Fabian Müller

Fabian Müller, professor at the Hochschule für Musik Köln, has already recorded several CDs on our piano duo "353018". With him I dive into a world of old colors and sounds and learn about the similarities between a grand piano and a tennis racket. And I marvel at his feeling that it never sounds quite the way he wants it to.

Müller, when you open piano-duo.blog and explore the beginnings of our project, you might think it is your personal website. Did you know that you were unintentionally a very important initiator for our piano duo project?

No, I wasn't aware of that. However, anyway, I feel that I have been involved in the creation of it...

Today, with several CDs already published, you are a self-confessed piano duo artist of our piano duo grand piano from 1956. What makes this grand piano so very special for you?

Well, in a way, this grand piano embodies what I've always looked for in other grand pianos. It's this world of old sounds and colors that is almost impossible to find today. And instead of having to fight for this world of colors and sounds, this grand piano invites you to enter this sound space.

For my part, I am often asked whether the whole effort of preparing a grand piano for a performance or a concert, or even having it specially delivered, is not a bit exaggerated. How would you answer this question?

No, not at all! It may sound like a lot of effort at first glance. Yet compared to the work that a pianist puts into making this recording well or playing this concert well, the preparations and transport of the instrument is only a "drop" of extra effort. And, when you consider what an incredible frustration it is to work so hard for a great recording and then be limited by a bad instrument! Limited not only by your own playing, by the moment or the atmosphere, but exclusively by a bad instrument - then there is nothing better than having a grand piano that sets you no limits. That's my answer as an artist. As an outside listener, I must answer that it's a luxury. A positive luxury that comes at no small cost. Still, these costs are out of proportion to the incredible added value of playing on the grand piano you personally chose to record on.

Gifted that you would rather play on a particularly good instrument. But do you think the audience even notices a beautiful grand piano?

Absolutely! Of course, the audience perceives the quality! This is perhaps comparable to a tennis player who has a less-than-perfect racket: The spectators don't realize the quality of the racket - but the ball misses! And that' s what the audience notices, too.

A pianist is not privileged like a violinist or a singer to be able to take his instrument everywhere. How long does it take for you to get used to a completely unknown, maybe even unplayable instrument?

How can you even get used to a grand piano if it's not good and doesn't do what you want it to do?

As an experienced pianist, one has learned to "dream one's way past" this to some extent. However, it also depends on what the problems are. If it's a small mechanics problem, missing a small note, then it's no big deal. If, however, there are notes somewhere in the treble that simply sound "dead", and it is merely not possible to play a beautiful cantilena on them, then the only thing you can really do is to take the sound you produce as a starting point for your fantasy of what you would like it to sound like....

...I noticed two words in your answer: "dreaming one's way past" and "fantasy". Is an artist's imagination more important than his technical skill?

Yes, absolutely! One hundred percent! That's why also great pianists can play amazingly well on bad grand pianos. Longing for what is to come out is perhaps the most important drive for a pianist. It's not realistic to expect everything to always work out the way you think it will. Yet on a good grand piano, there will much more often come the moment when the grand piano positively surprises you, over and above its own vision.

In other words, you must practically program your fingers and your head to remember the inconsistencies of touch and sound and play each key differently so that it sounds as even, free, and natural as possible to the listener?

Yes! Yet this is not a conscious process, it works entirely through the desire of the ear - and the mechanics and the fingers and the body will follow. It is therefore not memorisation....

...but the inner vision that pulls everything behind it?

Yes, exactly!

What do you think when you hear that a grand piano is already too old for concert use at the age of five?

Yeah, I've heard that here and there...

...and then what do you say?

Then I'll answer: "That's an opinion I don't agree with in any way!"

...and the same people claim that a grand piano is not properly played in the first five years.

[laughs] Yeah, yeah. No comment!

You also had the chance to get to know our new "615313" a little bit already. How do you see the difference between old and new grand pianos in general and our two piano duo instruments in particular?

It's hard to generalize because each grand piano is very individual. But still, I would say that the older pianos, if they are good, more often have that warm, mellow glow around the sound. And even the combination of sounds is not achieved by adding individual tones, but rather by the sounds combining at a very deep level.

