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As the third edition of Lyon's Superspectives contemporary music festival, which he runs with his friend Camille Rhonat, gets underway, we take a look back at the debut CD by talented young pianist François Mardirossian, devoted to the works of Moondog. Passionate about minimalist music, which has colored the programming of his festival in all its forms since 2019, the musician is also a formidable discoverer, always on the lookout for new scores to place in front of his keyboard.
Why are you interested in Moondog, and what is it about his piano writing that fascinates you, to the point of making him the sole composer featured on your debut disc (no mean feat), to be released in 2019 by Megadisc Classics?
I discovered Moondog by chance. I was living in Brussels and, while browsing in a second-hand bookshop, I came across Amaury Cornut's biography; the cover with Moondog's head caught my eye, so I read the back cover and, seeing the names of Philip Glass, Janis Joplin and Charlie Parker all jumbled together, I thought I'd like to find out more about this composer... As someone who didn't know him and who hates to overlook composers or musical trends, my curiosity was more than piqued. I read the biography in one go, and his life fascinated me: his encounters, his failures, his influences, etc. Everything! Everything! I still hadn't heard a single note of his music. I soon discovered some tracks on the Internet that I really liked(Mood Montreux; Elf Dance; Chaconne in A) and contacted Amaury to get some sheet music. I was lucky that he responded quickly and positively, as it's a bit of an obstacle course to find Moondog's works. Nothing is published, and it's a bit of a preserve for the performers who play it. I'm one of them now, but I refuse to hold back. Once I had the scores, I played them regularly as a soloist, and even adapted some for two pianos. I got in touch with a label and offered them three programs: Philip Glass's Études; a solo album devoted to Alan Hovhaness ; and Moondog as a solo piano. The producer chose Moondog. I was interested in proposing this rather than doing yet another version of Granados' Goyescas or Beethoven's last three Sonatas (when you want to be original as a young pianist, it's this type of collection that you turn to, I think). I wanted to take part in this adventure initiated by Amaury: the rediscovery of a musical personality. Besides, I love the minimalist movement and feel at ease with it pianistically.
The character himself is a singular one. Did this also play a part in your choice?
Yes and no. The character is an excellent marketing tool and makes a lot of people curious, but that's not the main thing. His music is stronger than his eccentricity. Once you've got past the curiosity of the character, his music makes you forget all about his biography, and that's a good thing, because it's a sign of quality in an artist. Sometimes I wish - like a pianist playing Mozart or Haydn - that I didn't have to tell the story of Moondog's life, but simply got up on stage and played him. I don't think there'd be any loss of intensity. I'm confident in the power of his music.
How did you go about making this CD?
Once the label had agreed, things fell into place for the release of the album. I went to test the piano in Gap. I worked a lot, even though I was very busy with the first edition of Superspectives, I recorded in May and the record came out in September 2019. I'm glad I wrote a booklet in the form of a dialogue with Amaury Cornut, because it gives a lot of information. We did a few concerts to launch it, Paris, Brussels, Cherbourg etc. and it got a pretty good reception from the critics. From my e-mail to the label to the release of the record, it took over a year and a half. You have to be patient!
The sound on the album is very meticulous. Can you tell us a little more about the recording process?
I was lucky enough to record with an extremely meticulous and cultured sound engineer. We spent a lot of time looking for the perfect sound and arranging certain things to find that ideal (half-open lid; closed curtains for a duller sound; changing the position of the piano etc.). Pascal Perrot's piano at Studio Alys near Gap is also a very fine instrument (a Bechstein A228), on which playing Moondog seemed to suit me perfectly. We spent two and a half days together, and I played each piece three to five times from start to finish, in order to find the right version. There are twenty-eight tracks, so I'll leave you to count them... We wanted to avoid editing in order to preserve a naturalness that rarely exists today; this counts a lot for the quality of an album, the freshness of an interpretation. Once I'd recorded a piece, I'd listen to it and redo it if necessary. Otherwise, I'd carry on.
Reading the CD booklet, we notice that you seem to know Moondog's career very well. Do you always do in-depth research into the artists you work with?
