Israeli pianist Alon Kariv will play Chopin’s First Piano Concetto on Sunday, May 11 at London’s Cadogan Hall with the English Chamber Orchestra. Ahead of that performance, I met Alon to discuss all things piano, some previous notable performances and, of course, his relationship with Chopin.
Colin Clarke: Alon, it would be great to get a sort of summary, a sort of overview of your piano playing history to date. What age did you start? What age did you start winning competitions?
Alon Kariv: I began playing piano when I was five years old, and I was attracted to music in every possible way; even before that, I don’t remember, but that’s what I was told. When I was seven, I was taken to a more serious teacher, so my parents took me to a piano professor and asked, ‘What do we do with this kid’? So I started seriously at age seven, and the first competition I was in, I was 10. I won a competition in New York City in 2015; before that, I won a few Israeli piano competitions.
I went to an art high school [Thelma Yellin High School of Arts], at an extremely high level, in Israel. I also now teach there, which is great. And after that, I studied for two years at Juilliard in New York with Veda [Yoheved] Kaplinsky and Julian Martin. Before that, I studied here in Israel with Professor Tomer Lev, and after two years, I came back to Israel, and now I’m continuing my Master’s degree with Tomer Lev and Arie Vardy (Wikipedia) as well.
You’ve worked with Zubin Mehta? What did you work on and what did you learn from him?
Yes: It was a while ago, in Summer 2015, I played Chopin First Piano Concerto> he’s the best soloist accompanist, and I remember there was the end of the third movement of the Concerto. I was nervous because it’s a tricky part, in terms of togetherness. I looked at him and missed quite a few notes (in the rehearsal). And he stopped the enire rehearsal, and he looked at me and said ‘You do your thing, I’ll do mine’. And I just remember feeling so safe, and free. There’s a lot of rubato in Chopin, so you need to be very considerate, and I had the freedom to be spontaneous.
In terms of piano playing, what traits would you say are important to good piano playing?
It’s a petty complicated question. First of all, there is this stage presence that is needed. I’m not sure if it’s a skill or can be taught. You do need to have a good enough technique, obviously, and also you need to know how to read a musical text and to understand the composer’s intentions, and to be sensitive where you can put in your own approach and so stand behind you performance and believe in what you do. Another very important thing is to maintain cool onstage. To see things in a a light way: by which, I mean when you play a wrong note, or something happens with the orchestra, or you enter late or early, if you pass it through like a gentleman and don’t lose composure, it’s not that significant. But if you start beating yourself up onstage, then you are not in the moment any more.
Which pianists do you admire the most (both living and dead!)
In recent years, I have listened to a lot of Horowitz recordings. His virtuosity was such that no-one has seen before, but it’s his control of tone and colour, and time, which I find exceptional. Even in Mozart Sonatas, but in Scriabin he goes from 400,000 fortissimi to pianissimo in under a second without any preparation. That I find amazing; and everyone I talk to tells me it’s nothing close to seeing him on stage. From the dead ones, there’s Horowitz and definitely Rubinstein, which I can’t really explain why. Rubinstein is the King of Chopin. Everything is so natural and from the living ones,
I’m definitely a huge fan of Martha Argerich. The thing I appreciate most about her is that if you try to imitate her, it will sound absolutely terrible. I can recognise one of her performances from miles away; I also admire her stage presence, and who she is as a person. I have never talked to her, but I would pay a lot of money to have a coffee with her!
I’ve been sent footage of your recital at Basel’s Stadtcasino. Clarity seems to be a core aspect of your playing, something we certainly hear in the wonderful C minor Toccata from your recital (BWV 911). What are your thoughts on playing Bach on the piano? And also the imporance of clarity in piano playing generally?
I think Bach is probably one of the most difficult composers for me to play, but also the one that I probably feel the most a home with. And I think that in Bach’s music every genre s differet in approach. I definitely think the Well-Tempered Clavier is the most specific and clear do’s and don’ts on how to play a fugue. Once you play a theme, its destiny is doom, as András Schiff said in a masterclass. But I think that the Toccatas are probably the most “concert” pieces. If I could, I would start every concert with Bach. You can’t go wrong, It’s always a great beginning. In terms of pedal and dynamics, Bach didn’t have access to them (in an organ the only thing you can alter is time, also harpsichord). I do feel that with respect to the style as a pianist, if he had a choice to tell pianists today what to do, I think he would allow a little bit of pedal.
In terms of clarity, I feel that it’s very important to have clarity in playing, in a broader sense than articulation. I think that being articulated – I mean having articulation is extremely important – but also being articulate with what you want to convey is important. And if you’re ambiguous, then it’s because you decided to be ambiguous. But I think that you need to have clarity in all fields in order for it to come across in your playing.
