Interview with Alexandre Kantorow

Interview: Bjørn Woll
Translation: Robert William Smales

Alexandre Kantorow’s career trajectory has been nothing short of dizzying. Since winning the prestigious Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow in 2019 at just 22 years old, the French pianist’s rise has been meteoric. Alongside the Chopin Competition in Warsaw, this is arguably the most important prize of all for pianists. It served as a springboard for Kantorow’s already burgeoning career. Coming from a family of musicians, he studied under the likes of Pierre-Alain Volondat, Igor Lazko, Frank Braley and Rena Shereshevskaya.

In 2022, »The New York Times« hailed him as a »new star in the classical firmament«. »Der Standard«, the Austrian newspaper, described him as one of the »finest pianists in the world«. He has also been called a »colossus« and referred to as »a Liszt reborn«. He made several debuts with major orchestras in the 2023/24 season, including the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Munich Philharmonic and the Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal under Yannick Nézet-Séguin. He performed both Brahms piano concertos with John Eliot Gardiner and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, and gave a whole series of recitals across Asia, with stops in Seoul, Beijing, Shanghai, and Tokyo. Last August, he was a featured soloist on the grand festival stage in Salzburg, and earlier in the year, he performed Ravel’s »Jeux d’eau« to an audience of millions during the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympic Games – a poetic match for the pouring rain and flowing water beneath the Seine bridge.

Alexandre Kantorow has been a frequent guest in Hamburg since the early days of his international career. In the 2024/25 season, he is set to appear in multiple concerts as the Elbphilharmonie’s Artist in Residence.

As artist-in-residence, Alexandre Kantorow performs a number of concerts in Hamburg in the 2024/25 season.

The opening ceremony of the Olympic Games is one of the biggest events in the world. What was your own experience like of this moment in the spotlight?

It was crazy! More than anything, I was just so pleased I got to choose the piece I wanted to play and that there weren’t any cuts for television. This meant I could showcase classical music in its authentic form, without trying to make it seem cooler in any way. The day itself was both exciting and exhausting. I had to wait seven hours before I got to perform on the bridge. There were strict safety protocols, and the rain caused some issues with the piano too. But the weather also brought about this unique atmosphere where everyone was drawn a little closer together.

An audience of millions watched you perform on television. Does it feel different to you, performing in a chamber music hall for 800 people versus virtually for an audience that spans the entire globe?

That was of course the largest audience I’ve ever played for. And yet, amazingly, it was also a very intimate moment for me, because I was sitting alone at the piano on the bridge. The ships were gliding past on the Seine below me, the rain was falling from above and Ravel’s »Jeux d’eau« was playing – so it was magical somehow.

Isn’t it tricky playing on wet keys? I imagine it gets quite slippery ...

In the morning I was still a bit worried as the weather forecast wasn’t good. But then, backstage, I was watching the artists performing before me. And it dawned on me that I was a part of something so much bigger than me, which was really inspiring. All the little details that usually matter during a concert seemed far less important. Thanks to the special spirit on that day, I’d say I even felt less pressure than I usually do when performing in a concert hall.

Johannes Brahms features prominently in your repertoire – both in live performances and your recordings. Would you say he is your favourite composer at the moment?

I first heard his Second Piano Concerto when I was very young, and it had a profound impact on me. I find Brahms’ music incredibly sensual; it unfolds in a very organic way. Some of his best works are based on just a few notes, which he repeats, modifies, and transforms. It’s like the roots of a tree, which then grow quite naturally into an intricate web of branches and leaves. Then there’s his emotional depth. Brahms is quite introverted and doesn’t lay bare all of himself. His emotions are usually restrained, but there are rare moments where he lets go and reveals himself fully.

You are performing two of his piano quartets in Hamburg too. It is often said that Brahms was particularly fond of chamber music. What do the piano quartets tell us about him as a person?

They show us that he took chamber music just as seriously as the great symphonies, that he composed them with the same ambition and depth. He pushed the instruments to their fullest potential, often bringing about an enormous sound through his unusually rich use of chords, which is rare in chamber music. I find his treatment of the piano particularly remarkable too because he draws out so many different facets from it. At times, the piano takes on the accompaniment, allowing the strings to sing, and at other points it creates very intimate moments or symphonic outbursts with powerful, full-bodied chords. This compositional versatility gives Brahms’ music a unique fluidity. He also managed to strike an impressive balance between the piano and the string instruments, which is not always the case with piano quartets.

You made your debut in the Grand Hall of the Elbphilharmonie in 2022 with Teodor Currentzis, who is known for his unique and often unconventional interpretations. Looking ahead to April 2025, when you’ll be performing Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2 together, what can the audience expect, given that you‘ve already collaborated on this work?

