showing students how to practice effectively so that they can get the most of the practice time they have and progress well.

I also expect students to listen to music, to attend concerts and to turn up to their lessons ready to play and to learn.

What are your views on exams, festivals and competitions?

Exams, festivals and competitions need to work for the student, by that I mean that they can be a very important part of a student’s musical journey, but we have to use them in an appropriate manner and at an appropriate time, they are not the end goal, they are steps along the way, sometimes very helpful ones should the student wish to study for exams, perform in a festival or enter a competition. Equally, they do not suit everyone.

If a student is aiming for a career in music, then exams, festivals and competitions will likely need to be part of their journey. I believe that it is very much our job as teachers to know what our students may be capable of and to advise them accordingly, a student needs to be more than a really good performer to enter competitions, they need to be ready for them emotionally and mentally, as teachers, being as sure as we can be that this is the case is vital, as it can make the difference between a student enjoying a wonderful performance opportunity, or having their confidence damaged if they are not ready or do not have the emotional resilience.

If a student is ready for exams, festivals and competitions then these can be wonderful opportunities and a great experience for the student, however we really need to know our students and how they may cope with the pressure.

One of my huge bugbears in piano teaching is when an exam syllabus is used as a curriculum and a student goes merrily from one exam to another, I find that using exams in this way is soul destroying and totally unmusical, the piano has such extensive repertoire and we should be introducing our students to that rather than sticking rigidly to a graded exam syllabus, we do our students a huge disservice if we do this, quite honestly I find it to be an incredibly lazy way of teaching.

What are your thoughts on the link between performance and teaching?

I think that it is really important for piano teachers to be able to perform, even if this is no longer a regular part of their career, it is important that they understand how to

perform, after all, how can we teach our students to do something which we cannot or have never done ourselves. I realise that not all piano teachers perform regularly, quite often because the teaching aspect of their career leaves little time for the demands of performance, but to have done so is important. Performance is an art and one which we need to have knowledge and experience of to be able to advise our students on all the complexities it entails.

Who are your favourite pianists/pianist-teachers?

Most of my favourite pianists and pianist-teachers have been mentioned in earlier questions, most are people I have been lucky enough to study in some way with, Graham Fitch, Artur Pizarro, Leslie Howard, Noriko Ogawa, Phillip Fowke, Chenyin Li for example.

Murray Perahia is one of my all-time favourite pianists too, I especially love his Bach. Steven Kovacevich’s Schubert too is a must for me. Piers Lane is another favourite as are Marta Argerich and Daniel Barenboim.

I also love listening to Horowitz, Artur Rubinstein, Cortot and Arrau.

I could probably go on…

What’s the one thing we’re not talking about in the piano teaching world which you really think we should be?

The fact that anyone with even the most minimal knowledge of piano playing and perhaps none of teaching, can set up as a piano teacher is one thing that we really need to talk about. I wrote about this recently in one of my blog posts and it really did cause quite a stir, many were not happy to discuss this and some were offended by my raising the subject, however, I do feel that it needs to be discussed, and widely so, as there are far too many students who are having their technique and understanding of piano playing damaged by people who really should not be able to call themselves piano teachers.

Guildhall School alumni Lorraine Augustine is the granddaughter of a professional pianist and grew up surrounded by music, beginning formal piano lessons at a young age and knowing from the very first lesson that playing the piano was the only thing she really wanted to do.

Lorraine went on to achieve Diplomas in Performance and Teaching and to study with Pianists such as Graham Fitch, Noriko Ogawa, Artur Pizarro and Leslie Howard and holds a Post Graduate Certificate in Performance Teaching from Guildhall School.

Lorraine is a regular Adjudicator for Piano Festivals and competitions including the annual Junior Clementi Competition.

“I tell myself and the choir that it has to reach the audience as if it were brand new each time” – Richard Cooke, conductor

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | March 4, 2023

As the Royal Choral Society prepares to sing Handel’s Messiah on Good Friday, one of London’s great Easter traditions, I spoke to conductor Richard Cooke about his influences and inspirations, and how one keeps a work like Messiah fresh and exciting after conducting it for over 25 years.

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

I was a chorister at St Paul’s Cathedral from the age of 8 to 13. Some pieces we sang as anthems really inspired me, especially Recordare from Mozart’s Requiem, (which we sang in English to a truly terrible translation – *see below). This became my favourite piece of music from the age of 8, and it still is one of them. Also movements from Brahms’ Requiem, which I used to ‘conduct’ whilst listening to my mother’s record player. Seemed like fun.

Who or what are the most significant influences on your musical life?

Those five years at St. Paul’s were massively formative, though the choir was really not good! I could sight-sing music from the age of 11. I then had 4 years in Cambridge singing in King’s under David Willcocks, and after that I was teaching at Tiffin School for seven years. My colleague David Nield who was Director of Music (I was Director of Choral Music) made a huge and transformative impact on my life.

What, for you, is the most challenging part of being a conductor? And the most fulfilling?

My musical life has been choral conducting. The great challenge is to be an orchestral conductor when choirs sing concerts with orchestras. I try to conduct choirs ‘orchestrally’ so that they think that way when it all comes together. The most fulfilling thing is to come away from conducting a great work and feel good. Rare! There is usually something I would wish to have done better – it can be only a moment, but it’s there.

As a conductor, how do you communicate your ideas about a work to the orchestra?

Talk as little as possible. Show them what you want and be faithful to what one considers were the composer’s intentions.

Tell us more about the experience of conducting Handel’s Messiah…..

How do you keep such a well-known, well-loved work fresh for both performers and audience, especially in a large venue like the Royal Albert Hall?

This is the same for any professional. I saw an actor being interviewed about how he felt performing Hamlet 25 times and that was the same. You have to make each performance as unique as it is for the audience. This is easy. I have been fortunate to conduct this concert every year for about 27 years and I tell myself and the choir that it has to reach the audience as if it were brand new each time. The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra is wonderful in this respect too. I feel it has become bigger for me with the passing years.

What for you are the particular pleasures and challenges of conducting Messiah?

One has different soloists to engage with which is (nearly) always a pleasure, and the work slowly rises to its climactic end – particularly so in the Royal Albert Hall. That final 30 minutes is an inspirational and uplifting experience every time.

The main challenge is the choral writing in Part 1 where the choir is exposed to fast semiquaver ‘runs’ without orchestral support. From the beginning of Part 2 to the very end of Part 3, the strings play these demanding passages with the choir, and the support they provide is always reassuring. Mozart ‘solved’ this problem in his re-harmonised version of Messiah by giving all the fast-running sections in Part 1 to the soloists, with the choir joining only at the very end of each chorus. The only real challenge after that is never to coast along on ‘automatic pilot’.

Is there one work which you would love to conduct?

There are several I would like to return to, all of which are hugely expensive, including Berlioz’s Grande Messe des Morts and Damnation of Faust. A work which I wished I had been able to do is Honegger’s Jeanne d’Arc au Bûcher (Joan of Arc at the Stake), but promoters just smile when they see how much it would cost!

Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in?

I love conducting in the Royal Albert Hall and Canterbury Cathedral, though each has its challenges with the acoustic. I have other favourites – Birmingham, Bridgewater Hall, Liverpool, Gothenburg. A very beautiful venue for concerts is Lund Domkyrkan (Cathedral) in Sweden. I conduct a concert there each summer.

What do you do off stage that provides inspiration on stage?