And it’s one of the first things that struck me, and it’s so laudable, because so many pianists over-pedal, for one thing. But also, you’ve got a great repertoire breadth: from the Bach, we get in that Basel recital to Scriabin Ninth Sonata [try Horowitz’s 1965 performance – here with score]. I thought your performance was tremendous. One of the things that really impressed me was the way that you understood how trills have got a sort of independent energetic importance to them. They’re not just decorative, but they bring about an energy in themselves. In terms of repertoire going forwards from that, in terms of post-Scriabin, maybe Modernist music, how far do you go?
So actually, I haven’t performed much contemporary music. I have played a few Israeli pieces and from composers like Sergiu Natra, who died recently; he’s a really good composer. And also, I played pieces for two pianos and four hands by Kurtág, which is really not notes, it’s not sheet music, it’s shapes, and you’re supposed to figure out what to do. So that was from Játékok (Games). Amazing pieces. The concept of wrong notes is not really relevant. It’s quite freeing.
.The idea of creating a new notation itself makes one ask questions about the notation which exists already and what that can tell you, which I think is really interesting in Kurtág’s case.
Another aspect of the Scriabin, of course, where, you know, we can look at it going one way, which is towards modern music. But of course, Scriabin’s music itself came from Chopin, a lineage if you like. And I wonder if that was what drew it to you, to you in the first place?.
So, funny enough it, that wasn’t actually the case. I remember always thinking that Scriabin is not for me, like I couldn’t relate to it and when I was 18, a very good friend of mine, who’s a pianist himself, a Scriabin freak, he played a lot of Scriabin, he just made me listen to the composer’s late stuff, his early things and symphonies, and I somehow got enchanted by the writing and I’ve loved Scriabin ever since. But I didn’t get it at the beginning. It’s hard.
Scriabin has a very individual sound world, and as you go towards those late sonatas, it really is, quite incredible. And I really like the way you shaped the piece, as well. So it feels like a lot of work went into that?.
I remember working with my teacher and we really we dissected it together, and everything makes sense. Yeah, mathematically, you have one and then the same thing afterwards, in a different key, and then two and two and three and three. And there’s these very specific points that you know that something is about to happen, right? And it was really interesting. That makes that makes a lot of sense, because you can hear that you that you thought about it, and therefore it makes sense to the listener as well.
And this is related to the way you play the Liszt B minor Sonata. You play it in a way that is fantastically interesting, because after hearing the Scriabin, bits of the Liszt B minor sounded quite modern. But also, there’s quite a Janus-headed thing about the Liszt B minor Sonata, that you can see it as a virtuoso piece, or you can see it as the great Maurizio Pollini did, like a piece which moves towards late Liszt. With you, it struck me that you play it with true integrity. And the other word that came to my mind when I listened to you was dignity. But how do you see the piece?
So I actually see the piece in both ways. It’s obviously extremely virtuosic and demanding, but I don’t think it’s as virtuosic as, you know, the Réminiscences de Don Juan. You know, he was not only a composer, he was he first rock star in history. So you definitely see the parts of the sonata that I think are very impressive, but I also agree with Polini, because I think it’s the closest piano piece to a Wagner opera, and also the most philosophical piece until that point in history. It’s also in his life after he got tired with performing – and he was a party boy to say the least – he began to settle and to teach and become more religious. So I would have to agree.
What’s interesting is, you’ve got that incredible technique to be able to play that almost easily, but you actually give the music space to breathe. Now, it was the first movement of the Beethoven, Beethoven’s Third Concerto, which brought this to my attention. The first movement has space and breadth, but it also has power, it has that dynamic power of C minor. Also the first movement to Mozart 24th Piano Concerto, with that fantastic cadenza, and also the Rachmaninov Corelli Variations (from the recital referenced above).
Is this a conscious thing about giving every note space to breathe within relation to every one other one, but in the context of a greater structure?
I do think it is conscious, at least most of the time, because I hear music in general, as always engaging and always gaining tension and I really feel it in my body, like it intensifies. So, I really need to look for places where I can release, to let the music have an option to, recharge. So I do think it’s conscious.
What you’re talking is almost in terms of breath, and I suppose you get the inspiration and the expiration aspect. But in music-theoretical terms, you’re almost describing the what Leonard B. Meyer called the expectation and realization construct, as opposed to a more Schenkerian-harmonic kind of multi-layered fundamentally harmonic viewpoint.
