TV : Vous aviez joué de la musique de piano du vingtième siècle (Malipiero, Petrassi…), mais quid « de la musique contemporaine » (Stockhausen, Boulez… etc.) ?

SIB : En voilà une question embarrassante… Au cours des années j’ai joué beaucoup la musique contemporaine, mais j’ai souvent le sentiment que c’est un domaine spécialisé. J’avais l’habitude de jouer les Klavierstücke 5 & 9 de Stockhausen, des pièces de Sciarrino, Scelsi, ainsi que de compositeurs britanniques modernes comme Chapple et Ferneyhough. Le mois dernier, j’ai donné le première mondiale de deux petites pièces du compositeur hollandais Erik Lotichius, dont le premier concert de piano que j’ai enregistré l’année dernière en Russie, mais il ne compte pas : d’il est un maître de contrepoint, il n’emploie les dissonances que très économiquement. Le morceau d’avant-garde le plus récent que j’ai joué était la Sonata de Berio en 2004, et je ne l’ai pas apprécié beaucoup. Il est important, je pense, de rester en contact le domaine de la création, et quand j’en ai l’opportunité, j’aime jouer la nouvelle musique. Il y a une atmosphère particulière chaque fois qu’une œuvre nouvelle est créée, et quand la musique est bonne il est même possible de trouver la beauté dans la laideur. Finalement, c’est jusqu’à nous les interprètes de faire le meilleur avec de ce que nous devons travailler !

TV : Pourriez-vous nous faire part de vos réflexion à propos de la vie musicale en Italie – à laquelle vous participez beaucoup- en ces temps difficiles économiquement et politiquement ?

SIB : SIB : Revenir en Italie après environ vingt années en Angleterre a été la plus grande erreur de ma vie. La politique et les politiciens ont infiltré chaque aspect de la société, musique incluse, et l’Italie culturellement parlant a énormément régressé. Il y a de belles réalisations, des musiciens honnêtes et doués qui ajoutent considérablement à la scène musicale, mais je crains que l’Italie soit bien en retrait derrière la majeure partie de l’Europe. Nous avons plus de théâtres historiques que le reste du monde, mais nous faisons la musique très peu de musique en leur sein ! Avec mes faibles moyens, j’essaye de faire une différence, mais je ne suis associé à aucune faction politique, il est donc difficile d’aller bien loin, c’est très triste.

TV : Pourriez vous nous parler de vos inspirations : pianistes du passé ou vivants, chefs d’orchestre, artistes…

SIB : Pianistiquement, mon guide reste Shura Cherkassky. Son son, sa vision, sa capacité vertigineuse pour mener une phrase musicale sont uniques. D’autres que j’admire énormément sont Wilhelm Kempff, Gyorgy Cziffra et Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli. Pour les géants vivants, je suis fanatique d’Ivo Pogorelich et de Vladimir Ashkenazy. Pour la plus jeune génération, je pense que Roberto Prosseda est un poète et Francesco Libetta un virtuose incroyable, dans la lignée de Volodos et Hamelin. Je ne pense pas beaucoup aux phénomènes du moment, qui tendent à être plutôt éphémères. J’aime les individualistes, les gens qui ajoutent une ‘nuance personnelle’, comme Busoni le disait, à tout qu’ils jouent. La musique doit être agréable tout d’abord, aventurière, mais non pédante. Mon rapport avec les chefs d’orchestre a été plutôt rugueux. Souvent, tout en voyageant, je dois travailler avec des personnes qui toutes sont préoccupées par leur symphonie, et peu pour le concerto de piano. C’est erroné, naturellement, mais il n’y a aucun traitement pour la vanité de certains. Quand les choses fonctionnent bien, un lien musical fort peut se former et les résultats sont souvent merveilleux. Chaque année je travaille avec Peter Stangel, à Munich, il est l’un des rares qui comprenne le concept de donner un son de concert en accord avec son soliste. Au cours des années, j’ai fait du bon travail avec Michele Carulli, et aussi Nicolae Moldoveanu.

TV : Pour finir, vous avez fait plusieurs enregistrements, particulièrement pour le label Brilliant classics. Pouvez-vous nous parler de ces collaborations et comment prévoyez-vous le futur de la diffusion de musique ?