The direct reply to that has to be preparing the music and how one is going to interpret it, assuming you are not looking for an answer like ‘take a cold shower’ or ‘walk up a Scottish Munro’.

What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music audiences?

A massive and prolonged revolution in schools. I work with children and it is the most inspirational thing to see how they engage when challenged. Schools are very under-nourished in music, and children are underestimated. Music provision has been declining for decades and there is a misconception that classical music is elitist. Becoming an elite performer does not make it ‘elitist’. There are elite sportspeople. I don’t think Joe Root or Marcus Rashford are elitist but they are elite.

As a musician, what is your definition of success?

Um…..I’m enjoying still being able to do what I do and have done for my whole life. My hobby is my career and whether I am successful or not is for others to judge.

What advice would you give to young or aspiring conductors/musicians?

I don’t presume to advise other than to say that you have always to prepare and work as much as is needed to master in detail whatever you aspire to.

What’s the one thing we’re not talking about in the music industry which you feel we should be?

The inadequacy of classical music provision in state schools and the value and enhancement it brings to children’s lives and well-being.

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

Where I am now. Maybe optimistic!

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Not sure but I’m perfectly happy

What is your most treasured possession?

Apart from family and friends I don’t really have one, but it feels special when I dig out a great score like Beethoven Missa Solemnis to prepare for another performance.

What is your present state of mind?

Sober

*Final stanza of Recordare from Mozart’s Requiem, early Novello edition:

“In thy favor’d sheep’s position

Keep me from the goat’s condition,

On thy right complete fruition”.

(I’m quite sure that if I had sung these words as an adult, the last word by many around me would have been change to ‘coition’.)

Richard Cooke conducts the Royal Choral Society in Handel’s Messiah on Good Friday, 7th April, at the Royal Albert Hall. The choir, which is celebrating its 150th anniversary, has performed Messiah every Good Friday since 1876. Only the 1940 Blitz and the 2020 Covid pandemic have prevented the performance of one of the UK’s favourite choral works.

Tickets and information

Richard Cooke was appointed Conductor of the Royal Choral Society in 1995, becoming Music Director in 1998, and has appeared with us in many concerts in the Royal Festival and Royal Albert Halls. Most notable of these have been their annual Good Friday performances of Handel’s Messiah, and spectacular Christmas Carol concerts. He has directed concerts with the RCS in the cathedrals of Peterborough, Winchester, Salisbury and Southwark. He has also recorded Orff’s Carmina Burana with the RCS together with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

Image credit: Kevin Day

“There are maybe 100 other things we could have done, but we chose to be musicians” – MILOŠ

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | January 10, 2023

Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in music and who or what have been the most important influences on your musical life and career?

I was exposed to music from a very early age, in a very natural, instinctive way. I simply responded to when my grandmother sang, or when my parents were listening to something on television, or if a song that I liked came on the radio. We had no formal classical music knowledge or education in my family. In Montenegro at that time, there was very little classical music, but somehow I was instinctively drawn to any sort of music.

Then, when I was 8 years old, I heard that it was possible to go to music school and that it was free, my parents didn’t have to pay for it, that I just had to go there and they would check whether you were musical or not. They thought that I was very musical. Originally, they wanted me to play the violin or the piano, but at home we had an old guitar that nobody played and that was much easier because my parents didn’t have to buy an instrument. It was a very challenging time in Montenegro in the 1990s and money was not abundant. So that was it, I ended up playing the guitar – and the rest is history!

The most important influences have been the people that I met on the way – my colleagues, mentors, teachers. I guess the first big inspiration was Segovia, because at the time when I was bored with the guitar at the age of 9, my father played me an old LP with his recording on it. That was the first time I heard what the classical guitar sounded like and I was completely mesmerised by what I heard. I said “I will one day played Asturias like that”, and I think that was a crucial, critical moment of inspiration. And then when I met David Russell when I was at the point between primary and secondary school (4 years before university in Montenegro) – that is when you decide what to specialise in – and I was torn because I was a very good student in school as well, and pursuing a career in music in Montenegro at that time wasn’t exactly a popular choice. But meeting David Russell in a masterclass in Italy really opened the doors for me, broadened my thinking and made me believe it was possible. He encouraged my career in music and said that if I was really serious about it, if I wanted to study and become the best musician I could possibly be, that I should come to London to the Royal Academy of Music. They have an amazing programme there and that when I was ready I should apply. From that moment on, that was all I could think about, and I made it happen a couple of years later.

Then when I came to London I took huge inspiration from the presence of John Williams and Julian Bream, and what they meant and represented in London. Having the chance to meet them both, to win the Julian Bream prize when I was a student, and to have his feedback was a huge inspiration. And John Williams through all his recordings and repertoire and his incredible way of playing that is, aesthetically, second to none. Other inspirations include great conductors, colleagues, musicians from different walks of life. I was very lucky to build a rich career of different influences and inspirations, and I always say “I am the luckiest plucker in the world!”.

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

I feel that we only go forward when we are challenged, and my life in music really happened against all the odds. The first was for me to find a way to go from Montenegro to London and study at the Royal Academy of Music. It was a kind of “mission impossible” to do that because we had completely different ways and systems in Montenegro. There was hardly any money, and suddenly I got a scholarship and I had to be in London. So being there was incredibly challenging. And then finding my way and learning and forgetting everything I knew and almost starting from scratch again; that too was a huge challenge.

The second one came when I finished my formal studies, when I developed this way of playing and when I felt ready to have an international career, and to realise that the world out there was not open to the guitar and guitarists in the same way it was 30 years ago, or that it is now, 12 years later. And pushing through that and breaking that glass ceiling was a huge challenge, but I was blessed with incredible stubbornness and determination. I had this one goal, and no plan B.

When I signed with a major recording label and got a wonderful manager, then I really started living the life of an international musician in a way I had always dreamt of. But then that life also comes with huge stresses and responsibilities: hardly any free time, everything that you do suddenly matters, knowing that all the eyes are on you, so that’s also a huge challenge for every young artist who is part of this industry. Then 7 years ago from working too hard and from being emotionally exhausted and burnt out, I wasn’t able to play for over a year and faced the possibility of never playing again because my hands were really acting up and nobody really knew what was wrong. But again I found my way out through my love of music, and I think that allowed me to come out of that huge crisis. In order to come out of that crisis, I had to rekindle my relationship with the guitar, to rediscover the love that I felt, and the purity of that love for music, and why I did what I did. And I think by doing my best and by achieving this sort of success, that I was perhaps trying to prove something to the industry, to people, to everyone around me. That really chipped away at that purity of connection I had with music when I was younger, and I think I had to rediscover that. The injury to my hand was a catalyst for that rediscovery.

The pandemic was of course a huge challenge for everyone because I think it also allowed everyone to re-evaluate, and to understand that what we do [as musicians] is a huge blessing and a huge privilege, and we do it because we love it. There are maybe 100 other things we could have done, but we chose to be musicians. That realisation in itself is incredible, and it was so formative for me personally, now I finally feel, through all those challenges of my life, my career and my musicianship, that my relationship with guitar is finally complete.

Which particular works/composers do you think you perform best?

