INTERVIEW | Seong-Jin Cho (Series Part 1) | "I used to cry whenever I didn’t like my performance"

In conversation with Seong-Jin Cho (Part 1); 조성진 인터뷰 시리즈 (1부)
Interviewed in Berlin on 25 January 2020.

Seong-Jin Cho, © Christoph Köstlin / DG

When I chatted with pianist Seong-Jin Cho last year March at London's Barbican Centre, our half an hour exchange proved a rare glimpse into the life of the pianist. In what turned out to be both an informal and informative discussion, the thoughtful nature of Seong-Jin was balanced effortlessly against a self-effacingly witty side. Should interviews ideally be experienced and read as they were part of a play where characters exchange smart thoughts with even smarter words, one could draw in Seong-Jin a soft-spoken, strong-spirited protagonist.

After publishing our conversation, it felt only natural that the interview was to be followed-up; there was still much to talk about. Alas, the tip of an iceberg says little of the magnitude kept submerged. Thus 10 months later, a passage of time that felt neither short nor long ("It feels many things happened ... [a]t the same time, it feels nothing much has happened", as Seong-Jin says), I met Seong-Jin in Berlin in a bustling yet easy-going café, to mark the start of a series of interviews.

In his mid-20s, Seong-Jin promises unquantifiable prospects. As much as many things are to inevitably come from Seong-Jin, it is my intention to capture and document the earlier parts of the pianist's life, while I hope memories of those times still linger freshly in his mind. Before Seong-Jin's memorable, often whimsical tales with the likes of Krystian Zimerman and Radu Lupu were shared in this still, wintery Berlin afternoon, we started talking about taking private lessons from Alfred Brendel, the nature of interviewing, and some of Seong-Jin's earliest memories of music.

I.

Young-Jin Hur (YH): Thank you for making time. I chatted with you back in March last year, and the resulting interview was incredibly popular, with 2600 hits within a week of its release. One way or another, it is good to see you again. How have you been since then?

Seong-Jin Cho (SC): Time has really flown by. That must have been already 10 months ago. It feels many things happened in my life during these months. At the same time, it feels nothing much has happened (YH laughs).

YH: We met at the Barbican Centre in London last year (SC nods). Have you been to London since then?

SC: Since my concert in March, I returned to London to perform at the BBC Proms. I’ve also visited London twice to receive private lessons from Alfred Brendel. London is a city that can make visitors feel comfortable because it is so international.

YH: What things do you learn in your lessons with Alfred Brendel?

SC: For instance, I learned all five of Beethoven’s piano concertos from him. While Alfred Brendel is an incredibly open-minded person, he is very specific about pieces he teaches. Ultimately, it is up to me to take up his ideas or not. Yet to be in his presence directly hearing his thoughts is a fascinating and rewarding experience. In particular, Alfred Brendel is immensely logical in explaining decisions regarding tempi, certain expressions, and rubatos, and overall, in portraying the meaning of a piece.

YH: Do you talk much about technicalities during these lessons?

SC: Rather than going too deep into technical details, we talk much about general tempo choices. In the case of Beethoven, there are a lot of ambiguities regarding tempo markings. For example, Beethoven sometimes instructs to play a slow Adagio movement in a flowing rhythm of Alla breve, in 2/2 that is. Here is where a lot of interpretation comes in. Czerny – a pupil of Beethoven – gave metronome markings for Beethoven’s works to solve these tempo ambiguities, for instance. But nothing is straightforward. I think this is what also makes Beethoven pieces difficult to play. Alfred Brendel brings much insight into these matters.

YH: If there is much room for interpretation, surely your lessons from Alfred Brendel would bring a difference.

SC: Yes.

YH: If that is the case, does it ever worry you that your interpretations might become too similar to those of Alfred Brendel, meaning that you might not be pursuing what is truly original?

SC: Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever worried about that. From a young age, I’ve rarely been influenced unilaterally by someone through lessons. Perhaps this has something to do with my inborn stubbornness. That said, I can remember times I picked up things from recordings.

YH: What draws the difference between receiving a lesson from someone and learning through recordings?

SC: I am sure this will differ across people and situations. In the case of a former teacher Michel Béroff, he never explicitly demonstrates his own personal take on pieces. So in this scenario, there is little to worry about regarding imitating the teacher too much. On the other hand, Alfred Brendel’s method of teaching involves him showing me how he would play a piece. While Alfred Brendel’s recordings inevitably reflect his own teachings, the baseline is that it is up to me to filter out information from others. 