What I admire most about Teodor Currentzis is how much time he takes for the music. While many performances only involve one or two rehearsals, he spent three full days working to achieve the perfect balance. He wanted the piano and orchestra to sound like one instrument, to resonate in perfect harmony. He was also looking for a different sound, not the heavy, dark sound that we know from the old Karajan or Furtwängler recordings. He wanted a Brahms sound that was fresher and clearer. We also worked a lot on the rhythm, which is central to Brahms’ music. There are so many dance-like elements and gestures that create a sense of momentum and energy. Currentzis also pays meticulous attention to the colour shifts in the piano. Most importantly, the orchestral sound needs to be transparent so that these colour shifts can shine through at all.

Daniel Barenboim once remarked that the piano has no inherent colours, so it falls to the pianist to create the illusion of them. Do you agree?

This, I believe, is one of the greatest challenges of our instrument. Unlike violinists, we don’t have a bow to shape the sound, nor can we produce vibrato. Once we’ve pressed a key, we cannot alter the texture of the note. It’s as though we’re playing little bells that gradually fade away. On the piano, there are only two ways to shape a note: how we strike the key and how much time we leave between notes. Then, of course, there’s the pedal. Beyond that, everything is an illusion – brought about through subtle accents or a delicate offset between the two hands. This is also the reason why achieving shifts in colour and mood on the piano requires more time. A singer or instrumentalist can shift colour and expression in an instant, but the piano does not offer us that same immediacy.

During your residency at the Elbphilharmonie you are playing almost exclusively 19th century composers. Do you consider yourself a romantic at heart?

I find the transition from the classical to the romantic period particularly fascinating. In the 18th century, there was a strong belief in human progress – not only in technology but also in society at large. Everything seemed possible. Then, by the 19th century, people came to realise that not all of these hopes had come to fruition. This led to a return to myths and legends, to a new interest in the occult, in all the fantastic things between heaven and earth. This harking back to the past can also be found in music, especially among the first generation of composers who were both contemporary artists in their own right and yet engaged with the past, with the music of Bach and Mozart. Another aspect is that for us contemporary performers, the Romantics feel more immediate—they are not as distant as the Classical composers. There’s a sort of guiding light in their music that shows us how to interpret it. While I’m still gradually exploring the past, the lack of information from that time makes it sometimes challenging to truly grasp the essence of this music. But I keep on searching, and my journey in this direction is far from over.

You were once described as a »reincarnated Liszt «. He was famous for his large hands and your hands also look big in photos. Does that give you an advantage as a pianist?

Certainly, having large hands can be beneficial for things like octave fingerings or powerful passages – those are clear advantages. Having said that, with larger hands it can be tricky to achieve an even balance across every note in a phrase because the length of each finger may differ. For example, I have rather slender hands, which sometimes makes it difficult for me to find the right balance for the sound I have in mind. As pianists, we »struggle« with our hands in different ways and try to work around the anatomical difficulties.

Liszt was also a showman and entertainer. Do you see yourself in the same light, or would you say you're more introverted?

It’s always hard to describe yourself, but I’d say I lean more towards being an introvert. However, I do use music and the stage as a way to express myself. When I take breaks from performing, I tend to be more reserved, but when I start performing again, I become more open. It’s a constant shift between these two poles. By the way, Liszt wasn’t just the rock star he’s often portrayed to be; his later works also reveal introspective, lyrical and even lonely aspects to his personality.

In Hamburg, you perform in the Laeiszhalle Recital Hall and the Elbphilharmonie Grand Hall. How do the acoustics of different spaces impact your piano playing?

The impact is significant. Every time I perform in a new hall, I realise I have to do things differently. Over time though, you develop a strong instinct for how best to respond. If there’s too much reverb, for instance, I need to slow down to make sure the harmonies are clear. If the acoustics are too dry, a little more pedal might be required. Sometimes, techniques that feel completely natural at home on my piano don’t work as well in a different hall or on another instrument. The key is to stay open to change. Adapting to a hall’s acoustics can also be inspiring, revealing possibilities I hadn’t even thought of before.

For pianists, each performance often involves not only a different hall but also a different instrument—unless, like Krystian Zimerman, you always bring along your own grand piano …

If I can’t achieve the sound I’m aiming for on a new instrument, I have to find alternative solutions and approach the music with some fresh thinking, even though that can be challenging. So I can certainly understand why some of my colleagues bring their own instrument and their own piano tuner to concerts, as they also have a big impact on the sound. When the right blend of venue and instrument comes together, those are the exhilarating moments when I feel completely free as a performer.

Your career path has skyrocketed in recent years. How do you handle that?

I don’t really notice it myself, as I’ve been lucky to be able to just grow while completely immersed in the music itself. My father is a musician, and I have been fortunate to receive the right advice at the right moments. It was only after the Tchaikovsky Competition in 2019 that I suddenly found myself in the spotlight. But then Covid hit, which slowed things down again. I used that time to focus on expanding my repertoire, which turned out to be crucial. It meant I was ready for the competition, but not for what came after it.