SIB : Enregistrer des disques est aussi important que de jouer en public, mais beaucoup plus stressant. Ce qui va sur un CD est là pour toujours, sans la possibilité de modification ! Ma discographie reflète ma passion pour le répertoire italien comme ma fascination avec la musique complexe, et j’ai été chanceux d’avoir eu l’occasion d’enregistrer tant de musique. Au cours des années j’ai eu du mal à trouver des partenaires compétents dans le studio d’enregistrement. Enregistrer est un processus fatiguant, et il est fondamental que le pianiste fasse complètement confiance au producteur. Comme avec des chefs d’orchestre, un grand disque devrait provenir de la vision combinée du soliste et du producteur, il devrait y a un élément d’interaction entre les deux, car l’interprète fatiguera inévitablement dehors et peut facilement perdre de vue sa vision originelle. Heureusement, mon chemin a croisé celui d’Alessandro Simonetto, un jeune Italien avec une oreille infaillible, un sens musical remarquable et une compétence technique extrême. Ma dernière aventure a été l’enregistrement des transcriptions complètes de Bach-Busoni avec lui, une entreprise énorme que j’espère nous avons fait avec imagination et intégrité. Je suis convaincu que le CD ne mourra pas. Les expériences récentes dans le domaine de la diffusion de musique ont prouvé que le public classique ne prise pas tant que cela les téléchargements sur PC… La musique est toujours une recherche très personnelle, que ce soit pour l’écrire, la jouer, ou l’écouter elle, et il est bien de tenir en main un objet tangible…

La question qui suit, un peu osée, était supposée « off », mais Sandro Ivo Bartoli a souhaité la voir publiée.

TV : J’ai rencontré un pianiste français, Pascal Amoyel, qui est un ami maintenant, que je trouve extraordinaire, autant que vous-même, même si je n’avais pas eu la chance de vous écouter en concert. Comme vous, il a fait des enregistrements souvent primés, donné de nombreux concerts dans toute l’Europe, mais pourtant n’est pas invité par les plus grands orchestres ou dans les plus grandes salles de concert – et je suis sûr que lui ou vous pourrait donner au moins la même réalisation musicale que les stars actuelles du piano. Est-ce un choix, une question de directeur artistique ? Je n’ai jamais directement demandé à Pascal, mais la distance entre nous me donne le courage de vous poser la question…

SIB : On ne peut nier que le business de la musique s’est fortement dégradé dans les dernières décennies. La fabrication des superstars est devenue une occurrence presque journalière, et de gens vont aux concerts et achètent des enregistrements. Il serait intéressant de savoir combien parmi les récentes ‘découvertes’ (de jeunes, jolis, et capables musiciens qui ont été lancés en grande pompe par les compagnies) sont encore en activité et à quel niveau. Le même principe s’applique aux gagnants de concours : il y a beaucoup de buzz au sujet des plus récents vainqueurs, ils vont partout dans le monde jouer la même chose et disparaissent alors presque invariablement. On n’a pas besoin d’être un génie pour comprendre que c’est erroné, mais qu’elle est la solution ? Récemment, un manager italien m’a dit que j’étais ‘trop vieux’ pour son équipe. J’ai 43 ans, dans la force de l’âge, et mûrirai si tout va bien raisonnablement pour être en mesure d’offrir une lecture approfondie de ce que je joue. L’âge ne devrait pas entrer dans l’évaluation d’un musicien (si une chose est sûre, c’est que quelqu’un de plus âgé développe plus de perspicacité dans son métier !). Hélas, cela existe, et c’est symptomatique de l’érosion de l’éthique à laquelle nous devons faire face. Finalement, je crois qu’il n’y a aucun substitut au travail dur et à l’expérience. Je crois que tôt ou tard ‘l’industrie’ de la musique se rendra compte qu’un concert n’est pas une exposition de mode, que le look est important mais le charisme encore plus, et que la musique doit comprendre un élément de risque, de surprise, afin de communiquer le plus grand éventail d’émotions et d’impressions. Les gens m’appellent un artiste, mais je vis et travaille davantage en tant qu’artisan, exerçant mon métier aussi bien que je je le peux, sans penser de trop au futur ou à la politique de la musique. Parfois Lui, du Parnasse, descend sur la Terre et guide nos mains, transformant le travail dur et honnête des artisans en œuvre d’art. Et c’est ce qui fait que ça vaut le coup, sans regarder en arrière.