I have been, shall I say, blessed with a very vivid imagination and ever since I was a child, whenever I heard or played something, I always created pictures and visual images in my mind. So anything that is very programmatic, very exciting and emotional, usually allows me to express myself in this open, free and honest way. So I find great inspiration in modern works, especially those written especially for me because when I work with composers I think that they pick up on that idea. The Guitar Concerto that Joby Talbot wrote for me at the Proms a couple of years ago is an example of that – a sort of programmatic Ink Dark Moon, as he called it.

https://youtu.be/gDqNkdYfOJw

Then some modern contemporary compositions written by guitar players who really know the instrument and what it can achieve and create, a sort of drama in sound, and inspire an audience – I love those because they allow me to have direct access to each and every person in the audience. That has been great – pieces like Coimbra or works by Leo Brouwer. Even when I think of Villa Lobos and the strength of his writing for the guitar, it’s just something that I enjoy tremendously.

But equally, I enjoy the opposite of that energy in the music of Bach, because I think in Bach everybody can find themselves. Bach is a mirror of our personality and our musicianship; it’s the beginning and the end. We go on so many musical journeys and always come back to Bach, and the purity and perfection that his music offers. When I perform Bach I really feel that is when I arrive and achieve the deepest levels of exploration and of my musicianship.

What do you do off stage that provides inspiration on stage?

I love to live a very varied life. I love being surrounded by people from different walks of life. I like to be inspired by talking to artists in different fields, to writers and philosophers, to business people, to people who do regular jobs. I often look at the barista who makes my favourite coffee at the café near to where I live and I just think whenever you do something with love, you are really giving something beautiful to the world, and it doesn’t really matter what you are doing. So I’m inspired by all those small and big things, and all the people and influences that I have in my life. So creating experiences with them brings me inspiration. It gives me space when I am inside my music to allow the music to really “live” in its full capacity. I’ve always felt that when you are too focussed on just one thing and exclude other things, then the pressure on what you’re doing is too great. And you create this fake ideal of responsibility, that in the end only damages the free flow of your music making. I’ve been very lucky to understand this through the challenges of my career and I’m very grateful for that.

When it comes to things that I like to do, I walk everywhere and I love travelling, without going to give a concert. So sometimes I just take a train and go down to Paris in the morning and leave in the evening, and I just breathe in a different city, different culture, different food, different smells. I read a lot. I write quite a bit and I’m so inspired by that because it clarifies my thoughts. And anything to do with the hands: I’m very good at cooking. Being curious and discovering new things – that really keeps me sane.

How do you make your repertoire choices from season to season?

Somehow from the beginning, my career was connected with recording because at the same time I started touring, I signed a major record label contract. So for every album that’s released, comes a different angle and a different theme for the repertoire that I’m recording. My recital programmes very often reflect that because it’s so important to tour at a time when the album comes out. So, from season to season, I make decisions very closely based on whatever I am doing in the studio,

With concertos, there aren’t so many concertos in the guitar repertoire, so in my fingers I always have the Rodrigo Concierto de Aranjuez, and a couple of others. But every season or two I made it my mission to collaborate with composers and to do a different premiere. Focussing on the repertoire for guitar and orchestra in particular, because of the lack of really well known repertoire for guitar and orchestra, has from the beginning been my mission and something that I took very, very seriously. With each season I set up these goals very clearly.

When it comes to chamber music, I wish I had more time to do more interesting projects in chamber music, but whenever I do them, I do them for all the right reasons, with a composer or musicians that I love, or someone who is very a close friend and whose musicianship I admire. It just gives you a chance to really connect on so many different levels and that has been in the case in the last couple of years, with dear colleagues. Festivals in the summer are a great opportunity for this kind of sharing and I always look forward to that. In the summer I think I am most flexible in my repertoire choices because summer festivals often give you an opportunity to have a couple of days to really work on things and really challenge yourself.

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

Over the years I have experienced so many concert halls, and they are not always amazing, but when they are, it’s incredibly inspirational and it really changes how you play. Especially with an instrument like guitar, which by default is quite intimate, when you are getting that feedback from the room and when the wooden box that the guitar is extends to the hall and becomes another soundbox that just envelopes the sound in the room with so many people; it’s just an incredible feeling.

If I think of the venues that have given me most inspiration when I perform solo, I would say that the Wigmore Hall does have a very magical acoustic when it comes to the guitar; also the small hall at the Concertgebouw, and there are couple of beautiful places in America that are perhaps not so well known. In Japan, every second concert hall is extraordinary. But with the big halls, I have often experienced places where I just couldn’t believe it was possible to play a concerto without amplification, or where I would play a recital to an audience of 2500 people, but possible to hear the smallest sound. What really stands out for me in this way is the Symphony Hall in Osaka. It’s just such a privilege to go from one place to another and take in the energy of the room and really transfer it to the audience through your instrument and your musicianship.

What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?

This is a big one. I feel that there is a real misconception when it comes to classical music. We have this label of being elitist and exclusive, and at the same time we live in a world where buying a Chanel bag for thousands of pounds, or everyone wanting to on holiday to the Maldives and everyone feeling that they deserve it, has, on one hand, become acceptable and not elitist. And on the other hand, going to a classical music concert, especially in the UK where ticket prices are lower than in Europe or America, is somehow considered elitist.

There have been so many efforts to make classical music more relevant and I think some of those have been remarkably successful when it comes to equal opportunities, diversity and inclusion, but at the same time I feel that there have been so many attempts to bring classical music closer by actually going away from what it really is and putting the centuries of tradition, excellence and effort in the background. I think reformulating those values and what they represent is incredible opportunity for all of us to really allow classical music to continue to exist as a part of the whole ecosystem and to not carry that exclusive label. People don’t even really know what that means any more, but it has become almost like the subtitle for classical music. And that’s something where I feel we have a huge responsibility to make a difference, in this crazy world that we live in that is overpowering us with too much information, where we are constantly manipulated on social media, and all media in general, to follow one bandwagon of thought and completely cancel the others. I think people today are so confused and it’s never been more important to actually present something that is so deep and excellent, and there for all the right reasons and all the right values [as classical music]. Because in all that confusion, what people crave is a profound connection, and there is no artform on the planet that is able to do this in a more direct or more instant way than classical music – or music in general.

What is your most memorable concert experience?

I have to say that the first time I performed at the Royal Albert Hall was probably the stand out moment of my whole life. I was playing a solo recital in the round to a completely full hall, pieces from Bach all the way to the romantic guitar repertoire in the purest, most classical form, and at that time there were a lot of sceptics, people who didn’t think a solo guitar recital was possible because it hadn’t been done before. That really was the moment that made my life and career, because it was extraordinary to shrink that great space of Albert Hall into such a small, pinpointed place with just me and the guitar. The energy and the feeling that experience gave me really gave me the wings to fly and to believe that nothing is impossible.

That is the single most memorable concert experience I had, and every subsequent concert performance at the Royal Albert Hall in recital or in a concert has been built on that experience. I did a concert there on 1 June, just after the pandemic, and it was a major moment for me because it was the return of the audience and I was very nervous to see if people would come, and if everything would feel good again. And it did; it was just remarkable to see so many people and to once again share with them this thing that 10 years ago broke certain boundaries and that now, after the pandemic and 10 years later, I was able to do the same thing on different foundations, perhaps in a more grown up way.

What advice would you give to young/aspiring musicians?

The one thing I always say to young musicians is never compare yourself to anyone else. Always know that your voice is unique and that there is nobody in this world who can play the guitar, or piano or violin, or sing like you can. And once you understand that, you start to seek the best of the version of yourself rather than look to be better than someone whom you admire or who is artificially imposed on you as some sort of competition. I think that advice cancels all the negative energy and inspires you at once to achieve success through finding your deepest and purest and most honest self. That is the most important advice that I can give to anybody and I always try do this whenever I have the opportunity.