With the old grand piano, then, you let the sound develop by itself, through its resonance, through the connection of the sounds with each other, while with the new grand piano you specify and design these sounds yourself?

Yes, right.

Is an old sound compatible with new music? Would you play Ligeti on the older grand piano, for example?

Actually, there are some pieces by Ligeti that could work great on the old grand piano, because Ligeti was someone who spoke a lot about Schumann and Brahms and has great poetry in itself. A poetry that sometimes reminds me also of the poetics of the early years of jazz - with this beautiful, shimmering, free, not cheesy, light-hearted sound. Nevertheless, the extremes that Ligeti demands and the evaluation of the maximum and beyond are so rabid in many pieces that I would always tend to the newer grand piano.

You seem very soundproof. Can you learn something like that?

I actually don't feel soundproof at all. I rather feel that it never quite sounds as I want it to. So, I'm always looking and enjoying those little moments when it works.

You are now thinking about performance. But I meant your inner imagination, which is your sonic-musical compass. You seem to have a very strong sense of it.

This is quite an exciting topic! I have been playing piano for a very long time and have had many great teachers...

... of course! With Pierre-Laurent Aimard you had the sound magician of all times as your professor...

Yes, but at some point, I also learned what sound I myself actually want. I find it quite exciting that this is an independent wish of mine, my musical ideal. And I've also learned that this is actually also a part of my personality that I can't completely manipulate in all directions.

...but generally speaking: What is the importance of sound in studies?

In studying… I think that depends more on the professor than on the part of the study program. You can't say: "We are now putting sound on the teaching curriculum". It is more in the hands of individual teachers to influence students tonally. And if you're lucky, you'll meet professors with fantastic ears in your studies. It's fortunate when you meet people who are really great listeners. However, I don't think that you can reduce the quality of a grand piano to its sound. Yet, there is of course a category of "sound" that needs a lot of work.

And what do you think: how important is the sound for the success of a concert or a recording?

That is also an exciting question! ... [thinks long and hard]

…I think a singer wouldn't think about it now, right?

Maybe not...Sound can ruin everything quite easily, because it is the essential element of music. But you need the best sound to be able to convey something in music. It's like having a great meal. This needs the very best and most refined taste, but in the end, the experience of eating is more than just the quality of the taste. That's my opinion. But it is very clear: A concert with a bad sound is like a meal with the wrong amount of salt and pepper - it just becomes inedible!

What most people may not even know: Piano music is only very rarely recorded in studios, but mostly in sinfully expensive, empty concert halls, often at nightly times - why this effort?

I've always tried to pick places where I have 24-hour access to the grand piano. It's incredibly gratifying for me when I can sit down and play in the evening after a successful day of recording. If, in the second, I have the feeling that the inspiration for it is just perfect - maybe better than the whole day when I have already recorded everything.

This allows great flexibility to find the right moment. And there it is like with a great grand piano: if you have the opportunity, it is more than some help. It is a support that can have an essential influence on the quality of a recording. It's just as luxurious as it's an important part of the shots I'm happy with in the end.

... and why don't you record in the studio?

It's just different from pop music. Classical music should not create an artificial feeling of space, but rather you should have the feeling that you are sitting in a room that breathes the music and that contributes something to the sound with its acoustics. Maybe you can compare that to football. One often speaks of the 12th man, the Fans in the stadium pushing the ball forward. It is similar with the hall acoustics: The hall absorbs the sound, changes it and gives it back. And it also does something with the atmosphere ...

How do you prepare for a recording? Have you, for example, already played the pieces once a long time ago and let them "rest" for a while beforehand, or does music that is "freshly" studied simply sound best?

No, these are all pieces that I've been playing for a very, very long time. And even now I'm already working on the works that I want to record in the next few years. But when the time comes, you get the feeling that it's going too fast. You just need to have the courage and go for it. Therefore, there are always long preparatory processes that precede a recording. There are sub-steps in which you make a piece like this your own. That means that in the end there are no more obstacles that keep me from the great effect, from the great ideal. For it is only when you feel you can walk through the piece without crutches that a work is ready to be recorded.