Site de Sandro Ivo Bartoli

Sandro Ivo Bartoli – Interview

I has the opportunity to comment two CDs by this artist: Malipiero and the Frescobaldi legacy. Many thanks to Sandro Ivo Bartoli having agreed to answer to our questionnaire:

Thierry Vagne: Could you quickly present yourself: your family background, your first opening to music, your studies, notably the importance of Shura Cherkassky advices?

Sandro Ivo Bartoli: Music was in my family long before I was born. My paternal Great-grandfather had been a notable clarinetist who had worked under Toscanini and had a life-long friendship with Puccini. Despite such legacy, though, music was not a big part of our life when I was little. I came to the piano by accident, when my mother threatened to sell the family upright. I was twelve at the time, and everything came very easily for me. At fifteen I gave my first recital, then came the first engagements with orchestras and life was beautiful! But, I guess, I was not a good student: too curious, not very disciplined and rather naïve. I didn’t like school, nor my teachers. It all changed when I first heard Shura Cherkassky in London, in 1991. His playing was a great revelation to me, and I was completely mesmerised by his musicianship. I did what millions of fans have done through the centuries: I wrote him a letter; Shura was nice enough to reply, we met, and eventually we became friends. When he was in London, we would spend long hours at his piano at The White House hotel, which was only a short walk from my lodgings in Albany Street. He would practice for one hour, then I would practice for one hour and so on. Once in a while he would come up with illuminating comments, which I treasure still today very dearly. He helped me very much, not only with my playing but also with the beginning of my international career, and my gratitude to him will be everlasting.

TV: Since you are somehow specialized in the Italian piano repertoire, could you give us a survey of it? (My knowledge of it, before listening to your CDs, comprised Scarlatti, Galuppi’s sonata by Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli to Luigi Nono by Maurizio Pollini…).

SIB: With the current financial crisis, in Italy we often hear about the fleeing of talent to greener pastures, but I’m afraid this is somewhat endemic here. The piano was born in Florence around 1700, yet it enjoyed its greatest popularity and annexed technical development in Germany, Austria and England. Domenico Scarlatti was, in my opinion, the greatest keyboard composer of the Eighteenth Century – alas, he worked in Spain and Portugal. To my delight, as many recent documents have shown conclusively, there were no less than nine pianofortes during his tenure at the court of Lisbon: some of his music is thus unequivocably ‘pianistic’. The next great Italian of the piano was Muzio Clementi, of course, but he also worked abroad, in England, and came back to Italy rarely and for family reasons only. Then there is the greatest of them all, Ferruccio Busoni, who also came out of Italy but elected Germany as his residence and cultural base. During the 1800s, virtually all Italian major composer devoted themselves to opera and its derivatives, but hardly to any symphonic, chamber of solo music. Things began to change with the new century, when the ‘generation of the eighties’, a group of musicians who were born in or around 1880, strived to revive the Italian instrumental tradition. They did not have the burden of the Romantic tradition to deal with, and were able, in the best cases, to produce music of unprecedented freedom and vitality. I refer particularly to the music of Alfredo Casella, Gian Francesco Malipiero, Ottorino Respighi and Ildebrando Pizzetti. Of course, all these people were in Italy during the Fascist regime, and paid a hefty price in the years after the war in terms of popularity and appreciation. During the Sixties and Seventies they were almost completely forgotten, but things have changed for the better in recent years. I am convinced that one day the concertos of Respighi, Malipiero and Casella, at least, will reappear with regularity on our concert programmes.

TV: You have a wide repertoire, especially for piano concertos. Could you tell us what are you preferred composers, and which ones you would like to work on? And what about the French piano repertoire?

