Today's music on BBC Radio 3

Almost every morning, one of the first things I do when I wake up is to put on BBC Radio 3. It's good for the children - for us too- to start our day with music. Though I must say that quite often the music played is not the best thing one would like to listen to; I cannot, for instance, bring myself to listen to opera arias or Wagner at 7 in the morning - it just seems insane, doesn't it?

It seems to me that the best music one can start one's day with is baroque possibly because there is a purity in the sound that helps one dissolve the dim and shadowy world of dreams and darkness and make a fresh start into the world of light and reality.
But today, I heard this beautiful Adagio from Spartacus, composed by Aram Khachaturian and, while listening, my memory went immediately to the latter's Piano Concerto - one of the very first piano concertos to penetrate my ears and heart.

It is a unique concerto, in the sense that it's a world on its own, it does not belong (melodically speaking) to any particular style or genre. The Second Movement (Andante con anima) is really sublime. The melody played (in unison) by the piano is heart-breaking, so beyond words and so full of ineffable, passionate feelings - it's really pointless to go on.
Here is a good performance - with Peter Katin and the LSO.



This was one of my favorite pieces of music when I was a radio producer, ages ago, I used to put it on often, and everyone loved it.

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I had a concert last Monday - with Spyros Souladakis - we played Hadjidakis and some of my own transcriptions of Spanoudakis's music. Also, Gershwin's Rsapsody in Blue. Went ok I think, around 70 people came. This coming Sunday, another small concert, this time with 2 flutes (Telemann, Vivaldi, Bach). We are not well prepared I think, but it seems that it will be a rather informal venue so I am trying not to get too stressed about the whole thing.

Frederic Chiu recordings of Prokofiev Piano Music

Frederic Chiu is, I think, the only pianist who has recorded the complete piano works of Sergei Prokofiev (Harmonia Mundi). I really cannot imagine what stamina, strenght and courage is required to carry out this huge project - and time of course. But the result is definitely succesful. I did not manage to hear all the works, but I did listen to the 2nd and 4th Sonatas, as well as Op.12 and 32. There is a distinct "Prokofievan" quality in Chiu's sound; he has captivated the complexity of Prokofiev's musical language very well: his sarcastic, often harsh and mocking tone, his clarity, tenderness, strength, and percussive sound.

Listening to this music, one realizes what an extraordinary composer Prokofiev was... He has inspired me probably more than any other composer I've ever "met". I seem to "understand" his music - and I am not sure I can explain that... Let me just say that there is music I simply cannot grasp: Scriabin, for instance, or Bartok. But with Prokofiev, everything makes sense to me..

Last night, I listened to his Op.12 again - Ten Pieces for piano. The Allemande I found amazingly bold, with a subtle dancing melodic "statement" that cannot be easily discerned but which, for that very reason, is quite unique. I actually decided to play that piece. The final Scherzo is unparalleled... (I've already played his "atmospheric" Legend, around 9 years ago).
Chiu's performance of these pieces is the best I' ve ever heard, I think. In particular, his Scherzo is really breathtaking!

Playing music in the background...

This was the first time, I think, that I played "officially" in the background. I was asked to play for a reception, while the guests were having their drinks. It was awkward in the beginning, to say the least! Being a concert-pianist, I wasn't used to playing withe no one to paying any attention! I also felt a bit lonely at times, having the impression that no link whatsoever was created between me and my audience. Apparently this was not true, as almost everyone in the end came to thank me - so I suppose they were listening!! Of course, I did not/would not play classical music; I played light music, Greek songs, movie themes, etc.

Today was the first cold Autumn day. I am so fond of this period of the year... There is a sweet melancholy in the air, there is a spirit of expectation for the coming year (despite the crisis!), and there is a silent anticipation of Christmas...

I think Tchaikovsky succeeded best in capturing this spirit of the Fall, in his "Months". These are 12 wonderful pieces, each one dedicated to a month of the year. Here is "October: Autumn Song", played by Alexei Sultanov, a Russian pianist who died after having suffered a stroke, at my age - 35.




Such a moving mixture of sweetness and sadness. A voice of desolation.

Prokofiev and various

Sergei Prokofiev is in my view one of the most interesting cases in the history of music. There is something fresh and original in his music, something truly unconventional; I was listening to his opus 32 (Four Pieces for Piano) and was amazed at the boldness and inventiveness of his musical writing. There is humor and sarcasm blended together with sentitiveness and tenderness.