On the other hand, if there is a recording I really like, I try to imitate the playing in that recording. It’s something I used to do especially a lot when I was young.

YH: If you decide to, in your own words, “filter out” some of Alfred Brendel teachings, do you ever mention them to him directly?

SC: Of course I don’t. Those decisions stay only with me.

(both laugh)

II.

YH: Given that we are here to start a series of interviews, I would like to ask you this: what do interviews mean to you generally?

SC: Uhm… I am not too sure. From a young age, I’ve had many opportunities to be interviewed. Given that I’ve won the Hamamatsu Competition in 2009, this means I’ve been doing interviews for more than 10 years now. Because I usually don’t know the audience of my interviews, I feel I’ve always been careful with my answers. To a certain degree, I still am. For the outside world, my interviews represent reflections of myself. Especially because I am not the type of person to speak fearlessly in public, I am wary of certain word choices and what I bring up. But recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I am going to speak publically anyway, I might as well speak my mind.

Perhaps there is also a problem in the questions themselves. For 10 years, I’ve mostly been asked a similar set of questions, and those questions do not often give me the opportunity to talk about myself and show myself in a clear light. In reality, it’s actually fine to be asked personal and sensitive questions. But many interviewers seem to avoid these questions.

YH: Are there questions you are particularly interested in being asked?

SC: That’s not to say that I have any specific questions in mind at the moment. And that also does not mean that I will necessarily welcome any question.

(both laugh)

YH: It doesn't sound like you enjoy interviews.

SC: Not really. In all honesty, I often feel bored because the questions are somewhat predictable. Besides, 70-80% of interviews are for PR purposes for specific performances or recordings. So most of the time, I end up talking about specific pieces. It’s not that I don’t like these interviews, I just find them rather boring.

YH: In interviews, do you also feel you could have expressed yourself better had the interview been in Korean? I am thinking of German and English interviews, in particular.

SC: German is a language I cannot speak, so I cannot comment much on German interviews. I have no issues with being interviewed in English. Yet this may also have to do with the fact that in English, the old problem of being asked similar questions occurs. Because I know what kind of questions are coming, and because I feel I’ve rehearsed the answers to these questions from many previous interviews, my replies in English can sound rather smooth.

(both laugh)

SC: I admit that I don’t think much during some of these interviews, and I can go through a conversation almost in autopilot mode. Needless to say, I am most comfortable when I speak Korean. But regardless of the language, if the questions are predictable, my answer quality does not differ across languages.

(both laugh)

YH: I guess that puts a lot of pressure on me now. I will have to ask you questions are that are intriguing and sensitive enough, but not too personal as to embarrass you.

(both laugh)

YH: Do you perhaps learn about your own development as an artist through interviews?

SC: Occasionally, I read interviews I have done in the past. When I do this, there are times I notice how much I have changed. This can be about music or about general life-related things. I suppose I can say I learn about myself through observing these changes.

YH: I can also imagine that what you think about your own playing and how you play are two different things. Is there a way you can really tap into your pure musical developments?

SC: This is something that is not easy to talk about, because I am rarely fully aware of how my playing itself changes. If I listen to my playing from 10 years ago, there is an unmistakable sense that I do not play like that anymore. But these changes are natural and organic, and I have never imposed upon myself certain conscious efforts to change my musicality. Likewise, my future self from 10 years later will also notice a development in my playing style. Yet my audiences will likely be more sensitive about these changes than I am myself.

YH: I agree. You are not always how you think you are (SC nods). For example, what are the chances that someone who tells people “I am a really good person” turns out to be actually good, whatever this "good" may mean?

(both laugh)

YH: In the same logic, I am increasingly convinced that there is a disconnection between what is thought about reality and what is reality. I suppose this also says something about the limits of verbal descriptions in general.

III.

YH: I’d now like to ask you some questions about your childhood. What are some of your earliest memories concerning music?

SC: I didn’t grow up in a household surrounded by musical recordings – this is something I’ve mentioned already a few times in several interviews. In my recollection, the first piece I came across in my life was Mozart’s G minor symphony (SC hums the beginning of the first movement of K. 550).

YH: What were your first impressions of the symphony, if you can remember?

SC: I think I liked it. I melody had remained in my mind for a long time.