What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about which you think we should be?

I feel that we live in a world where our society and our industries have never been more open and inclusive, and we have really progressed so far in that. And of course there is still work to be done and we have to continue on the right path. But what I feel is not being talked about in the music industry is the idea that musicians are not some sort of extra-terrestrial fairy creatures. I think my experience with injury and having to deal with that in secret, even though I tried not to make it a secret (I thought that by talking about it, I would actually create an open conversation and save a lot of musicians from future injury) was to realise that it remained taboo, and that was extraordinary to think about. At times almost it felt as if talking about was somehow making me weaker; luckily I didn’t suffer from thinking that was the case, but it was just a realisation that there isn’t enough talk or conversation about what it really means, in practical terms, to be a musician. What it means to be able to perform such an extraordinary thing, every time you’re on stage to work at this level, which is almost superhuman, while at the same time you might be incredibly jet-lagged or tired, and then you push your body and when your body is not happy, then you hurt yourself. In the sports world, and other industries, the conversation about this is such much more open. If we could create a conversation about this topic it would be much, much easier for future generations of musicians to protect themselves and to have concrete tools through the experience of colleagues to safeguard themselves from injury. I know that so many orchestral musicians are silently suffering. I know many professional soloists at the highest level are silently suffering from these issues, simply because being a musician is physically incredibly exhausting and when something is also emotionally so challenging, then it can create such an imbalance and can be very, very hard. So many people have left the industry because of this, because there hasn’t been an open conversation. I feel there has been a lot of talk about mental health and I think that’s incredibly helpful as long as it doesn’t go to an extreme. But I think that if we talked more about concrete issues that go hand in hand with mental health, such as physical injury, then we would be creating an atmosphere of greater inclusion and support, that I don’t really feel exists right now.

As a musician, what is your definition of success?

A very important question to ask every musician, because we all work in different ways and we all get a kick from different things. I feel that as you progress in your life, into adulthood, the driving force behind your success changes a lot. It hasn’t been any different for me. I decided to be a musician because of this incredible love and connection which I had with the guitar, and then what drove my success was to reach out to a very wide audience, and that meant everything to me because my happiness and my music making depended on that. I’ve always felt that music only comes alive when you are in front of an audience, so I wanted to have an audience and that drove my need for success.

When I reached that level, I wanted to prove success through how many concerts I was playing, which orchestras I played with, how important and relevant I was in the classical music world because as a guitarist that was very important. I was carrying the flag for the instrument, and I took that very, very seriously. Then after the pandemic, and all the problems I had with my hand, I completely redefined what success means for me. For me now success means finding that deepest and purest connection in my music making: playing concerts and playing for people and each time having an opportunity, without any unnecessary ‘noise’ around me, without the pressures of the industry and the environment in which we exist as international concert artists, each and every time to enjoy this extraordinary privilege of talking to people all around the world through the language of music. If I am able to do that for many years to come, then I feel I have achieved the biggest success that I possibly can.

MILOŠ performs Rodriguez’s Concierto de Aranjuez with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, at London’s Royal Festival Hall on Friday 13 January. The programme also includes the world premiere of ‘The Peacock Pavane’, written especially for MILOŠ by David Bruce. Details/tickets

MILOŠ is signed exclusively to Sony Classical and his debut recording for the label is expected later this year.

MILOŠ is one of the world’s most celebrated classical guitarists. His career began its meteoric rise in 2011, with the release of his international best-selling Deutsche Grammophon debut album ‘Mediterraneo’. Since then, he has earned legions of fans, awards, and acclaim around the world through his extensive touring, six chart topping recordings and television appearances.

Now exclusive to SONY Classical, MILOŠ is committed to expanding the repertoire for the classical guitar through commissioning of new works. His latest release ‘The Moon and the Forest’ features two world premiere concertos, by Howard Shore and Joby Talbot. His new solo album is due for a released in 2023 and will explore the theme of baroque and its guitar repertoire treasures.

“I can’t make music without sharing” – House Concert by Igor Levit

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | November 14, 2022

On 12 March 2020, pianist Igor Levit tweeted the following:

Empty concert halls. The idea of listening to and experiencing music together is gone – for now. It’s necessary, yet so sad. But it’s ok. Still: I’d like to continue sharing music with you. Listening. Experiencing. Whatever works. So I’m going to try something: private concerts.

— Igor Levit (@igorpianist) March 12, 2020

You’re the audience. Starting today, 7pm EST, I’ll play something for you from my home, here on twitter. Which repertoire? I’ve got no idea yet. We’ll see. It’s an experiment. Social Media House Concert until we meet again to do this in real life. So: tonight, 7pm.

— Igor Levit (@igorpianist) March 12, 2020

He then rushed out of his flat to purchase a cheap camera stand, returned home, then realised he also needed a stand for his phone, so he slipped out again. A friend was co-opted to help ensure the livestream was working. At 7pm Berlin time, Igor Levit gave his first livestreamed “haus konzert”.

Two days before, on 10 March, his birthday, Levit gave a concert in Hamburg; the next, in Cologne, the following day was cancelled, and it was now clear that live music, and similar activities, were being shut down, who knew for how long, in response to the global coronavirus pandemic.

Levit gave 52 house concerts via Twitter, dressed casually and livestreamed from his flat, its minimalist decor interrupted only by the shiny grand piano and a striking painting on the wall behind. It became a nightly ritual, for pianist and audience. He performed whatever repertoire “felt right” – from Beethoven to Morton Feldman, Nina Simone to Schubert and Bach; it didn’t matter, for these performances were about being together when we were isolated in lockdown. Hundreds of thousands of people tuned in via Twitter every night and the livestream feed was crammed with comments, compliments, emojis; there was a potent sense of a shared experience, even though we were all listening on our own, separated by lockdown, yet together. Spontaneous and unplanned, these house concerts helped to alleviate Levit’s – and others’ – lockdown despair and isolation, a means of keeping live music going when it was unclear when we would be allowed back into the concert halls to enjoy live music again, together. The Observer chose Levit’s online recitals as number one in its top ten classical picks for 2020.

From a pragmatic point of view, the house concerts were also an incentive for Levit to keep practising, an impulse shared by so many musicians whose performing careers stopped dead in March 2020. Like many of his musician colleagues, in the months before the covid lockdowns of 2020 and 2021, Levit was enjoying a busy career: without concerts, what was the point of practising?

Igor Levit performing in his Berlin flat during lockdown

Igor Levit’s new book ‘House Concert’ (published in the UK by Polity press in November) is about these Twitter concerts – the musician’s need to play, to express oneself through music, and the experience of playing in isolation to an unseen audiences of tens or even hundreds of thousands – but it’s about much more than this too.

Organised in a series of conversations and diary-type entries between Levit and German journalist Florian Zinnecker, ‘House Concert’ explores what it is to be a professional musician in the 21st century, and charts Levit’s career from an unknown young pianist to an internationally-acclaimed performer who plays to sold out houses around the world. It’s about the development of an artist; what it means to “be” a pianist and the need to perform, to share one’s music with others; the role and power of social media, in particular Twitter; the classical music industry; and wider issues of whether it is appropriate for an artist to engage in politics and other pertinent issues of our time – the pandemic, racism, climate change.

