Britten recording magazine article
Like buses, you wait months for a blog entry then 2 come along at once. This is an article I was asked to write for the German magazine 'Piano News', talking about the experience of recording Britten's works for piano and orchestra.
"Recording is a fascinating and deeply stimulating business. I know some people have a 'moral' problem with it, as if it's fundamentally dishonest to create a composite performance out of many different takes, but I've never shared that view. Stephen Hough has a good line about it - the difference between concerts and recording is similar to the difference between acting in the theatre and in film. In both cases, the latter option utilises much more sophisticated technical means to create an idealised end-result. The danger in recording is that any sense of spontaneity and inspiration can be lost in the process, but equally much can be gained - one is able to reflect in great detail on the effectiveness of each musical gesture in one's interpretation with an intensity that is difficult to find in any other context. One of the strange things about being a musician is the difference between how the music feels when you play it and how it sounds in the auditorium, and I find it is almost inevitable when I hear a recording of one of my concerts that I am shocked by many things - how fast or slow something sounds, how I misjudged the pacing here or there, how much better this passage sounds than it felt, how much worse that one.... When I finish a recording, I am always left with a greatly deepened understanding of how to show directly to the listener what I feel about the music. This is both exhilarating and, frankly, a little horrifying ('how could I have been so ignorant about the music before?').
"Normally I bring an idea for a record to Hyperion to consider but in this case it was the other way round - they suggested to me the complete concertante piano works of Britten. I don't learn music very quickly so I'm quite choosy about what I take on, but immediately this was a project which excited me: I found so much interest, character and beauty in these works which are so seldom played, even in Britain (I don't remember seeing even one of them programmed). The concerto is a marvellous piece, full of energy and colour and contrasts, utterly exhilarating to play. Young Apollo has a wonderful lightness of touch and some great effects. But best of all is Diversions which, to me, is something of a masterpiece. How is it possible that a work so inventive, touching, witty and serious remains virtually unknown? Perhaps the answer is simple - it's a nightmare to learn. Written for only the left hand, at times one has to virtually defy the laws of physics to fit everything in. And there is your right hand sitting in your lap doing nothing; that's really cruel.
The recording process was a little unusual for me in that I had a cold which peaked on the first day in the studio. This day passed in something of a haze with my brain struggling to connect to my fingers. At times like these, one is very reliant on one's producer to assess the quality of what is being played, and I'm lucky to have made all my records with one of the best in the business, Andrew Keener, a man with great ears, musical instincts, and human understanding. Andrew has got me through many less-than-ideal situations and this time was no different. The remaining days of recording were much happier. I have worked with Ilan Volkov often and have great respect for his serious, insightful musicianship and prodigious technical skills. Likewise, I have a long and happy association with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. I think they were the first professional orchestra I ever worked with and I've had many friends in its ranks, not least my sister-in-law. I think everyone was aware that we were making a great record and by the end there was the closest thing to a party atmosphere as I've experienced in the recording studio. The best thing of all, though, was going to the pub afterwards, buying a beer, and staring vacantly at the wall. After three days of the most intense concentration, this feels like the most blissful thing in the world."