YH: In our previous interview, you also mentioned that your parents were never too fond of music.

SC: They liked music, but I cannot say they knew too much about classical music.

YH: Your recollections circle predominantly around classical music. How important was non-classical music in your childhood?

SC: We had a few LPs of non-classical music, and they were recordings of singers that were popular at the time. Unfortunately, I never reached out to these pop music LPs. We had a collection of classical music CDs, and my father enjoyed listening to these CDs.

YH: How would you describe the CD collection?

SC: I think there were mainly recordings of symphonies. Even so, he didn’t know the classical music world too much. At home, I was the only one who seemed to be serious about classical music.

YH: And how did you first come across the piano?

SC: My mother used to play the piano as a hobby; she would play pieces like ‘For Elise.’ When she married my father and moved in with him, she brought the piano with her. Perhaps because the piano was always in the house and as I assume I inadvertently played around with the piano’s keyboard from infancy, I do not recall when I first consciously played the piano. Interestingly, I recently found a childhood photograph of myself. Although I do not remember this moment personally, I can see myself sitting by the piano and playing it in the photograph.

YH: How old were you in the photograph?

SC: Let me have a think (SC takes out his phone to look up the photograph, and soon finds it). (Referring to the photograph he produced on his phone's screen) Yes, this is me, and I am sitting by the piano together with my cousin. (Reading the date that is indicated on the original print photograph) I think I would have been 4 years old then. This was definitely before I consciously started playing the piano.

YH: Do you then remember the first time you played the piano properly?

SC: That would have been when I was 6 years old, while I was in kindergarten. Several parents organised a group lesson with a piano teacher nearby. So I attended a 6-months course with some of my friends. Well, that’s what I am told – I actually don’t remember this time part of my life much.

(both laugh)

SC: Of course, I do remember some scenes as snapshots. I remember the building where the lessons took place. I also remember learning about the basics of score reading. The teacher would take our hands and physically guide us on how to press the keyboard. After those 6 months, I was able to play some nursery rhymes and read score.

[Note. It is refreshing to know that established musicians had a start at some point. How mysterious life is, that all beginnings may look alike, be it the first piano lesson of a future banker, future lawyer, or a future doctor. I include myself here too, as I also once had my first piano lesson, albeit in a different time and place as SC, and mostly in wildly differing circumstances of endowed talent and motivation. If I, at best an aspiring amateur in front of the keyboard, share something musical with SC, I am content to know that some communion of a sort occurred in the opening few minutes of our respective first piano lessons.]

SC: It was then that the teacher told my mother that I should progress to taking private lessons, as the teacher thought I displayed a good understanding of the instrument. To this, my mother set up a private lesson. Even at this point, there was nothing too serious. The teacher came once a week to our house and each lesson lasted one hour. There was hardly any homework or practice, and the sole reason behind the lessons was to keep me from losing what I had learned in the 6 months during the group lessons. I must have done these lessons until I was 7 years old.

YH: Was it rare at the time for teachers to suggest private lessons?

SC: I was told that of the group that took the initial 6-months course, I was the only person who was recommended these extra tuitions. Maybe there was something in me that the teacher noticed that didn’t exist in others. I don’t know what they could have possibly seen in me (SC laughs).

YH: Were you particularly good in musical memory, for example, compared to your peers?

SC: To my recollection, I was more motivated than my peers. I remember I was keen to learn pieces beyond what we were taught. Essentially, I liked the piano more than how much my peers liked it.

YH: I can imagine you also practised more than your peers?

SC: Not particularly…

(both laugh)

SC: … but during the lessons, I think I was more passionate than the others.

[Note. Some of my interviewees, Nikolai Lugansky and Sumi Jo (the latter, unpublished of yet), for instance, mentioned their lack of practice compared to their peers.]

IV.

YH: Didn’t you also play the violin around the time you started your piano lessons?

SC: Yes. This happened probably around the time I was taking these private lessons. I requested for violin lessons in addition, but this was purely out of my own will. You may also call it a form of greed of me wanting to learn more. I do not remember why it was the violin in particular, however. So around the time, I started my private piano tuitions, we got into contact with a violin tutor through my piano tutor.

The violin tutor was a very passionate person and was quite well known through the Korean music circle. Not long after the start of my tuition with this tutor, I was suggested to apply for official competitions.

YH: Does this mean you had an exceptional talent in the violin?

SC: No. I think it was more about setting a goal and thereby increasing my violin playing motivation.