Levit’s path to international fame was not an easy one. As anyone who has attended one of his concerts will know, he is an uncompromising player who has a remarkable ability to create an intensity of sound and concentrated emotion when he performs (Alex Ross of The New Yorker describes him as “a pianist like no other”). His choice of repertoire may be considered “narrow” by some: eschewing the big showpieces or “top of the pops” of the pianist’s repertoire, he has instead chosen to focus on a handful of composers, recording and performing the complete piano sonatas of Beethoven, Bach’s Goldberg Variations, and Rzewski’s mighty ‘The People United Will Never Be Defeated’, together with lesser-known works by Busoni, Reger and Ronald Stevenson. As a young pianist at the start of his career, his uncompromising attitude and refusal to “play to the gallery”, as it were, to satisfy the whims of the market by including the popular classics in his programmes, meant that he was overlooked by artist managers and agents who felt he was not sufficiently marketable. This section of the book offers some really fascinating, honest and sometimes brutal insights into the workings and attitudes of the classical music “industry” today – where marketability is placed above artistic integrity. Levit didn’t fit the image that record companies were looking for and he was not willing to compromise; as a consequence it was a long time before he was picked up by a manager who was sufficiently sympathetic to his way of doing things. (An indication of how the industry reacts to the maverick, when Levit recorded Beethoven’s last five piano sonatas for his debut disc, there were more than a few mutterings that he was too young, that it was an impertinence that he should record these works at his age. It was a risk, but it was a worthwhile one: as anyone who has heard Levit perform late Beethoven knows, he is a master in this repertoire.)

The Twitter concerts throw an interesting light on the ecosystem of the classical music business and the power structures within in. In his house concerts, Levit demonstrated that it was possible to reach an audience directly via social media, without the usual tools of the business – marketing, publicity, staging. The simplicity of the Twitter concerts made them special – and for Levit they made him feel strong, that he wasn’t a fake.

For the pianist, Levit makes some challenging assertions regarding interpretation, context and the over-intellectualisation of music and its performance. He eschews the notion that music must have “meaning” or a distinct narrative, or that there is a “right way” to play it, and feels it is “just there to be experienced”. He sees the role of the musician as an “enabler”, one who brings the music to life from the page by making the piece his own.

“I’m telling my own story…the one that’s closest to my heart. The information about what happened to this piece one hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago isn’t really my business.”
Igor Levit

In the realm of classical music, with all its conventions and tradition, where fidelity to the score and an appreciation of the context in which the music is written is regarded as essential to any “authentic” performance, Levit bucks the trend. Because he’s not interested in tradition or convention; for him it’s all about the music. He’s not interested in whether in his performances of Beethoven we hear the sound of Beethoven. For him, “it’s Beethoven, of course, but played by me.”

A keen activist, the book also explores Levit’s vocal opposition to German right-wing attitudes to immigration, anti-Semitism and online hate crime, and his advocacy for environmentalism, the plight of Syrian refugees. He’s received abuse and even death threats for his views but he refuses to submit to “artistic neutrality”. Does he believe music can make a difference, shift attitudes and effect change? Absolutely not: “If you believe music will make fascists less fascist, then you’re just naive” – and for this reason his music and his activism are kept largely separate, though his large social media following and reputation undoubtedly serves his activism.

This absorbing and highly readable book is neither diary nor straightforward artist biography. It shifts back and forth between periods in Levit’s life, from student days, to now, and explores a variety of themes, not all of them musical. It not only showcases the remarkable achievements of a charismatic classical musician, it also reveals their anxieties and doubts, strengths and weaknesses, and offers an important snapshot of the difficulties faced by professional musicians in a highly competitive industry riven with convention, power structures and tradition. The success of Levit’s house concerts – and similar livestream projects from other musicians all around the world – perhaps prove that the industry does not necessarily need all the trappings of “the business” to communicate and share the power and joy of music with others.

‘House Concert’ is published by Polity books (November 2022). Further information here

“what would great music be without challenges?” – pianist Beth Levin in conversation

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | October 3, 2022

American pianist Beth Levin in conversation with Max Derrickson on her upcoming recital programme at Merkin Hall, New York, and new recording of Liszt and Mussorgsky.

[MD]: It’s a pleasure to have the chance to talk with you, Beth! Thank you. You’re a well-known concert pianist with an extremely impressive career. Particularly, your musical heritage with some of the most famous pianists on the 20th Century as your teachers (Marian Filar, Leonard Shure and Rudolph Serkin) could be plenty enough for an interview. But if you’ll allow, let’s focus on a specific recital and recording that you are recently doing (in 2022), which includes two very important, and extremely difficult, piano works: Liszt’s Sonata in B minor and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Anyone familiar with these works likely knows that they are “bears” to perform – technically, and no less so, musically. And you decided to perform both on one program. Would you talk about your choice of performing these two virtuosic works together?

[BL]: Thank you, Max. Lovely to explore the works with you! I think that the Liszt Sonata was really new territory for me and that appealed to me. I had learned the Mussorgsky many years ago and am just now revisiting it. The juxtaposition of the new and the old felt right. Let me say that I’ll be opening the recital with Portrait Miniatures: Three Women by Andrew Rudin which is very much a modern work and a wonderful departure point for the rest of the program. Friends had been urging me to play the Liszt Sonata for quite some time and up to now I resisted it. Suddenly the time seemed right to open the music. From the first read-through I was utterly and completely hooked. Playing through Pictures had more of a nostalgic feel and a reminder in some ways of my Russian/Ukrainian roots (my grandparents on both sides are from Odessa). The music elicits reactions from me as a musician – timing, color, character – that surprise me and I hope will translate to the listeners.

In terms of the pieces being difficult, I never like to admit to it. I play for weeks before I realize that I had really better isolate and practice those octaves!

I recorded the pieces this summer and that was a marvelous education into the music and into the preparation behind the performances.

[MD]: Roots in Odessa! Odessa’s like the breadbasket of the world of music! But we can return to that momentarily, as well as to the recording you made this summer. But before we get there:

Your programs are always, for me, so challenging and thoughtful… and brave. I have you to thank, actually, for introducing me to Andrew Rudin’s excellent and modern music. It’s intriguing to me that you’re beginning with his three Portraits. Each are under three minutes long, and I gather that they each have a sort of inside joke to them – for example, his dedication of the second portrait to Rose Moss was written for her as a parting gift to her after a summer at the MacDowell artist’s retreat in New Hampshire – and titled To a Wild Moss Rose, which plays (pun-fully and musically) on one of Edward MacDowell’s most famous piano miniatures, To a Wild Rose (Edward, of course, the founder of the MacDowell retreat). How do you see Rudin’s miniatures as departure points to Liszt and Mussorgsky? And, can you say more about your history with this fine composer’s music?

[BL]: Originally, I planned to play Andrew’s work in between the Liszt and the Mussorgsky, and he laughed and said he didn’t mind being sandwiched in the middle of two giants.

But I think starting with Portraits makes more sense. They can be likened a bit to the portraits that Mussorgsky paints in Pictures. And I like that the program will begin here and now and work its way back in time which will give the program a path to follow. The Liszt by itself is a vast arc and so the pieces will be arcs within arcs. I simply want the audience to come on the adventure with me.

I have played and recorded Andrew Rudin’s work over the years and am very honored that his piano sonata was written for me.