SIB: I try to have as my favorite composer the one I am working on at the moment! Over the years, I have developed a great fascination with complex musical textures, and I guess my repertoire reflects this tendency. In general, I like to work on music that is not too popular, as I believe that an interpreter ought to have something to ‘say’ with whatever he or she is playing, and frankly I find it a little difficult to do so when I play, say, Beethoven’s ‘Pathetique’ sonata and have, in my memory, the interpretations of the great pianists from the past. What else can be discovered about a piece of music that has been frequented by Kempff, Cherkassky, Cziffra, Cortot, Horowitz, Gould, Ashkenazi, Perahia, and so many more… Still, I have to earn a living playing the piano, and audience demands are as important as artistic aspirations. Of the standard repertoire, I love playing Rachmaninov, Tchajkovsky, Chopin and Liszt very much, a little less so Beethoven, Brahms and Mozart. But, given a choice, I would prefer playing Respighi’s Concerto in modo misolidio over Tchajkovsky’s First. It is a more liberating musical experience, for me. Some times ago it was an honoured tradition for Italian pianists to play much French music, the originator of which was Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli (whose interpretations of Debussy and Ravel are, in my opinion, magical). Again, in my small ways I broke the mould! When I was younger I used to play some Debussy (Préludes, Nocturne) and Ravel (Sonatine, Pavane) and undoubtedly the study of such maestros prepared me very adequately to more ambitious enterprises. By the time I began my quest to reintroduce the music of Malipiero I experienced, so to speak, a conflict of interests. Malipiero’s early music, especially, is very impressionistic (indeed, at times he seems to draw his pianistic inspiration directly from Claude Debussy, to whom he even dedicated a musical homage), and there was no logic in playing, say, his Preludi Autunnali next to Debussy. Similarly, Casella’s A Notte Alta is idiomatically similar to the Ravel of Gaspard de la nuit and Miroirs, and their cohexistence in a concert programme would result in too much of the same language being spoken. Given my fixation to play forgotten music, my choice was unequivocal: I played the Italians over the French! Still, I am very fond of late Franck (I play both of his marvellous tryptics, the Prelude, Choral et Fugue and the Prelude, Aria et Final), some Saint-Saëns (I wish that I could play the Fourth piano concerto: I love it, but never had the chance to perform it), and a Suite de Pieces of Lully which I ‘inherited’ from Shura Cherkassky.

TV: You’ve been doing XXth century piano music (Malipiero, Petrassi…), but what about “contemporary music” (Stockhausen, Boulez… etc.)?

SIB: Ah, this is a tricky one. Over the years I have played quite a bit of contemporary music, but I often get the feeling that it is a specialized field. I used to play Stockhausen’s Klavierstucke No.5 and 9, something by Sciarrino, Scelsi, and a few things by modern British composers like Chapple and Ferneyhough. Last month, I gave the world première of two little pieces by Dutch composer Erik Lotichius, whose First Piano concerto I recorded in Russia last year, but he doesn’t count: he is a master of counterpoint, and uses dissonances very sparingly. The most recent avant-garde piece I played was Berio’s Sonata in 2004, and I did not enjoy it very much. It is important, I think, to keep in touch with what goes on in the creative field, and when I get an opportunity I am very fond of playing new music. There is a peculiar atmosphere every time a new work is performed, and when the music is good it is even possible to find beauty in ugliness. Ultimately, it is up to us interpreters to make the best of what we have to work with!

TV: Could you give us your thoughts about musical life in Italy – to which you participate extendedly -in these economically and political troubled days?

SIB: Coming back to Italy after twenty or so years in England was the greatest mistake I have ever made. Politics and politicians have infiltrated every aspects of society, music included, and culturally speaking Italy has gone back to the age of Commons. There are nice realities, honest and talented musicians who add greatly to the musical scene, but generally I fear that Italy is far behind most of Europe. We have more historic theatres than the rest of the world, and yet we do very little music in them! In my small ways I try to make a difference, but as I am not associated with any political faction it is quite difficult to get anywhere. It is very sad indeed.

