When friends make things
I think it's fair to say that there comes a point in every musician's life where they have to take the big leap to put themselves in front of the world. For some, it's auditioning for an orchestra job, for others, it's competing in an international competition or performing an important debut recital.
But of all the ways to put yourself out into the world, the one that has always felt to me the most personally significant is releasing a first CD.
Thanks to music streaming, now more than ever, once you release a recording — and with it a piece of yourself — the world is listening.
Few things have made me happier this year than seeing no less than three of my friends release their very first solo albums. Each of them has their own unique story, and I felt privileged to have followed their developments from idea to reality. So today, I want to introduce you to these friends who have accomplished the enormous, daunting, and triumphant task of putting themselves and their music out into the world.
Musically speaking, there are few people I feel more closely related to than my fellow cellist Raphaël Jouan. We were both in the same class and year at the Paris Conservatoire, we accompanied each other on our Master's recitals (playing the exact same piece no less!), and we were both laureates of Gautier Capuçon's class at the Louis Vuitton Foundation. In January we played a concert together in Raphaël’s hometown of Metz, and, if it hadn't been for COVID, he would've become the first of my French friends to visit and play in my hometown of London, Ontario. (Don't worry Londoners, we still have plans to make it happen one of these days 😉)
Now, to add to our list of similarities, both of our debut albums focus on French repertoire.
With all of our shared experiences, I've often appreciated how Raphael and I have been able to offer each other very complimentary views of music. Whereas in my Cavatine, impressionist composer Claude Debussy's Cello Sonata of 1914 is a starting point to explore French music moving forward in the 20th century; in Sérénade, Raphael and pianist Flore Merlin let us bathe in the world of music that Debussy's Sonata was a part of. I think the result is striking, allowing often neglected works a chance to shine and highlighting just how much Debussy was thinking in a different dimension than his contemporaries.
I have to admit, I'm just a bit jealous that Raphael got to play with a beautiful Erard piano from 1903, which adds wonderful colour to the recording. The perks of having access to the instrument bank of the Paris Conservatory.
We often say that the music world is a small one, and it's always delightful to meet up with old friends in unexpected places. Delighted is definitely how I felt when Georgina Rossi, a Chilean-American violist I had met during a summer in Banff, sent me a message saying she would be coming through Paris. We subsequently enjoyed catching up over some good food and wine at one of my favourite bistros, and for our next meal, I returned the visit during one of my quick trips through New York City. That’s when Georgina first told me about her idea of making a CD devoted to the viola music of Chilean composers.
From the very start I could tell how much of a personal project this was for her, and it was inspiring to watch her work tirelessly overcoming the hurdles to making her idea come to life. Mobili is a fascinating journey through a world of music that I was completely unfamiliar with, varying from evocatively colourful to dramatically lyrical and intensely emotional.
Georgina also happens to be a talented visual artist, and designed the cover art herself! In fact, every element of Georgina's CD is given such care, and done with such conviction, that you can't help but admire it. And of course, I can't forget to mention the equally important musical contribution of my fellow Canadian, Silvie Cheng, at the piano.
More than anyone else, Violinist Théotime Langlois de Swarte constantly inspires me to dream big. Théotime is the kind of person who thinks : "wouldn't it be cool to play on that Stradivarius violin that's sitting at the Paris Museum of Music?" and then before you know it, and seemingly by magic, he's found a way to play a concert on that very instrument broadcast live on Radio France. We played in a piano trio together for a couple of years, and I remember so many evenings and long train rides together spent sharing grander than life ideas and imagining of all the things we wanted to accomplish. This year, Théotime became the first ever baroque violinist to be nominated as Instrumental Soloist Revelation of the Year by the Victories de la Musique (basically the French Grammy’s), and no one else's story has made me believe more in the power of dreaming big.
I was visiting Théotime in Paris when he first described this amazing idea he had for a CD, which was followed by an impromptu reading of the music that was to become its title track. The Mad Lover was released last week, and might just win the prize for best titled classical album in history. It features 17th and 18th century English violin music, intimately presented with the accompaniment of a solo lute played by Thomas Dunford. The expression and beauty of this music seems to know no bounds and is constantly captivating. To me, the idea and realization are so quintessentially Théotime that I can't help but smile.
To Raphäel, Georgina, and Théotime, congratulations. I can't describe how special it feels to have been able to watch the stories of each of your albums unfold, and how much it's made me happy to have spent the last couple weeks listening to the results of all your work and dedication. Moments like this remind me of how incredible it is to lead a life in music, surrounded by people constantly bringing their ideas into the world.