[MD]: I really like the arc idea in your programming here – it sounds like a fun adventure! Regarding the Rudin Portraits, I admire that you are adding this contemporary piece to fit in with Liszt and Mussorgsky on your recital at Merkin Hall in October (2022). You also added a contemporary piece on your last CD, playing Carosello: Disegno per piano No 3 (2005) by Swedish composer Anders Eliasson, in between Handel and then Beethoven’s colossal Hammerklavier Sonata. Do you have a particular philosophy about performing new music? Also, do you have a particular model, or philosophy, about choosing programs?

[BL]: Sometimes it’s as simple as working on a piece such as the Hammerklavier or the Liszt Sonata and wanting to experience something utterly different. The Rudin for instance is a lovely change from the Liszt when one is practicing and I think it may work that way for listeners as well. The pieces take over your life for a while and it’s good if you love the music you are working on. A program has to feel right and get one excited – but I’m not sure that I have a philosophy about choosing one.

Finally, I really enjoy playing the works of friends – scores that arrive in the mail and are fresh and newly printed, a reminder of when the Liszt and the Mussorgsky were just written.

[MD]: I can completely understand about a piece of music taking over! And so, your method of balancing that out is to play something entirely different. But importantly, I think, as you said, the three short Rudin pieces are a wonderful balance to the weightiness of the rest of your program for your concert audience.

I can imagine your glee over getting fresh copy in the mail… there’s something really very delightful about that. Opening the package, feeling the score, first glances and first impressions, and all that wonderful stuff. Do you recall your first impressions of Pictures at an Exhibition? Of Liszt’s Sonata?

[BL]: I do remember opening the score to the Liszt Sonata in January and feeling many emotions at once. It was as if the whole work had been in the back of my mind for years just waiting to move to the center.

I had to talk to a close musical friend about it and I remember making immediate plans to play it. I had never performed much of his piano music and barely knew anything about the sonata. But I was instantly committed to learning it.

Pictures at an Exhibition had been sitting on my shelf for years – I went to it mainly questioning how it would feel to work on it again.

I’m surprised at how differently I seem to be approaching the portraits. A kind friend who has heard both versions said he thought I was taking more time now and going deeper into the character.

With both the Liszt and the Mussorgsky there is the chance to explore so many artistic facets and create a musical world. But some days I just stare at all the octave passages and technical high jinks! haha.

[MD]: Looking at the score of the Liszt, and seeing those technical high jinks, some might faint, I think! Perhaps in another interview, we can talk more about relationships with pieces of music – they become such a part of the performer’s life at a certain time – the performer devotes so much heart and psyche to a work, and the score becomes a sort of whiteboard for notes and suggestions, and a reflection of our relationship to the music. Life can get tangled up in a piece of music. We can explore some of that, too, when we talk more about your revisiting Mussorgsky.

In the meantime, though, considering those challenging parts of any piece of music, how do you approach conquering them? What’s a typical practice/routine response for you? How have you been tackling the Liszt?

[BL]: The desire to simply play is so strong perhaps because of the extreme expressiveness of the Liszt Sonata. I start out playing a page or so extremely slowly but then the musical sweep takes over and I just have to ride the waves. But in many passages first I practice slowly, evenly, and within a strict context. Speed often comes on its own – you can’t really push. In the octaves I worked out the shapes inherent in the writing and those also seemed to come at their own pace.

I worked on the Liszt this morning and it was just that combination of how I will ultimately perform the work with a few moments of “Whoa Nellie!”

Having the recording as a deadline was very helpful, I think. Playing for friends was crucial as well – their suggestions and the mere act of playing through.

[MD]: I think Liszt would have appreciated hearing some “Whoa Nellies!” along the line. And … I can only imagine how delightful it must be to be the friend who gets to listen to your putting one of these masterpieces together.

Some deeper specifics about the Liszt: Liszt dedicated his Sonata to Robert Schumann as a thank you in reciprocation for Schumann’s dedication of his solo piano work Fantasie in C major, Op. 17 (1839) to Liszt. Liszt completed his Sonata in B minor (in 1853-4), however, after Schumann had been committed to a mental asylum following his attempted suicide. It thus arrived at the Schumann household sans Robert, and finding Clara Schumann and Johannes Brahms, both virtuoso pianists. As Brahms played through Liszt’s Sonata for Clara, she famously found it rather awful, lamenting that she had “to thank him for that!” – but we should report that it didn’t take long for the Sonata to find its place as one of the great, and one of the most unique, solo piano works of the 19th Century. Nonetheless, it’s considered a thorny piece in several regards. Besides its technical challenges, another of those thorns is its rather difficult-to-categorize, some say genius, hybridization of structural form – somewhere between a true Classical sonata and a Liszt-ian tone poem. How do you approach this structural uniqueness/ambiguity? Does the arc of the piece let the Sonata dictate its own path?

[BL]: I lean more to the idea of the work as a tone poem and yet I can see how he structured it as a sonata within a sonata. The “Andante sostenuto” can be read as the slow movement. Apparently, Liszt said very little about the new form of his Sonata but it certainly influenced composers far into the future. His exquisite themes flow so perfectly and inevitably into one another that you almost feel like he’s taking your hand and saying “just follow me.” I think one can be very free and expressive in one’s interpretation exactly because the structure is so solid. I know that he transcribed Schubert’s Wanderer Fantasy for piano and orchestra and may have been very influenced by that same idea of freedom and fantasy within four movements … sort of a Garden of Eden within marble walls.

[MD]: I really do love your description … and it makes sense to me, that Liszt sort of left the mystery out of the mix…. clever and again by half…. yet his Sonata carries you along the way, whatever the overall form is. The Garden of Eden within marble walls is a lovely metaphor. I think, too, that inside the Garden also lives a serpent…

About Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition: You mentioned above that your “grandparents on both sides are from Odessa.” We won’t confuse Ukraine with Russia, though to be sure, there are connections. Nonetheless, did you feel, and, or do you feel now, that you “hear” the Mussorgsky a little more deeply? And were your grandparents musicians, may I ask?

[BL]: Do you mean was there something in the borscht that gives me the inside track into Pictures at an Exhibition?

Seriously, I know that my parents grew up in households where everyone either played the violin, sang or played the piano. Music was a strong element in the lives of my parents and grandparents. But I realize that doesn’t make me an expert on Mussorgsky. I do feel certain instincts for Pictures and I try to be careful about assuming that every instinct is a correct one. I do employ rubato, color, timing and phrasing in ways that I think match and enhance the music and I hope that others will enjoy my interpretation.

[MD]: I think borscht can do a lot of things… but I appreciate the wisdom, and humility, regarding your instincts. Mussorgsky feels, to me, powerful and raw and immensely musical. And so, I’m not sure that one can get too far afield from his intentions once immersed in a performance, do you know what I mean?

About the piano version: I (and probably most listeners) have been mesmerized by Pictures since I first heard them … first in Ravel’s orchestral version. It was surprising to me, when I first heard the original piano version, how exceptionally well they still sound without all the bells and colors of an orchestra. The music is extremely hardy!

Now that you’ve been close to the piano version twice around, do you think Mussorgsky had an orchestration in mind when he was writing Pictures – or do you feel he was truly thinking of the colors of the piano? Are there any really favorite moments for you?

[BL]: A bit of background: one of Modest Mussorgsky’s best friends was Viktor Hartmann, an artist who tragically died of an aneurism in 1873 at the age of 39. Two weeks after Hartmann’s death his friends and supporters organized a major exhibition of his works at the Imperial Academy of Arts in St. Petersburg. About a year later Mussorgsky composed Pictures at an Exhibition. Completed in only twenty days, Pictures was originally a set of short pieces for piano in which Mussorgsky depicted himself walking through the exhibition and contemplating Hartmann’s works.

