Fabrizio Paterlini - The Art of the Piano

Exactly one year ago, Fabrizio Paterlini contacted us via email. One of those many emails that arrive at the site's press office - of which the undersigned was in charge at the time - and pile up in heaps, so much so that in the end you manage to reply with due courtesy to barely half of them, rather than with curt, off-the-shelf phrases. Paterlini was inviting us to listen to "Now", his latest release at the time, complete with a private code already prepared and a polite request to let him know if we'd be interested in reviewing it. It didn't go well for him, and his message ended up alongside many others, not even receiving a reply worthy of the name. Twelve months later, his second attempt with the album "The Art Of The Piano" - this time via the far more effective means of physically mailing it to the writer's home - allowed us to belatedly discover a genuine poet of the piano, who in seven years of career has produced at least three works of exquisite quality, yet only with this latest one has managed to earn a first-class seat on the increasingly crowded train of the so-called modern classical scene here at home. Curious to find out more about him and his upward trajectory, we reached him via email.

I recently discovered that you have a dedicated page on the English Wikipedia, but not on the Italian one. That's a bit strange - what do you think it's due to?

Well, it doesn't surprise me at all! My music is definitely better known abroad than in Italy, so it's natural that someone thought to add my biography to the English Wikipedia. If you look hard enough, there's even a Russian-language page! (laughs)

Indeed, I'd heard your name mentioned quite a few times, yet you only managed to gain more widespread visibility with this latest work... Was this a breakthrough you were expecting?

Up until now, all my work has progressed in "small steps": back in 2007, when I released my first "Viaggi in aeromobile", I did it more for personal satisfaction than out of any real "conviction" to embark on this adventure. It was in small steps, precisely, that I noticed my music was starting to travel widely online, that I was starting to get contacted from abroad, that I was sending out more and more CDs... In short, given how I work, talking about a "breakthrough" is always a bit of a stretch. I am happy that "The Art Of The Piano" reached the Italian audience, perhaps more than my other works did - that much is true.

In our country there are people like Ludovico Einaudi who have managed to earn quite a bit of space with the piano as their only ally... What do you think this genre's success is down to?

It's a genre that accompanies the life of whoever's listening. It adapts to the emotions you feel, to what you see while you listen, and it makes you daydream. It's a very cross-cutting genre — it's appreciated by metal listeners just as much as by those into more pop-leaning sounds. It has few filters, it's very direct, it speaks a simple language. The more you dig deeper and get to know the artists in this current, the more you appreciate its nuances: melancholy for some, joie de vivre for others, curiosity for others still. It's a genre I love a lot, I'm a fan of many of my "colleagues"! (laughs)

“The Art Of The Piano” is probably the most personal and "introspective" record of your career, even though it's nothing new for you to link your "inner" world to your music through titles and melodies... Where did you draw inspiration from for this work?

The inspiration came from a post I made one day, asking what images or words could best express the concept of melancholy. I was truly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of replies and photos I received. Instinctively, I sat down at the piano and gave my own answer, writing "If Melancholy Were Music". I'd say that was the starting point of this work, which was first conceived as "singles" to release on SoundCloud, and then as a collection on "The Art Of the Piano".

That title, "If Melancholy Were Music", struck me in particular... Is it actually an attempt to translate melancholy into notes?

Exactly – just as I was saying, it was my own contribution to what, at that moment, I felt melancholy might sound like in music.

The album cover is perhaps the strangest thing... What does it represent and how does it connect to the musical dimension?

The cover was a piece of work I'm really pleased with. Here too, I relied on the art of Eugenio Ormas (who had already created the graphic concepts for "Autumn Stories" and "Now"), but this time, for the first time, we chose an artwork not tied to real "landscapes", but to more visionary symbols. Everything I love is in that cover: hands, piano keys, the alchemical symbol of air (an element I adore), and there's that strong contrast between what I actually play and the image representing it. The vinyl version is spectacular, too, in all its grandeur!

There also seems to be a "romantic" spirit at work, an exaltation of the piano and its art even before the art itself... Can you confirm that?

Yes, that's exactly what the album title is meant to convey. A tribute to the beauty of the instrument and its incredible expressive capacity.

What's your relationship with your instrument, and what does it represent for you?