Yes, but it is even in the relationship between two notes, finding the relationship so that nothing ever flatlines; it’s always wavy, contracting and releasing.
I just want to make a quick point about the Mozart Piano Concerto 24 cadenza you play, by Rona Kreiner, more a symphonic poem that cadenza,
Yeah. So she’s a student of my teacher. I was offered to play that concerto last year, and I had less than two weeks to study it, because it was really a last minute thing, and I’m like, ‘Well, I don’t have time to write a cadenza, so I’ll see what’s out there’. And someone told me, you need to listen to her cadenza. So I asked her permission, and I just really love it. It’s really cool. It’s really intelligently written.
You implied there that if you weren’t able to find a cadenza, you might write one yourself. Do you write your own cadenzas for Mozart concertos? Do you compose?
I’ve actually never written any Mozart cadenza – or any cadenza – but it’s definitely something that I want to do, even if I don’t end up performing it. Just let it simmer for a while. I think it’s good experience and good exercise.
Maybe, maybe we can hear that at the Cadogan Hall sometime, if you do a Mozart concerto!. Talking which collaborations, you’re obviously a collaborative pianist with conductors, but the chamber music with the MultiPiano Ensemble (website; Hyperion page) as well. What can you tell me about that aspect of your activities? And please if you want, do mention that wonderful Hyperion disc of Mozart MultiPiano Concertos.
MultiPiano is an ensemble my teacher founded 13 or 14 years ago, and I was an official part of it for a couple of years. Not right now, but if they need me, I’ll drop everything and I’m there. There’s the Hyperion CD, [of the complete mulipiano concertos] but also, for example, four years ago we played a two-piano version, eight hands of the Mendelssohn Octet. Also there was a MultiPiano performance of the entire Holst Planets for piano and percussion ensemble (I wasn’t in that). So really it was extremely fun, but it’s the most difficult chamber combination you can imagine. It is all the same instrument; it needs to be exactly together. Everything needs to be on point. The Mozart recording with the ECO, is the first project I’ve ever played with MultiPiano and my first recording overall Even though I only played a small part of the CD I was present for the entire recording session, so I definitely learned a lot. It was also without conductor!.
Here, incidentally, is the Hyperion promo video for that disc:
So you’ll play the Chopin First in London with the ECO on Sunday, May 11– what is your relationship with Chopin the composer, and with this piece in general?
I have a history with this piece. It’s maybe cheesy, but Chopin is probably my favourite composer ever. It’s like good cake, I can’t resist it. I find Chopin to be very similar to Mozart in many ways. Firstly, operatic – but it’s a different kind of opera as Chopin is very bel canto: think Bellini. But there are also specific gestures which other composers have used, but with Mozart and Chopin it’s more of a thumbprint. I really feel that Chopin is very specific, and you need to love Chopin in order to play it well. And regarding the First Concerto, I feel like I know it now less well than when I played it the first time!. Every time I go back to it, I discover more things that could be done and that I would change and every time. And it’s not like that with every piece that I come back to. It’s a very tricky cxwoncerto because someone told me it’s not a piano concerto, it is a. concerto for a pianist.
What makes it extremely difficult? That brings in the issue of Chopin’s orchestration – like Schumann, it is sometimes questioned or altered. But to me, it has a very individual sound. What are your thoughts on this, and do you find it problematic?
In the first and second movements there is not that much significant direct dialogue between piano and orchestra, so it’s really a monologue for lengthy periods of time. It’s very piano focused, I think. People don’t usually appreciate Chopin’s orchestration, but I’m in no place to say I don’t appreciate it. I actually think there are a few moments that are really exceptional, especially in the development of the first movement. You hear sometimes in recordings that they up the volume of the clarinets and you have this counterpoint there, but it’s really very pianistic.
The bassoon as well often gets drowned out in that first movement, too. I love that you say that you go back to a score and it reveals more and more. I’m wondering if that’s almost a definition of a great piece of music? That t’s inexhaustible?
Yes, I think that’s part of why classical music is considered classic. It stands the test of time for so many years. Definitely I think that’s part of what makes a masterpiece.
Looking at the Chopin First Concerto, what are the challenges of each movement?
I think that the first movement has a really difficult beginning because everyone becomes quiet, and you’re focusing, and everyone realises your entrance is coming. That’s when my father tells me that when he hears me play it live, he stops breathing from stress!
