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While the third edition of the Superspectives contemporary music festival is being held in Lyon, which he directs with his friend Camille Rhonat, we come back to the first disc of the young and talented pianist François Mardirossian, devoted to the works of Moondog. Passionate about minimalist music, which has coloured 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 put in front of his keyboard.
Why are you interested in Moondog, what fascinates you about his piano writing, to the point of making him the only composer played on your first record (which is no mean feat), 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 attention, I read the back cover and seeing the names of Philip Glass, Janis Joplin and Charlie Parker, I said to myself that I wanted to know more about this composer... For me, who did not know him and who hates to ignore composers or musical currents, 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! I still hadn't heard a single note of his music. I quickly discovered some tracks on the internet that I liked a lot(Mood Montreux; Elf Dance; Chaconne in A) and I contacted Amaury to get some scores. I was lucky that he answered me quickly and positively, because 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 I even adapted them for two pianos. I got in touch with a label and offered them three programmes: the Philip Glass Etudes; a solo album devoted to Alan Hovhaness ; and Moondog as a solo piano. The producer chose Moondog. I was interested in proposing that 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, I think that's the type of collection you turn to). I wanted to participate in this adventure initiated by Amaury: the rediscovery of a musical personality. And I love the minimalist movement and I feel comfortable with it pianistically.
The character itself is singular, did this also count in your choice?
Yes and no. The character is an excellent marketing argument and makes many people curious, but that's not the main thing. His music is stronger than his eccentricity. Once the curiosity about the character has passed, his music makes us forget all about his biography, and that's good, because it's a guarantee of quality for an artist. Sometimes I would like - like a pianist playing Mozart or Haydn - not to tell the story of Moondog's life and simply go on stage and play him. I don't think it would lose any intensity. I have confidence in the power of his music.
How did the process of making this CD go?
Once the label agreed, things fell into place to release this record. 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 is out in September 2019. I'm happy to have written 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 email to the label to the release of the record, it took over a year and a half. You have to be patient!
The sound of the record is very neat, can you tell us a little more about the sound recording work?
I was lucky enough to record with an extremely meticulous and knowledgeable 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 more matt sound; changing the place of the piano etc.). Pascal Perrot's piano at the Alys studio near Gap is also a beautiful instrument (a Bechstein A228), on which playing Moondog seemed to fit perfectly. We spent two and a half days and I played each piece three to five times from beginning to end, to find the right version. There are twenty-eight tracks, so I'll let you count... We wanted to avoid editing in order to preserve a naturalness that rarely exists today; this counts a lot for the quality of a record, the freshness of an interpretation. Once the piece was recorded, I would listen to it and redo it if necessary. If not, I would continue.
Reading the booklet of the disc, we notice that you seem to know Moondog's background very well. Do you always do thorough research on the artists you work with?
I'm one of those pianists who can be defined as a "geek". I have tons of sheet music, books on music, and I have a collection of over 2500 vinyl records, not including CDs. So yes, I do go into great depth about the composers I write about: biographies, various listenings, testimonies of performers etc. It is a vital need to know the person I am playing as well as possible. If you're going to spend hours behind your instrument racking your brains over works, you might as well get to know the person who forces you to do this work. This allows me to better understand the aesthetics of the composer and to better guide my playing. For example, playing Moondog's piano pieces without knowing his relationship to percussion, contrapuntal music and jazz would result in a poor, even truncated interpretation. At the moment, I'm looking into a forgotten part of French music: the Lyon school at the beginning of the last century! Composers such as Ennemond Trillat, Edouard Commette, Marcel Péhu no longer mean anything to anyone, and I have come across several of their works that I find more than interesting. So, my approach is to look in all the second-hand bookshops in Lyon for writings, old newspapers that talk about them. And of course scores. For several years I have been working on a project about Alan Hovhaness, an American composer who was a precursor of a certain minimalism in more ways than one: my next record will be devoted to his works for piano on Advitam Records (I will be recording what I am playing on 27 June 2021 at Superspectives). I'm exploring most of his piano works thanks to his widow, who sends them to me from the US. And for the past few months, I have been playing the music of a jazzman friend: Mario Stantchev (well known to the people of Lyon and Bulgaria), whom I adore and to whom I have dedicated several pieces, music that is rich in style and very touching. Mario's works are unique, in the sense that the multitude of influences in them do not prevent a sincere, innovative and intelligent music. 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.
At the first edition of the Superspectives festival in Lyon in June-July 2019, you provided a night of minimalism with pianist Thibaut Crassin, an impressive performance from evening to early morning. Moondog featured prominently in the programme, along with Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Morton Feldman, John Cage, Frédéric Lagnau, Arvo Pärt, John Tavener, Erik Satie, but also Meredith Monk, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Brian Eno and Aphex Twin. What links do you establish between all these artists, who sometimes evolve in very different worlds?
During this night, I wanted to group (in good understanding with Thibaut Crassin) around the term - often rejected by the way - "minimalism", various composers who could be gathered under this label. 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 whom I liked and whose works fulfilled at least one criterion of the minimalist 'specifications': repetition, return to tonality, regular pulsation, simplicity of form, non-European inspiration and so many other 'concepts' that can illustrate this trend. I admit that this is an eminently personal choice and that it is subject to procrastination, but it is also a way of showing to what extent this movement has been able to influence all sorts of composers, even before its appearance... Which is paradoxical, I admit.
In this concert you played the complete etudes of Philip Glass. On your disc 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 in the world of a composer, 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 would not exist if they were not all played. A bit like the Chopin Preludes. For Moondog, the label I recorded for only produces monographs, and the question of including other composers did not arise. But to record all of Moondog on the piano would not be a good idea in my opinion, it would even do him a disservice. Some composers can stand complete recordings: Bach, Brahms and Schumann, because there is 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 on the same musical level. That's a fact and it doesn't detract from his talent. For that reason, the tracks chosen on my disc try to illustrate the different facets of Moondog. This could easily support a second and third volume. But I already know some pieces that are not essential for a recording.
What is the reason for your infatuation with minimalist music?
No real reason. I discovered Philip Glass's Violin Concerto at a very young age and it was obvious to me that this music is very important. I don't really want or need to find objective reasons to defend this music that is sometimes so disparaged by conservative circles. I just like it, even if I sometimes recognise its weaknesses and repetitions. The biggest problem, in my opinion, with this music - and I'm going to be blunt - is that it is sometimes the den of mediocre musicians who are looking for an original niche to exist in and then hogging this music without really loving and understanding it, just because it is less played but appeals to the public.
Interview by Guillaume Kosmicki
