Ludovico Einaudi - The Shape of Emotions

Do you think tonal music has a greater capacity to tell stories, to move an audience? How do you explain the fact that, even today, many people still don't appreciate atonal music?

"In part, it can depend on context and on listeners' expectations. When a general audience attends a classical concert, you'll find they react negatively if the programme closes with a piece by Stockhausen. But you could just as easily imagine the mirror-opposite situation if, say, a concert of Berio's music ended with a song by Battisti. In certain settings you're simply more receptive to certain things than to others. Still, I think there's truth in what you're suggesting: music rooted in a tonal language stirs emotion more easily and more immediately, perhaps because it carries more sedimented listening experience, more collective memory behind it."

What do you think when you get labelled 'neoclassical'?

Maybe some people make a rather superficial association because of certain sounds or the use of orchestra. That term really doesn't apply to me at all — it makes me think of something academic and a bit precious.

Where do you stand between Classicism/form and Romanticism/emotion?

Romantic composers were the ones who progressively broke down forms, but forms are always still there, even if less rigidly structured than in the eighteenth century. Form is an indispensable aspect of music, because it provides direction. It works like scaffolding: it can even become invisible, but it's what holds the architecture up. In songs, for instance, there's always song-form: it can be elaborated on, dismantled, but it's present even in the most experimental tracks, like some of Radiohead's. On the other hand, attention to form can't become an end in itself: we feed on music to nourish the spirit, and I believe that deeply. If I were only interested in musical geometries, I would have chosen a different profession. The right balance lies between these two components, because music isn't pure emotion, but it isn't pure geometry either: it's really the interweaving of emotion and geometry. That's what I feel when I listen to Bach: what appears to be numerical, engineering-like perfection turns out to be connected to spirituality and the emotional sphere. That's how music achieves its greatest result.

Could it be that our modern taste for Bach is shaped by a tendency to "romanticize" his music? For instance, by transferring harpsichord scores onto the piano...

In my view, however you play it, a light full of pathos shines through. Even if you have a computer play it, without any interpretation, "something" emerges from the contrapuntal weave that goes well beyond the mathematical formula.

Coming back to your body of work, what relationship is there between the world of sound and the evocation of certain "images"? I'm thinking of the titles of your pieces too...

There are various possibilities. An album like Le Onde was far removed from what one might picture as a "postcard of the sea"; the idea came to me from reading a book by Virginia Woolf: there I found the idea of time flowing over the course of a single day, the cyclical sense of waves repeatedly breaking on the shore, following the inner waves of the protagonist, marked by severe depression alternating with moments of exaltation. All these elements lent themselves well to musical exploration; some titles were then drawn straight from pages of the book, like La linea scura. In other cases, though, as with Divenire, the idea can spring from a broader theme, perhaps suggested by various readings in poetry or philosophy I happen to be doing at a given time. Often I assign titles afterwards: I compare them against each other to find an overall balance, as if I were arranging a poem.

Besides Le Onde, which of your works do you feel are most complete?

I think they all have their own specific character, perhaps with certain aspects prevailing over others: some works are richer in meaning, even conceptually, others less so. For instance, the album Una Mattina had less philosophical ambition, and I think of it more as a collection of pieces; that doesn't mean I don't like it musically — I still perform it. A work like Nightbook, alongside its musical aspect, reveals greater potential in a richer underlying idea, and perhaps Divenire does too. I Giorni is tied to a journey, and certain elements recur, like the "African melody": overall it has a successful interweaving of its own, which reminds me of a beautiful moment in my life.

Your music has enjoyed great popularity, but that success has also earned you a faction of detractors. How do you see that?

Honestly, I don't worry too much about what people say. I have a great passion for my work and I try to give it my all. Then it's only natural that some people don't like what I do, because they don't find it matches what they'd rather be listening to.

Where does the line lie between simplicity as a virtue and simplicity as a flaw?

The difference is subtle. If you walk into a Japanese garden and see a few elements arranged in a certain way, it feels like entering a sacred place. But if you try to arrange those same elements somewhere else, the result isn't the same: because there's no work behind it, no search for balance within that space. Simplicity of touch isn't something you find lying around and adopt because it's easier. It requires a journey. First and foremost, it's a philosophy.

"Less is more"...

Exactly. It's a principle I've been exploring for almost twenty years now, even if I haven't always followed it alone.

Do you feel, then, that you're waging some kind of aesthetic battle? 

No, I don't believe in a perfect rule for art. My output reflects my own sensibility, but the world is a beautiful place precisely because it's so varied. I myself enjoy a lot of music that's very different from mine - for instance the atonal electronics of Alva Noto, whom I admire enormously. 

Which composers do you feel close to, and which do you listen to? 

I could mention Arvo Pärt, or the German composer Max Richter, who's really interesting. An album that struck me recently, partly because of its similarity to the title of my own "Nightbook", is "Night Song" by a Norwegian composer. As for American minimalism, I don't listen to it that often. Philip Glass has explored his own sonic world so thoroughly that it's rare for him to still surprise me - with the exception of his film scores: in recent years I've greatly appreciated the one he wrote for Woody Allen's "Cassandra's Dream". 

For OndaRock's readers, I'd like to ask you about your more or less recent passions in rock and related genres... what are the first names that come to mind? 

First of all, three Radiohead albums: "The Bends", "Ok Computer" and "Kid A". I've listened to them so much that I know them by heart by now! Then I love the Beatles, the Rolling Stones from the Brian Jones era, and the very earliest Pink Floyd, especially "A Saucerful of Secrets"... whereas I've never been able to digest an album like "The Wall". I also can't fail to mention Hendrix, Cream, The Who... there was also a period when I listened to King Crimson, Yes and similar bands. Then the '80s were the decade that left me disoriented. An album that was very important for me, because it brought me back to rock, was "The Joshua Tree" by U2, a band I went on loving through "Achtung Baby". 

What's the most significant turning point in the age of the internet and YouTube? 

In the past as today, the medium has always shaped the music. In recent years there's been a tendency to break albums apart, and we've gone back to an age of singles. Which isn't a bad thing at all: whereas in the CD era tracks were often added just to fill out the album format, in the singles era there were masterpieces created within a much shorter span. Today, the 3-5-6 minute form is still a framework within which a great deal can be said. 

In closing, are there any new projects in the works?

In these months I'm working on some pieces I've written, but they're still at the gathering stage; when I put together a new project I don't always have a precise idea from the outset of what it will become - I discover that along the way. In any case, I plan to record a new work within a year. There's also something I've been wanting to do for a while now: I'd like to put together an educational project aimed at new generations of young people approaching the piano.

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Thanks to: Antonio Renna, Gisella Cangemi and the Orchestra Sinfonica Siciliana

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