I haven't written here for ages. The academic year began (September 24) with a nice solo recital at "Parnassos" concert hall which went well, except my Rachmaninoff (Moment Musical in E minor) which, for some reaons, was unsteady, with many wrong notes and a lack of character. It is the piece that I actually recorded in August, and I thought that this would be my best piece - yet the opposite happened! I really fail to understand sometimes what determines the "success" of a piece; one practices something for ages and ages and still the result is not satisfying.

I now plan for November another shared recital with my friend Spyros Souladakis, here at Holargos, where I live; this will be something different -Greek composers mostly, together with five of my transcriptions on Spanoudakis' music - the first time we'll play these in public.

A sweet Autumn day today, full of light and freshness.

Notes on a recording

A couple of weeks ago I made a recording of Rachmaninoff's Moment Musical in E Minor. I had played the piece a couple of times in the past and I always wanted to have a recorded version of it. It' s a hard piece, one that requires concentration and stamina to keep going till the end - the final explosion. This is typical early Rachmaninoff - the Moments Musicaux are, in my view, one of the best products of his youth. The E minor one is the best known piece of the set, and understandably so: apart from the technical bravura, one can discern a fine melodic line which never falls victim to the repetetitive structure of the piece. It is a desperately passionate melody, with a short lyric interlude around the middle, which expands till the last fff. I think the danger of this music is to play too loud too early; one must keep the sound well under control, otherwise the catastrophe is unavoidable!
As for the recording procedure. Of course, due to the video camera, no edit could be done - I had to play non-stop from the beggining to the end. I managed to perform the piece 4-5 times and it was pretty exhausting. We kept three takes and at a later stage, I decided which one was to be uploaded. The studio is one of the best in Athens and the Yamaha is well beyond average.

It was good fun! And the result is, I think, more or less, decent, although there are many annoying details... A few technical mistakes, and a general sense of sluggishness; is it not a bit boring too? But anyway, there we are, here it is and all comments are welcome!

Today's listening: Lugansky playing Brahms

Today’s listening: Nikolai Lugansky, a live recital given in August 2002. Brahms, Klavierstucke op. 118. Wonderful performance as ever, full of life, and within the spirit of the composer. Did not particularly warm to his rendering of the final intermezzo though – I found that there was something missing of the profound sadness and depth which penetrates this intensely personal moment of late Brahms.

I remember playing this particular Intermezzo (op.118 no 6) for my diploma exams, back in 1997. It was such a difficult thing to bring out the feeling of loneliness and desolation that is expressed in the melodic line. I played it then (cannot remember how it went) and never attempted to tackle it again. I think it’s one of these pieces that persuade me that the piano is undoubtedly the most difficult instrument of all. To bring out correctly the melody of op.118/6 from a massive ‘piece of furniture’ (I mean the piano) that faces you, seems to me enough to prove the statement.

on depression...

Well, it can be depressing…

Argerich’s performance of Schumann’s Kinderszenen (the piece I am working on currently) is so impossibly perfect, so unapproachably beautiful that one becomes depressed thinking of one’s own imperfectness, one’s hopeless distance from such an immaculate sound. It’s an odd feeling, similar to the one felt when reading the life of saints.

And this brings to my mind a novel I read ages ago: the title was “The Loser”, and it was written by the Austrian writer Thomas Bernhard. It’s the story of a pianist who, after hearing Glenn Gould playing, gave up the piano, and some years later, still crushed by the comparison between his playing and the great pianist’s, died while listening to Gould’s Goldberg Variations. It is not the happiest story (!), (and the narrative is a bit complicated), yet one can understand the principal idea – how profoundly wrong this feeling of depression-deriving-from-comparison can be.
…And yet, it’s only too natural to feel like that when persons from one’s own professional field do so much better than oneself! I think the challenge here is to try to transform this negative feeling into something positive; how can one do that? Well, I think one could begin by focusing on his/her own uniqueness. Every person is unique – and so is every smile, every gaze, every soul. The realization of our otherness is crucial; for it can enable us to see this very element in the other person too; so, yes, for instance, I will never be able to play Kinderszenen as well as Martha – no matter if I practice for hours and hours on end. But how sweet it is to rejoice at this great gift given to her by God, how sweet it is to rejoice for the gifts that are bestowed on my life – my talents, my own playing, my life, my family.
The aim, as I understand and feel it, is to be able to reach a point of heartful thankfulness to God for everything that occurs, for everyone that one may come across in life.

I write this in our summerhouse, in a village near Corinth, Greece. What ideal surroundings for such a beautiful piece of music - and a performance to match…