INTERVIEW | Stephen Hough | "Music is healing for the soul and should be open to all, free for all"
In conversation with Stephen Hough
It is said that “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” Indeed, there is something unnerving in the act of talking about music because no words, however articulate, can reproduce a piece of music. Music, an independent language operating on its own sets of vocabulary and syntax, can be fully represented only through the language of music production itself.
Of course, music's independence from words is also a source of its unique strengths. The beauties of, for example, Mozart's Jupiter symphony is instantly and instinctively possible universally, in Moscow and in Seoul, as much as in Salzburg. One is not required to speak German to experience the Austrian composer's uplifting musical essay. In fact, the fluency of one's verbal language being entirely irrelevant with one's musical engagement means that infants can start enjoying music long before they can even speak (see here). It is in this context that Jean Sibelius' oft-quoted, "music begins where words end", can be interpreted as an ode to music's wordless, all-encompassing generosity.
Yet however limiting and misleading words often can prove to be, words are in the end essential - and are perhaps the most efficient way - in communicating thoughts and emotions. To imagine sharing great musical revelations without the use of words is unthinkable. Words are the living evidence of passion. By attaching words onto the abstract and individual joys of music, music's joys become shareable; the dance brightens the architecture.
In Mr Stephen Hough, we find a world-renowned pianist whose artistry also embraces a talent for words. In addition to his award-winning recordings, Mr Hough has also written a number of literary works, from fiction to poetry. His latest publication, Rough Ideas, a collection of personal thoughts, has been honoured a place in the 2019 Financial Times Best Books.
Mr Hough being vastly experienced (certainly, an understatement) in both worlds of music and words, I thought it would be enlightening to ask Mr Hough how music may link with certain ideas. I asked Mr Hough of the relationship between music and politics, the ideas of responsibility and ecstasy in music, how to talk about music, and the relationship between different forms of art. The answers by Mr Hough reflect a sensitive thoughtfulness painted throughout his beautifully written Rough Ideas.
Young-Jin Hur (YH): You have recently published Rough Ideas. How did the initial conception of the publication take shape?
Stephen Hough (SH): I’ve always jotted down ideas and thoughts. Sometime these have been extensive or poetic, other times just one line or one phrase. Then a number of years ago I was asked if I’d like to keep a blog on the Telegraph website. I thought this could be fun, although I wasn’t sure how much I could write or how often. I ended up writing over 600 articles in under six years. Most of these posts were topical and disposable, but some were of continuing interest to me. The blog became a sort of depository of notes and although the blog site was discontinued (indeed, deleted) I had the framework for a book like Rough Ideas. Nothing remained the same but the skeleton was all there. The process of editing was much harder than I'd thought - combining ideas, removing duplications, creating a unified style.
YH: In the book, you seem to take a stance that politics should be separated from music performances. This may go against views that art (or artists) has a social responsibility, and certainly goes against Hans Werner Henze’s view that music must promote some form of political message. How do you reconcile your views to these thoughts?
YH: Someone once said that “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” In general, are there things we talk too much about in music and things we do not talk enough in music?
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| Stephen Hough, © Sim Canetty-Clarke |
It is said that “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” Indeed, there is something unnerving in the act of talking about music because no words, however articulate, can reproduce a piece of music. Music, an independent language operating on its own sets of vocabulary and syntax, can be fully represented only through the language of music production itself.
Of course, music's independence from words is also a source of its unique strengths. The beauties of, for example, Mozart's Jupiter symphony is instantly and instinctively possible universally, in Moscow and in Seoul, as much as in Salzburg. One is not required to speak German to experience the Austrian composer's uplifting musical essay. In fact, the fluency of one's verbal language being entirely irrelevant with one's musical engagement means that infants can start enjoying music long before they can even speak (see here). It is in this context that Jean Sibelius' oft-quoted, "music begins where words end", can be interpreted as an ode to music's wordless, all-encompassing generosity.
Yet however limiting and misleading words often can prove to be, words are in the end essential - and are perhaps the most efficient way - in communicating thoughts and emotions. To imagine sharing great musical revelations without the use of words is unthinkable. Words are the living evidence of passion. By attaching words onto the abstract and individual joys of music, music's joys become shareable; the dance brightens the architecture.