I think Mussorgsky was writing a piano piece – period. He was thinking of the piano as an orchestra at times – complete with bells. But I don’t think he was thinking of orchestration. He knew that the piano is a great chameleon and can recreate almost any vision.

One of my favorite “pictures” is “Il Vecchio Castello”” based on an architectural sketch by Hartmann. The melody is so expressive and the rhythmic underpinning so graceful. Also, I appreciate the way that each “Promenade” is so different from one another. “Tuileries” was inspired by a now lost crayon drawing of the Tuileries Gardens in Paris. It is so delicate and I love playing it. “The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” is another favorite – my only desire is not to leave too many feathers on the ground!

The weightier movements such as “Gnome” or “Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuyle” require the power of a huge sound. I enjoy how Mussorgsky will contrast heaviness with something frothy in the following piece – from an oxcart to a tulle tutu.

A favorite arrival point for me is the “Sepulcrum Romanium Catacombs.” After much activity this piece is slow, austere and as cavernous as a tomb. It may have been an expression of Mussorgsky’s feeling of loss for his friend Hartmann. The music is exhaled in long breaths and marks the point at which “Baba Yaga” and “The Great Gate of Kiev” take over and end the work.

[MD]: When one hears a fine performance of this work, I think it’s easy to hear that Mussorgsky was treating the piano like an orchestra at times – which serves to remind us of the extraordinary talent and intellect that Mussorgsky possessed.

I love your image of stray notes falling off the keyboard like little chick feathers! And I think it illustrates part of the work’s true genius – it’s ability to evoke emotions and images. Each “picture” is a little masterpiece. “The Old Castle”… what a beautifully expressive tune. And I completely agree that the balancing of heavy and light, the pacing, and the overall direction of Pictures is really a masterful compositional achievement.

There are, as we know, only a few of Hartmann’s artworks left to see from that exhibition. And only several of the one’s that Mussorgsky immortalized still exist. I think I’d really love to see the Polish Oxcart and The Old Castle. Which would you really love to see? And do you think seeing them would inform your performance differently?

And… do you ever get lost in there… in the Exhibition? That you just want to linger a little while longer at a particular “picture”?

[BL]: I’d also love to see the Polish Oxcart and The Old Castle. Not seeing the images isn’t necessarily a bad thing and can allow your own imagination to flourish. It reminds me of haiku – better to simply let the words paint a picture … in this case let the music describe the art. Mussorgsky’s great skill as you said becomes so apparent exactly because he is a master at bringing Hartmann’s portraits to life. I think he even goes beyond that and creates an aura, a world in which the art can exist.

I think that I do linger here and there in the music when it seems right. I would love the audience to get lost inside the music.

[MD]: Are there any “pictures” that you find particularly daunting to play?

[BL]: The final two, “The Hut of the Baba Yaga” and “The Great Gate of Kiev” have a few thorny places and they occur in great speed. Speed often magnifies difficulty but what would great music be without challenges?

[MD]: I completely agree with your assessment about Mussorgsky creating a world beyond the art – thinking of the “Unhatched Chicks,” for example … in Mussorgsky’s wildly wonderful music for that, it rather looks as though Hartmann’s illustration was created secondly, for the music, not the other way around.

Regarding the challenges of the last two “pictures,” now I’m feeling a little guilty … I think you mentioned that you never like to admit something is difficult … did I just trick you into that?

But speaking of challenges, what about the Liszt Sonata? Are there any particular passages that you find really tough?

And, though the Sonata is a work that really shows off virtuosity, it also really shines with radiant poetry. Which passages do you find breath-taking?

[BL]: Haha – that’s what makes you a wonderful interviewer! No, I think that dwelling on technical issues such as virtuoso octaves can be insignificant.

The genuine task is to present the work as a whole, get inside it, portray what Liszt had in mind, and give a performance. If I miss a few notes or octaves, so be it – that pales in comparison to the actual fulfilment of the work. On the other hand, you need an expressive, flexible and physical technique, but more as a tool, not as an end all. That is probably true for any art. When I’m confronted with a few difficult passages I do laugh at myself knowing that they are merely reminders of imperfection on a path to art.

If I get swept away in the Sonata it is where the music melts into pianississimo. For all its grandeur, the poetic passages are truly the ravishing moments in the music. The final “Andante Sostenuto” is so moving and the final three chords are like a prayer.

I hope that the audience feels the emotion of the piece and that I simply express what is there.

[MD]: I hear you well on that, Maestra. I think we all have heard when a performance is flawless, technically, but at the cost of being soulless. I’ve never heard any of your performances suffer from that, Beth! And I guess the only thing I can respond to about those beautiful moments, and those last three, heart-stoppingly blissful chords is, “Amen.”

Before we start wrapping up our lovely conversation, could you tell us a little more about the recording session that you had for the Mussorgsky and Liszt? And do you know when the CD might be issued?

[BL]: I recorded with old friends Philip Valera (audio engineer) and Mark Peterson (producer) whom I knew at Boston University when I was studying with Leonard Shure and they were both budding organists. We had an easy rapport and were able to kid around when we weren’t doing the more serious work of recording Liszt and Mussorgsky. But I think that is so important when you begin a recording session – the ability to laugh creates a relaxed atmosphere for everyone. There were a few snags: the microphones were nowhere to be found when we first met at ten in the morning on a Wednesday in late May. And the weather in Wilson, North Carolina was extremely humid. The Steinway was freshly tuned but the piano keys were actually damp in Kennedy Hall at Barton College. Not to mention my hair!

I don’t yet have a release date for the recording by Aldilà Records. They produced my last CD of the Hammerklavier sonata, Handel and Anders Eliasson and I was so happy with their dedication to detail. Through the years I guess I’ve learned: if a conductor calls, call back. If a record label wants your mastered CD, just be grateful.

[MD]: The recording engineers that I’ve known are a band of very lovely, smart, laid-back and capable people… and funny. That has to help the recipe in cooking a recording! But … damp keys?? What on earth do you do about that? (Let’s not even touch the hair subject.)

Adilà Records has produced some really great recordings! I hope we see yours very, very soon.

Allow me, now, to pull way back, and ask you: you have a few years of an illustrious career informing your approach to performing – how might you characterize your playing of these great pieces today, in comparison to when you were, let’s say, in your twenties?

[BL]: I think that I rehearse differently now which affects performance – slower, more thoughtfully.

I have always tended to be a bit wild at the piano but after years of playing I have more control of things. Coaching with the conductor Christoph Schluren influenced my playing – as it relates to phrasing, mostly.

I think the wisdom from my teachers sort of synthesized for me at some point and now when I look at a score I bring to it more than I did.

I wish I could say, “I’m much smarter now.” Haha – I can only hope.

[MD]: It’s a wonderful realization to recognize your own personal musicianship as a monument to the other great musicians, friends and teachers who shared their talents in the service of the expression of art. Of course, their expertise is wrapped in the gold leaf of your great talents, too. Thanks for that beautiful sentiment, Beth.

And thank you for your time and generosity of soul that you’ve shared with me in this interview. Good luck with your recital, and I can’t wait to hear your CD!

[BL]: Thank you so much, Max, for your wise questions. I have enjoyed looking at aspects of the Liszt and the Mussorgsky with you as a guide!