(I wonder how he’d cope with Brahms First Piano Concerto! )
Yes, but at least with the Brahms I ease into it, Chopin First is more similar here to the Grieg Piano Concerto opening. Another difficulty in the first movement is the sequences. There are many patterns that we see many, many times. The development is the entire thing, It’s basically the same music in different keys, but you need to somehow, with every tool that you have – dynamics, articulation, colour – to make it sound varied all the time, and developing all the time, Also there is a lot of emotional endurance – it’s very emotionally intense, and I think that you need to be courageous, and play it like it’s the last thing you’re ever going to play.
The second movement, for me, it’s very difficult to not let the second movement fall apart. I always had a tendency to slow down, I still do, and you need to practice the rubato in tempo, which is probably the ideal rubato, because there are so many places when you can take time – there you have the leggierissimo and here the syncopation – and you need to decide where you take time and where you give it back. You can’t just take time. And that’s the main challenge in the second movement.
As to the third movement, it’s difficult in many ways. Techncally, it’s absoluely terrible … and also even now I still notice every time the theme comes back, I realise things I haven’t done right before. There are slightly different rhythms. Also, it’s a dance movement and you need to have the Polish vibe. That’s why I think the Mazurkas are also the most difficult Chopin’s pieces. Here it’s not a mazurka, but you need to have this sense of lift.
With reference to pedalling in this concerto, how do you balance this aspect of your playing to have a sustaining ability, but also – that word again! – clarity?
So first of all, I play from the Paderewski edition and many times if I question things and I just lift my eyes form the keyboard and see what’s written, then it solves a lot of my problems. But I think it’s a matter of not using the pedal as ccncealer, but really trying to make as much as you can without adding it. Also it’s very different in every hall you play, the orchestra you play with, too, how quiet they can go in terms of volume, but especially in the hall you need to be very attentive, and to listen on the spot: and not to bring your pedal from home and recycle!
And staccato also? Mezzo-staccato and more gradations – you have more than most pianists!
Yes, its a conscious decision. It’s something that can naturally bring life to the music.
And what about the harmonic relationships, especially the large-scale ones? This comes naturally to you?
I think that when you understand the harmonic structure, even just playing in harmonic reduction, you can understand how long the phrases are, and why you can’t stop every moment. It’s very tempting to do that, because everything is beautiful.
Do you know the Cadogan Hall’s piano, and what ae your preferred pianos?
I have played in Cadogan, in a multi-piano concert, maybe three years ago, I’m not sure on which one. It was a Steinway. There were three onstage, they were all Steinways, all great.
Are you a Steinway devotee, then?
Not necessarily, in most concerts I played here were Steinways, so it’s the most common concert piano, but I have played on an incredible Yamaha concert grand, which I even loved more than any Steinway I’ve played on. As to Bösendorfer, I never played on a concert one, and I think Fazioli can be great but I haven’t had the chance. I feel it might be similar to German cars in relation to Italian cars. Steinway is steady, it has years of tradition, it has projection, it’s comfortable to play. The Faziolii I played on was very difficult to control. You just press on the pedal, immediately you have noise,or when you put a little bit more pressure you’re immediately in forte. That’s what I mean, it’s more of a sports car, a sports piano.
Finally, to the future? Performances? Recordings?
There are going to be, I’m sure!. Nothing apart from the upcoming Chopin disc on Avie very specifically yet. I’m going to finish my Master’s degree. I‘m the one who mostly cares about that, it will be a huge relief! In term of performances, I’m going to have a recital in Merkin Hall [Kaufman Music Center] in NewYork in September, and in June I’m going to play in Israel with the Jerusalem Symphony, Prokofiev’s Second Concerto. And I’m going to have a recital in Warsaw University in September as well, plus a few more concerts with the Jerusalem Symphony next year. Things are building up – lots of my performances have been stand-ins. So it’s very ongoing.
And very exciting, too: Sunday’s concert at Cadogan Hall is certainly one no to miss.
Here’s a link to Alon’s upcoming Chopin performance this Sunday, May 11, at 3pm (pleas note start time) with the English Chamber Orchestra under Roberto Forés Veses, coupled with Schumann’s magnificent “Rhenish” Symphony. Incidentally. there are a couple of “Rhenish” recordings considered on this website. I did not find Norrington particularly compelling in this symphony though; I far prefer Marek Janowski and the Dresden Philarmonie, again as part of a Schumann symphony cycle.
Also, on Friday, May 2, Gramophone magazine published a sponsored feature, Alon Kariv in interview with James Inverne, on the Israeli Piano School.
For this interested in exploring Kurtág’s Játékok, here’s a link to my review of a lecture-recital given at Wigmore Hall last month by Valeria Szervánszky and Ronald Cavaye.
That Hyperion release of Mozart Multipiano Concertos is available at Amazon here. Spotify below.