In Mr Stephen Hough, we find a world-renowned pianist whose artistry also embraces a talent for words. In addition to his award-winning recordings, Mr Hough has also written a number of literary works, from fiction to poetry. His latest publication, Rough Ideas, a collection of personal thoughts, has been honoured a place in the 2019 Financial Times Best Books.
Mr Hough being vastly experienced (certainly, an understatement) in both worlds of music and words, I thought it would be enlightening to ask Mr Hough how music may link with certain ideas. I asked Mr Hough of the relationship between music and politics, the ideas of responsibility and ecstasy in music, how to talk about music, and the relationship between different forms of art. The answers by Mr Hough reflect a sensitive thoughtfulness painted throughout his beautifully written Rough Ideas.
I.
Young-Jin Hur (YH): You have recently published Rough Ideas. How did the initial conception of the publication take shape?
Stephen Hough (SH): I’ve always jotted down ideas and thoughts. Sometime these have been extensive or poetic, other times just one line or one phrase. Then a number of years ago I was asked if I’d like to keep a blog on the Telegraph website. I thought this could be fun, although I wasn’t sure how much I could write or how often. I ended up writing over 600 articles in under six years. Most of these posts were topical and disposable, but some were of continuing interest to me. The blog became a sort of depository of notes and although the blog site was discontinued (indeed, deleted) I had the framework for a book like Rough Ideas. Nothing remained the same but the skeleton was all there. The process of editing was much harder than I'd thought - combining ideas, removing duplications, creating a unified style.
YH: In the book, you seem to take a stance that politics should be separated from music performances. This may go against views that art (or artists) has a social responsibility, and certainly goes against Hans Werner Henze’s view that music must promote some form of political message. How do you reconcile your views to these thoughts?
SH: I totally respect those who want to use art for a specific political message, and often that message is the art - one thinks of certain writers or painters, of course. But I do think that music is a form of communication which transcends politics. Its timeless abstraction is part of its allure. Does the music of Mozart, Chopin, Brahms, Debussy mean anything? I have a horror of preaching - even if I did consider the priesthood at one point! Maybe because I considered the priesthood I’m allergic to and fearful of, self-righteousness, fixed opinions, simple answers. I believe passionately in the equality of all human beings and loathe snobbery and prejudice… but beyond that, I don’t feel it is my place as a musician to impose further political or religious views. If I were a doctor on a battlefield I would not withhold my services from people with whom I disagreed. Music is healing for the soul and should be open to all, free for all.
(Note. Mr Hough's view that music should heal is comparable to Mr Philippe Herreweghe's view that music should console and Mr Osmo Vänskä's view that music should give hope.)
YH: What do you think is the main responsibility of a musician, and do you think this has changed over the years?
(Note. Mr Hough's view that music should heal is comparable to Mr Philippe Herreweghe's view that music should console and Mr Osmo Vänskä's view that music should give hope.)
YH: What do you think is the main responsibility of a musician, and do you think this has changed over the years?
SH: ‘Responsibility' sounds very serious and full of obligations! My main desire in a concert is that I can share a deep conversation with the audience, that we can be friends (dare I say, lovers?) for the two hours. Music joins us together, from many backgrounds and cultures, and enables us to have a sort of intimacy for a while.
(Note. The topic of artistic responsibility has appeared numerously in my previous interviews, e.g. Mr Jakub Hrůša, Mr Philippe Herreweghe, and Mr Iván Fischer.)
(Note. The topic of artistic responsibility has appeared numerously in my previous interviews, e.g. Mr Jakub Hrůša, Mr Philippe Herreweghe, and Mr Iván Fischer.)
II.
YH: Someone once said that “talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” In general, are there things we talk too much about in music and things we do not talk enough in music?
SH: As long as we talk from love, enthusiasm, and wonder, I think it’s fine. I read some people's writing about music and I can tell they’re out of love, bored, cynical … and that’s terrible. On the contrary, some elderly teachers or critics are still thrilled by the music they have known for a lifetime and that’s the best base from which to comment. Everyone should feel free to respond as they feel to music. Some will react on a very basic emotional level and others will delve deep into the musicological structure of a work. Both are good.