Beth Levin performs Mussorgsky, Liszt and Rudin at Merkin Hall, New York, on 27 October. More information

“I’m the lucky one, who can bring the music alive – and this is the greatest joy” – a conversation with Maxim Vengerov

By The Cross-Eyed Pianist | July 18, 2022

Frances Wilson in conversation with Maxim Vengerov

I’ve admired world-renowned violinist Maxim Vengerov ever since I first heard him at the Proms in 1999, when he played a fabulous, varied programme which included Brahms’ Violin Sonata No 3, Rachmaninov’s Vocalise, Ravel’s Tzigane, and a selection of glittering concert showpieces, including a spellbinding performance of Waxman’s Carmen Fantasie. It was just him and pianist Vag Papian, on a special stage set up in the arena (promenading) area of the Royal Albert Hall, playing to a packed house.

In September this year he returns to the Albert Hall, for a special concert celebrating 40 years on stage – or rather 42 years on stage as this concert, originally scheduled for June 2020, was postponed because of the pandemic. In addition to a celebration of his remarkable performing career, it is, for him, also a celebration of his connection with British audiences. “I’ve been here from right at the start of my career. This is like my second home.” As well as giving many concerts in the UK, since 2016 Maxim Vengerov has been a visiting professor at London’s Royal College of Music.

London was also where he studied with Mstislav ‘Slava’ Rostropovich, an adored mentor and friend, whose name comes up frequently during our conversation.

“I have great memories with Slava, of visiting his home in Maida Vale. Without him I would be a different musician today. He opened my vision for music and he inspired me also to continue and to share music. Not just to be a performer, but to share it. That’s why I became a teacher at the age of 26. I always wanted to make space for teaching, in spite of my busy schedule.”

The two years of the pandemic and lockdowns, and the shutdown of live music, have had a profound impact on the lives of musicians, and for Vengerov, like many others, it was a time to reflect on the demands of the profession. With an empty concert diary, confined to his home with his family and parents-in-law, the first month of lockdown was an “amazing time with family. I’ve never stayed so long with my family…. But after a month, my elder daughter Lisa says, ‘Daddy, aren’t you going away?’. It was the biggest shock of my life! I realised that for my family, I was the father who was always travelling and sometimes coming back. Today it is different; despite my heavy schedule….in my family’s mind and my own, I am the father who is at home and sometimes on tour.”

During lockdown, Vengerov was keen to do something for other people. “It was horrific that we weren’t able to make music, and people weren’t able to listen.” So, as Artist in Residence at ClassicFM, he gathered together a trio and organised a livestreamed concert, an hour of live music, broadcast to some quarter of a million listeners worldwide. This inspired him to continue, to communicate to the world and to share his experience, this time via the medium of interactive online lessons. With the help of a brilliant tech team, he built a platform, created a website and held in excess of 150 free live online lessons with optimal sound and high-quality visuals. These remain in the archive of his website, available to all, while new material is regularly added.

Of this particular lockdown project he says “It was so traumatic to see so many people leaving the profession, but so understandable, because nobody cancelled paying mortgages or bills! But we needed to continue what we feel passionately about and we needed to give some hope. And I did that in my own little modest way.”

Now live music is back and audiences are thrilled to have concerts again “Every venue was full – Elbphilharmonie, Salzburg festival, Carnegie Hall, all amazing experiences! People were crying.”

With such a long performing career, how does he maintain the interest, the excitement and the inspiration? “I am never bored!” Vengerov replies immediately, and then goes on to illustrate this point further:

“How many things are involved in the process of making a concert? It requires great preparation, great delivery on stage, great spirit, great instrument [he plays a 1727 ‘Kreutzer’ Stradivari], great hall, acoustically – a wonderful acoustic together with my instrument is always a different experience because my instrument reacts differently to every concert hall and I always play differently in every hall. Then of course partners that I work with, chamber music…. And audiences…they don’t necessarily have to be educated, but they have to be open, and they have to be there for the right reasons, to discover music. And if you’re not in love with the composition you’re performing you should better not do it! There is not a moment when you can be bored….it’s pure enjoyment and pure challenge.”

Away from the concert stage, he draws inspiration from his family and friends, good food and socialising, playing tennis, and walks with his Shiba Inu dog, Toto. And of course the music.

Returning to his forthcoming London concert, we talk about the Shostakovich Violin Concerto, the centrepiece of this concert, and a work which he has played many, many times. The challenge here is keeping the music, and the performance, fresh, and once again the conversation turns back to Slava, and his advice to always play the work as if performing it for the very first time – or “perhaps the last time”. Deep knowledge of the music is important too, and this is where training to become a conductor has helped Vengerov gain crucial insights into the score which inform his performances and lend greater enjoyment and fulfilment. “Once you know the full score, it adds a new dimension to your performance. It’s no longer a violin piece with orchestral accompaniment… you can refer to one or another line in the orchestra and that’s where you draw your inspiration….The impact that the orchestra has on the soloist is vast. And if you’re not part of it, then it’s a different piece.”

The other major work in this concert is Beethoven’s Triple Concerto, for which Vengerov will be joined by cellist Mischa Maisky and pianist Simon Trpčeski. Too often regarded as a “party piece”, Vengerov asserts that the Triple Concerto is “a most profound work” that requires a very particular relationship between each member of the orchestra and the soloists. The orchestra in this instance is the Oxford Philharmonic, conducted by Marios Papadopoulos, with whom Vengerov has a long-standing association, having shared “so many wonderful things” during his residencies with them. “They are like family members.” Orchestra and soloists will also be joined by students from the RCM for a special arrangement of Sarasate’s Navarra, to celebrate the joy of music-making and music education.

How does it feel to play in such a large venue as the Royal Albert Hall, I ask him, and he replies that it’s important to make the venue “feel cosy”, regardless of its size. He tells me that he encourages students to “play to the last row” when performing at a hall like RAH, to encourage them to think less about volume of sound and more about projection and vibration.

It’s evident from our conversation that for Maxim Vengerov the ongoing pleasure comes from performing and sharing his music to impact people emotionally.

“At the age of 5 I didn’t understand why, but when I played in front of an audience, I understood. It gave it [the music] purpose. I’m the lucky one that can bring it alive – and this is the greatest joy.”

Maxim Vengerov celebrates 40 years on stage in a concert at the Royal Albert Hall, London, on 19^th September, with Mischa Maisky, Simon Trpčeski, the Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra and Marios Papadopoulos, and students from the Royal College of Music.

Find out more/tickets

This site is free to access and ad-free, and takes many hours to research, write, and maintain. If you find joy and value in what I do, please consider making a donation to support the continuance of this site

Image credit: Diego Mariotta Mendez/IDAGIO

The Cross-Eyed Pianist

interviews with musicians

At the Piano with Lorraine Augustine

“I tell myself and the choir that it has to reach the audience as if it were brand new each time” – Richard Cooke, conductor

“There are maybe 100 other things we could have done, but we chose to be musicians” – MILOŠ

“I can’t make music without sharing” – House Concert by Igor Levit

“what would great music be without challenges?” – pianist Beth Levin in conversation

“I’m the lucky one, who can bring the music alive – and this is the greatest joy” – a conversation with Maxim Vengerov

Social Media

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Blog Stats

DONATE

Share

Recent Posts

Blogroll

CONCERT VENUES

PIANO RESOURCES

Instagram