My relationship with the piano has actually always been a troubled one. As a kid, when I was studying classical music, I got to the point of hating it (as happens to many), and in fact, as a teenager, I abandoned it in favor of synthesizers, workstations and Hammond organs. For years I played the most varied genres in cover bands. I came back to it when I wrote "Viaggi in aeromobile", a true turning point in my life, when I moved back to my native Mantua (I'd lived in Milan for quite a while), met the woman who would become my wife, and started out on this new adventure.

I've read that you cite Max Richter as one of your main models. Others tend to associate you with Nils Frahm, while I personally find you much closer to artists like Eluvium and ÓÓlafur Arnalds, and far removed from the academicism of the first names I mentioned... What do you think?

You've mentioned artists I love a great deal and who, without doubt, are an important source of inspiration. I believe being curious is a fundamental part of the creative process: digging deeper, discovering new artists, listening closely to their art is important because it expands your sonic horizons. From this point of view, I think playing at festivals is truly the best thing: I remember last year, when I took part in a lovely festival in Belgium and had the good fortune to play right before Greg Haines – it was a wonderful experience, both on stage as a performer and then out in the crowd!

Who are the musicians who actually inspire you the most?

Well, as you rightly said before, it was definitely Ludovico Einaudi "in the beginning". I think in my first record, "Viaggi in aeromobile", his influence is fairly evident in the structure of the songs. After that, I always tried to pursue my own idea and a style that I think has kept refining itself (in small steps, precisely) in my later work.

Among the composers I love most, besides the already-mentioned Max Richter and Ólafur Arnalds, I'd add Dustin O’Halloran but also Sigur Rós, Jon Hopkins and Hauschka.

Which artists do you particularly appreciate these days, even outside your own field?

I've recently loved Brad Mehldau's latest work, “Mehliana”: a fantastic blend of moog, rhodes and drums, truly hypnotic. These past months I've been exploring the more “electronic” side of ambient: names like the very Italian Saffronkeira come to mind, or artists like Willits, Fennesz and Rafael Anton Irisarri.

Honestly, I've always found the term modern classical something of a contradiction in terms, even though I often find myself forced to use it since it's the label most readers associate with contemporary instrumental music… In your view, does this kind of categorization actually make sense?

When people ask me what genre I play, I've always thought the most effective answer is “something like Ludovico Einaudi” (laughs) – honestly, it's not easy to define this scene: some call it modern classical, others neo-classical, and I've even heard indie-classical (!). I couldn't really tell you whether this “cataloguing” actually makes sense: let's say that among “insiders” it can be useful to have a shared frame of reference, but for the listener at the end of the day, it hardly matters.

More broadly, from a musician's point of view, classifications and genres are very often nothing but a limitation, a partial view, an excessive “simplification”… What's your take on this?

As far as I'm concerned (though I'm sure it's the same for many others), composing certainly isn't bound by genre. Especially for those without contractual obligations, market “compromises” and books to balance, composing really means exploring within yourself with total freedom, free of any constraints.

There's a generation of musicians who, even in Italy, following in the wake of international success, are now following “your” same path. I'm thinking of Bruno Bavota, who I've read you know well, and Federico Albanese – whom I discovered purely by chance… What does a musician who's devoted years to this art think of this “proliferation”?

I couldn't be happier about it! It's great that a whole “school” of this genre is forming in Italy too, exploring this wonderful instrument in all (or many) of its shades. I follow Bruno's successes with interest and friendship, for instance, and I'm glad he's carving out an increasingly significant space for himself internationally. Unfortunately, in Italy this genre still struggles to find room, aside from the usual well-known names. But I remain hopeful.

I read that you'll be taking part in Piano City here in Milan! What does the live dimension mean to you?

The live dimension is where the circle closes: you don't compose only for yourself, and you don't record music except to let as many people as possible hear it. So bringing my pieces to the stage is the completion of a journey that, most of the time, starts on the weighted keyboard I keep in my son's bedroom (laughs). The chemistry that forms with the audience, then, is an art in itself and would deserve hours and hours of discussion. It really is true that the listener matters just as much as the performer.

How do you usually put together your concerts in terms of instrumentation?

It depends on the situation: sometimes a piano is enough, sometimes I bring along a string duo (usually violin and cello), and if it's possible, I even bring my Arp Odyssey and some electronics. I'm pretty flexible, let's say.

What are your plans for the near future?

The first project is right around the corner: I'm about to become a father for the second time! Musically speaking, on the other hand, I've taken a break to revamp my studio – in May, besides the already-mentioned Piano City, which I really hope to take part in, I have a tour of Russia planned, along with a series of concerts in Tokyo in the autumn.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google