Is there actually an “ideal shot” for an artist, or is it just a selective observation that occurs now of the shot? And five years later one says: "I would have played that very differently today!"

Yes, absolutely! It's also a process that I had to learn myself. I am quite a perfectionist and bother me about little things. But I had to learn from other recordings that I often found legendary live recordings fantastic. Not because of the little things that could bother you - but the big picture is just so fantastic that the little things can be neglected. That is not to say that one should not claim to be performing everything perfectly. However, every musical performance is always a very contemporaneous expression of an instinct, of a feeling that one has at that moment as a musician. And the recording is a document of it. That's what makes music so exciting.

When a concert or a recording is so subject to momentum: what is it that remains? What is it that makes a musical experience so unforgettable even after decades in which the tastes of the people and the technical possibilities of the artists, the instruments and the recording devices have already changed three times? Can you "grasp" that?

I don't think so! I think this is a secret - inexpressible and only heard by the ears. If I were to try to describe it, I would say: “In the end, it is most important that someone sits there who experiences something authentically and has a strong desire to express it. That is the basic requirement.

How do you choose the pieces for a new recording?

It's not as if I walk around and ask myself: what am I recording now? There are certainly a dozen works that are so important to me that at some point I would like to record them. These pieces are an integral part of my musical journey. They are works that I hear often that I admire and to which I would also like to give my personal answer. And then there are pieces that you didn't expect at all; they are put in the way of you, and they take you by surprise. But both arise somewhere at a suitable moment. I don't have the feeling that I really “choose”.

What are the guiding factors for your interpretation: From your musical role models, from the likes on the Internet or your personal understanding of the pieces?

Clearly from my personal understanding! I make music for people who, for whatever reason, have a similar understanding of music as I do. Of course, I let myself be influenced. When I think of my Schubert recording, it is of course influenced by what Alfred Brendel told me in the many years that I was allowed to be with him. But in the end, I just let my personal taste guide me.

How does an artist find his own artistic truth under the pressure of having to please a broad public?

I don't want to please the public. But of course, there are authorities. I'll name three: Alfred Brendel, Daniel Barenboim, Pierre-Laurent Aimard. If these giants tell me something and I make a different decision, then that already requires a decision-making process, a separate finding of the truth.

Do you read your review?

From a few critics that I like and that I find interesting, I do it every now and then. But surprisingly little - actually almost not at all anymore. The idea of how a piece should be is sometimes very strong and then dictates the criticism that is expressed about it. Rather, there are certain people whose criticism is important to me. Among them are not only the afore-mentioned authorities, but also my wife, who has nothing to do with music professionally. If she says that she finds "the last movement too fast", then I definitely think about it, too.

How much does criticism hurt?

Sometimes you can get angry with critics because you don't have the opportunity to answer. Especially if the criticism is simply wrong and you think: Just read what Beethoven wrote and you will see that there is no point in what you write! You just can't get upset about that! Otherwise, I actually like criticism if it is not malicious, because I have the feeling that the other person has listened to me really well.

When does a bad review hurt more: When you know you had a bad day and are dissatisfied yourself, or when you are convinced that you played really well?

In any case if I was satisfied myself! If you played badly and then someone tells you that, then you can say that: "You are right!" There is a saying that goes: “Anyone who has always been satisfied with themselves has never tried to play as well as possible!” You must accept that you also have a certain form on the day.

Does a critique have any influence at all on your play? And if so, what?

A very direct one! Also, my own criticism. For example, if I hear a recording of my concert and I'm very annoyed about a detail or about a tempo that I think no, it must be slower, then I'll play it differently next time.

In a young pianist's life, there are certainly milestones that need to be set. What outweighs you: the desire to achieve something new, unprecedented, and thus not be comparable, or the hope to bring something fresh into an established area through a different approach?