I'm one of those pianists who could be described as a "geek". I have tons of sheet music, books on music, and a collection of over 2,500 vinyl records, not counting CDs. I'm really suffering from acute collector's disease... So yes, I clearly go into great depth about the composers I write about: biographies, various listenings, testimonies from performers, etc. It's a vital need to know what's going on in the world of music. It's a vital need to know as much as possible about the person I'm playing. If you're going to spend hours behind your instrument racking your brains over works, you might as well get to know the person you're working with. This gives me a better grasp of the composer's aesthetic, and enables me to fine-tune my playing. For example, playing Moondog's piano pieces without taking into account his relationship with percussion, contrapuntal music and jazz would result in a poor, even truncated interpretation. At the moment, I'm delving into a forgotten aspect of French music: the Lyon school at the beginning of the last century! Composers such as Ennemond Trillat, Edouard Commette and Marcel Péhu no longer mean anything to anyone, and I've come across several of their works that I find more than interesting. So, my approach is to search every second-hand bookshop in Lyon for writings, old newspapers that might talk about them. And, of course, sheet music. For several years now, I've been working on a project around Alan Hovhaness, an American composer who was a precursor of a certain kind of minimalism in more ways than one: my next recording will be devoted to his piano works for Advitam Records (I'll be recording what I'm playing on June 27, 2021 at Superspectives). I'm exploring most of his piano works thanks to his widow, who sends them to me from the United States. And for the past few months, I've been playing the music of a jazzman friend: Mario Stantchev (well known to the Lyonnais and Bulgarians), whom I adore and to whom I've dedicated several pieces, music that is rich in style and very moving. Mario's works are unique, in the sense that the multitude of influences they contain do not prevent their music from being sincere, innovative and intelligent. And what can I say about the piano writing itself, except that putting your fingers behind Mario's is a tightrope walker's challenge, and I love it! Here's the teaser I'm unveiling of a future campaign to find supporters.
For the first edition of the Superspectives festival in Lyon in June-July 2019, you organized a Minimalism Night with pianist Thibaut Crassin, an impressive performance from evening to early morning. Moondog featured prominently in the program, alongside Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Morton Feldman, John Cage, Frédéric Lagnau, Arvo Pärt, John Tavener, Erik Satie and also Meredith Monk, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Brian Eno and Aphex Twin. What links do you see between all these artists, some of whom evolve in very different worlds?
Over the course of the night, I wanted to group together (with the help of Thibaut Crassin) various composers who could be lumped together under the - often rejected - term "minimalism". Some are obvious: Glass, Adams, Reich, Pärt, but for others, the link is more tenuous and depends on certain works. Cage, for example, is not a minimalist composer, but some of his works clearly are: Dream, A Room, In A Landscape. The same goes for Satie. I tried to choose composers I liked whose works met at least one criterion of the minimalist "specification": repetition, return to tonality, regular pulsation, simplicity of form, non-European inspiration and so many other "concepts" that can illustrate this trend. Granted, it's an eminently personal choice, and one that's open to debate, but it's also a way of showing just how much this movement has influenced all kinds of composers, even before it appeared... Which is paradoxical, I admit.
In this concert, you played the complete etudes by Philip Glass. On your CD, you play a large number of Moondog's piano works. Is this a characteristic working method of yours: do you enjoy immersing yourself in complete works?
Yes, I quite like the idea of immersing oneself fully in a composer's universe, but I'm not obsessed with the complete works. Playing all the Philip Glass Études makes sense, because this cycle has its own progression, a logical formal construction that wouldn't exist if they weren't all played. A bit like Chopin's Preludes. In the case of Moondog, the label I recorded for only produces monographs, and the question of including other composers didn't arise. But I don't think it would be a good idea to record the whole of Moondog on the piano; in fact, it would do him a disservice. Some composers can cope with complete recordings: Bach, Brahms and Schumann, for example, because there's no waste, but in Moondog's case, I wouldn't see any point in recording - apart from the feeling of having achieved a first - all his piano works, which are not all at the same musical level. That's a fact, and it doesn't detract from his talent. For this reason, the tracks chosen for my disc try to illustrate the different facets of Moondog. This could easily support a second and third volume. But I already know a few pieces that are not essential for a recording.
What's the reason for your infatuation with minimalist music?
No real reason. I discovered Philip Glass's Violin Concerto when I was very young, and it was obvious to me that this music was my thing. I don't really want or need to find objective reasons to defend this music, which is sometimes so disparaged by conservative circles. I love it, that's all, even if I sometimes recognize its weaknesses and repetitions. The biggest problem, in my opinion, with this music - and I'm going to be blunt - is that it's sometimes the den of mediocre musicians looking for an original niche to exist in, and then hogging this music without really liking or understanding it, just because it's less played but appeals to the public.
Interview by Guillaume Kosmicki