(Note. See my interview with Mr Nikolai Lugansky, for a slightly different tone of answer to the same question.)
YH: Some philosophers (e.g. Edmund Burke) talk about lofty aesthetic experiences using the word sublime. In their characterisations of the sublime, there is fear in an overwhelmingly powerful aesthetic experiences (e.g. standing in front of mountains). Relatedly, conductor Jonathan Nott, in a BBC Radio 3 interview, said: "You're afraid at the end of Brahms, I think, if you do it properly, and you're afraid at the end of Bruckner, even though you've really got it, and you're certainly afraid at the end of Mahler." Have you personally experienced fear in great musical performances?
(Note. See my interview with Mr Nikolai Lugansky, for a slightly different tone of answer to the same question.)
YH: Some philosophers (e.g. Edmund Burke) talk about lofty aesthetic experiences using the word sublime. In their characterisations of the sublime, there is fear in an overwhelmingly powerful aesthetic experiences (e.g. standing in front of mountains). Relatedly, conductor Jonathan Nott, in a BBC Radio 3 interview, said: "You're afraid at the end of Brahms, I think, if you do it properly, and you're afraid at the end of Bruckner, even though you've really got it, and you're certainly afraid at the end of Mahler." Have you personally experienced fear in great musical performances?
SH: I'm not sure about fear. I would only feel fear in front of a mountain if I thought an avalanche was about to smother me! Awe though … reverence, wonder, a heart-expandingness. With music, my only fear really is forgetting or having a major breakdown in a performance.
YH: Are there some thoughts you made since the publication of the book, that could have made it into the book?
YH: Are there some thoughts you made since the publication of the book, that could have made it into the book?
SH: Certainly. But you’ll have to wait for the next volume to find out what they are!
YH: You’ve published a novel before and also have won the Sixth International Poetry Competition. As a musician, do you think there is something that all great artforms promote or have in common, regardless of their genre or medium of expression?
III.
YH: You’ve published a novel before and also have won the Sixth International Poetry Competition. As a musician, do you think there is something that all great artforms promote or have in common, regardless of their genre or medium of expression?
SH: I think there is a furnace in the basement (let’s call it the poetic) and from there, various radiators are heated, in various rooms whether music, literature, painting. Poetry (words reaching beyond words) is common to them all. This ‘reaching’ beyond us is something spiritual and can often be specifically religious in expression. If there’s something outside ourselves (or someone) to grasp, to aim for, to address, to thank, to embrace (and be embraced by), then perhaps the art will be more meaningful, will flow better/higher. How sad that religion, which should be a source of liberty and ecstasy, is too often a burden and a source of neurosis. I’ve spoken of ecstasy. I’ve never taken drugs but this desire to step outside of ourselves is part of the highest art. It isn’t so much to escape ourselves as to lead ourselves to a more intense experience of beauty and joy. It can make us breathless (I had this yesterday looking at an Antonello painting at the National Gallery) but then it’s oxygen too.
YH: Do you believe in fate?
YH: Do you believe in fate?
SH: Not at all, rather in freedom. But that’s partly a Christian reflex on my part. I don’t think anything (except other humans and the resulting circumstances) ultimately has control over us.
YH: What are qualities you prefer in people? Do you have these qualities?
YH: What are qualities you prefer in people? Do you have these qualities?
SH: I would say kindness. I try never to be deliberately unkind but there’s always room for improvement!
YH: Many years from now, if you knew you’d be giving one final recital or concert, what pieces would you play? And why? Would there be anything unusual you would like to try in this concert?
YH: Many years from now, if you knew you’d be giving one final recital or concert, what pieces would you play? And why? Would there be anything unusual you would like to try in this concert?
SH: Interesting question! The idea of a final concert is one of pressure for me… and sadness. Like saying farewell to someone I love. I hope that I can keep postponing that final concert until, until…
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| Stephen Hough, © Robert Torres |
Young-Jin Hur
@yjhur1885