TV: Could you tell us about your inspirations: former or actual pianists, conductors, artists…

SIB: Pianistically, my guiding light remains Shura Cherkassky. His sound, his vision, his vertiginous capacity for leading a musical phrase are unique. Others I admire greatly are Wilhelm Kempff, Gyorgy Cziffra and Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli. Of the living giants, I am very fond of Ivo Pogorelich and Vladimir Ashkenazy. Of the younger generation, I think Roberto Prosseda is a poet and Francesco Libetta an incredible virtuoso, in league with Volodos and Hamelin. I don’t think much about the phenomenons of the moment, who tend to be rather ephemeral. I like individualists, people who add a ‘personal nuance’, as Busoni used to say, to everything they play. Music ought to be enjoyable first of all, adventurous, but not pedantic. My relationship with conductors has been rather rocky. Often, while touring, I have to work with people who are all concerned about their symphony, and care little for the piano concerto. This is wrong, of course, but there is no cure for the vanity of some. When things work well, a strong musical bond can be formed and the results are often marvelous. Every year I work with Peter Stangel, in Munich, and he is one of the very few who understands the concept of ‘making’ a concerto sound alive together with his soloist. Over the years, I have done some good work with Michele Carulli, and Nicolae Moldoveanu also.

TV: Lastly, you have made several recordings, especially for the Brilliant classics label. Could you tell us about these collaborations and how do you forecast the future of music diffusion?

SIB: Making records is as important as playing in public, only much more stressful. What goes on a CD is there forever, with no possibility of recovery! My discography reflects my passion for the Italian repertoire as well as my fascination with complex music, and I have been fortunate to have the opportunity to record so much music. Over the years I have had some trouble finding competent partners in the recording studio. Making records is a tiresome process, and it is fundamental that the player trusts the producer completely. Like with conductors, a great record should stem from the combined vision of player and producer, there should be an element of interaction between the two, as the interpreter will inevitably tire out and quite easily stray from his or her original concept. Fortunately, my path has crossed that of Alessandro Simonetto, a young Italian with an infallible ear, remarkable musicianship and extreme technical competence. My latest adventure has been the recording of the complete Bach-Busoni transcriptions with him, a huge undertaking which I hope we did with fantasy and integrity. I am convinced that the CD will not die. Recent experiments in the field of music diffusion have shown that the classical audience is not so fond of PC downloads… Music is always a very personal quest, be it to write it, play it, or listen to it, and it is nice to have something tangible, like a CD, to hold on to.

I asked Sandro an « off the record question », rather rude, but he weelingly agreed to get his answer published:

TV: I have met a French pianist, Pascal Amoyel, who is a friend now, who I find just overwhelming, as yourself, even if I hadn’t the chance to listen to you in concert. Like you, he made highly praised recordings, gives many concerts throughout Europe, but yet is not invited with the top orchestras or in the top concert halls – and I am sure that he or you could give at least the same musical fulfillment as actual pianist top stars. Is it just a choice, a question of artistic manager? I never asked Pascal directly, but the distance gives me the courage to ask you…

SIB: There is no denying that the ‘business’ of music has gone haywire in the past few decades. The making of superstars has become an almost everyday occurrence, and fewer and fewer people go to concerts and buy recordings. It would be interesting to find out how many of the recent ‘discoveries’, (young, pretty, and capable musicians who were launched with much pomp by the major record companies) are still active and at which level. The same applies to competition winners: there is much buzz about the latest conquerors, they go all over the world playing the same, tired warhorses for a few years, and then almost invariably disappear. One doesn’t need to be a genius to understand that this is wrong, but what’s the solution? Recently, an Italian manager told me that I was ‘too old’ for his ranks. I am 43, in the prime of my life, and hopefully reasonably mature to be in a position to offer an authoritative reading of what I play. Age should not enter in the evaluation of a musician (if anything, somebody older might have more insight into his or her craft!), alas it does, and it is symptomatic of the erosion of ethics we all have to contend with. At the end of the day, I believe that there is no substitute for good old fashion hard work and experience. I believe that sooner or later the ‘industry’ of music will realize that a concert is not a fashion show, that looks are important but charisma more so, and that music ought to have an element of risk, of surprise, in order to communicate the widest array of emotions and impressions. People call me an artist, but I live and work more as an artisan, plying my craft as best as I can, without thinking too much of the future or the politics of music. Sometimes He, from the Parnassus, descends to earth and guides our hands, turning the honest toil of the artisans into a work of art. And this is what makes it all worth it, without looking back.

Sandro Ivo Bartoli web site