Good question! Take, for example, my Schubert CD: On the one hand, I would really like to bring the late Schubert sonatas to life in a new and different way by giving my own personal answers. And at the same time, I slowly try again and again to include my own compositions in the program. Some organizers think it's great, while others say, “You are a pianist, we don't need a composer”. And then of course I wonder what authority I have as an artist if I'm not even allowed to play my own compositions! Just that moment when I have become creative in the highest form and present something that I have thought up and in which the audience does not know what is coming! That is something I sometimes miss and that is why I now try to include it more and more often. And that, by the way, is something that pop music has over the classical music scene: When someone releases a new album there and no one knows what's on it, people go wild for it. That is fantastic!

...and what specifically would be such a milestone for you?

First and foremost, these are the great works for piano that I personally really care about. The Schubert sonatas I have just recorded are certainly a real milestone. Then I played and conducted all 5 Beethoven piano concertos, which was also a milestone. Soon, the well-tempered piano, Volume 1, is a milestone.

Especially with the music of the 20th and the 21st century - for my taste - often too little is explained, the audience is not “involved” enough. In 2015 you yourself won the “Sound and Explanation” competition. Do you see yourself at least partially responsible when it comes to involving the audience in the music?

Yes! I also do like the idea of ​​going on stage, playing and being done. In a sense that I feel like I'm just on the finished music project I'm dreaming of right now. For pianists this has a great attraction to spend in their ivory tower. But otherwise, I take a very pragmatic view: I feel a great urge to explain to a friend I am playing to what I appreciate about this work. It is a natural impulse to explain this to him. It's not about my sense of responsibility and not about strategy. I do this just because I want to help him when I see the question mark on his face. And I often feel the same willingness to help in concerts. And by the way, I have the feeling that this creates a very nice connection with the audience.

There is always a certain aloofness and elitism about the classical concert business. The audience is getting older, and the average age today is likely to be 60 years. Do you see an opportunity for yourself and your colleagues of the same age to interest a younger audience in your art?

I can see them absolutely! I think it's crucial that a lot is invested in very young people to bring this music to them. It is important to give young people a chance to like it. You must learn this liking. Personally, I have stopped being annoyed when there are not so many young people in the concert. I like to play for people of all ages, but I also like to only play for older people. That's fine. I'm also not sure that between twenty and thirty you don't have something else on your mind. Maybe you want to go out and hop around rather than sit quietly at a concert. And between thirty and forty, you may have children and simply no head or time for other things.

Today you are a professor at the Hochschule für Musik in Köln. Are there things you would like to do differently than your own teachers?

I was already very lucky that all the teachers I had myself were passionate about music - and their desire for quality determined everything else. That doesn't mean it was dogged or that it was tyrannical teachers. I loved that there was no compromise in striving for the highest quality possible. And in this sense, my teachers are always role models for me. I came out of class and thought to myself: In this lesson I experienced a world about the work, about the craft of playing the piano and about how I can become better as a pianist. And all of this is my top priority when I teach myself today. This is much more and more important than the details that I might want to do differently.

And what do you really want to pass on to your students?

I could give a very poetic answer now, like "find yourself" or something like that. But what I'm realizing myself now with my students again is how incredible a lot you learn over that time as a young student. Very often people think: "Making music is talent and a bit of "finding oneself". But it is enormously technical and an insane amount of "understanding-how-it-works"! Why did the Dutch paint so well in the 16th and 17th centuries? Because they knew how to do it! And that is sometimes underestimated. I don't want to be a teacher who beats around the bush, but I want to try to teach my students everything that I know. So that you get the largest possible tool case in terms of quality that one can have. Then finding yourself about it can be a very fun process, but when you look at it from the outside you sometimes forget that playing the piano is a very demanding art.

What are your very personal wishes and plans for your professional future?

I have a lot of fun being a pianist. And I already mentioned the mountains that I still want to climb.

... and what do you wish for the music business in general?

I hope that our curiosity to go to the concert, to meet, to talk to each other and to practice art quite creatively, regardless of drawers, that this moment of going somewhere and being surprised and overwhelmed by something on stage never stops. I hope that one day we won't all just sit on the couch and watch Netflix, but that we will go out and listen to what people actually do and what they have to say.

Fabian Müller, thank you very much for the interview!