YH: Was it usual that kids at that age apply for competitions?

SC: Surprisingly, this is not unusual in Korea. In any case, this lead me to play at my first ever music-related competition. In fact, I applied for both piano and violin in the same competition (YH exclaims). It was a local competition run by YMCA; there, I didn’t win anything for my piano playing, but I won a small award for the violin.

YH: So at the age of 7, you win a violin award and also have a respected violin teacher. You could have continued with the violin. What made you switch to the piano?

SC: Yes, it is true that I had achieved more with the violin then. But even so, I thought I was better at the piano. Simply put, I found it easier to play the piano. I say this half-jokingly, but I think I found the piano easier because I could play the instrument whilst sat down. On the contrary, I did not find it easy to play an instrument whilst standing up, which is what you do when you play the violin. I felt more comfortable with the piano; if I could practice the violin for 30 minutes, I could practise the piano for 1 hour.

[Note. In my previous interview with Angela Hewitt, she also mentioned of playing both the violin and the piano when young, but of selecting the piano for similar reasons as given by SC.]

SC: I should also mention this. A year after my first competition, when I was in the second year of elementary/primary school, I applied for the Eumyoun Competition (음연콩쿨), which was a renowned competition in Korea. In this competition, I went further in the piano than the violin. 

I have fond memories of this Eumyoun Competition (SC grins). During the finals, I sat with my mother next to the parents of other competitors. At some point, my mother decided to address our neighbours. “May I ask you something?”, she started, to which the strangers looked back in surprise by the unexpected approach. This was a slightly embarrassing situation for me, as I found no grace in such parental intervention, and I am sure the recipients of the question thought similarly.

(both laugh)

“Yes sure, what do you want to ask?”, one of them eventually returned.

“This Eumyoun Competition… is it a worthy competition?”

(both laugh)

To this question, everyone burst out laughing, not without a certain level of condescension toward my mother.

YH: (uneasily) I see.

SC: Of course, I didn’t make it past the second stage in this particular competition (SC laughs).

(both laugh)

SC: This shows just how naive I was regarding many aspects in the piano-playing world. In contrast, the other competitors seemed so well-informed and musically mature. I recall vividly how professional the eventual winner of the competition sounded. The winner’s Clementi Sonatina was incredibly musical. My efforts were completely dwarfed, in comparison.

YH: What piece did you play in that competition?

SC: I played a Sonatina by Kuhlau. I made a number of slips because I was nervous. After my performance, and knowing how underwhelming my performance was, I cried backstage.

YH: That shows how passionate you were.

SC: This episode of being nervous on stage certainly made me practice more than before. In particular, I started focusing more on the piano.

The year after, I competed for the Samick Piano Competition (삼익/자일러 피아노 콩쿨). As the previous competition, this was an arrangement that was set up through the recommendation of my violin tutor. Again, I made it to the finals for the piano, but this time reached as far as the third stage. In the first stage, I had played Bach (Inventions and Sinfonias), and in the second and third stage, I had played Sonatinas. I recall being surprised at the other competitors; while I was practising with Sonatinas in the practice rooms, some of them were practising with Chopin’s Scherzos.

(both laugh)

YH: This must have affected your confidence negatively.

SC: Absolutely. I was devastated. I was convinced I was not good at the piano. This must have been May, 2003. 

In the summer that year, I was accepted as part of a youth programme at Seoul Arts Center for promising musicians (예술의전당 영재 아카데미). It was either that my father researched about this programme himself, or that he was made aware of this programme through my violin tutor. In any case, my father was becoming increasingly cognisant of my musical passions around this time. Even if piano playing were not to become my main profession, I think he wished to accommodate and support my interests. I was never short of options at the time. I was topping my class for non-musical subjects, for instance.

YH: Was there a non-musical class subject you liked in particular?

SC: I liked mathematics. I had competed in a number of mathematical competitions, too, alongside music-related competitions. When I had to be in bed due to illness, I used to solve mathematical problems for fun (YH laughs in amazement).

YH: And you’re not referring to Sudoku?

(both laugh)

SC: No, no. From a young age, I didn’t like subjects where I had to memorise things. I didn’t like sociology for this reason (SC laughs).

YH: One can say you’re more of a STEM person than a humanities person.

SC: Possibly. Everyone is my family is orientated toward STEM subjects. My father studied engineering, for example.

YH: Is it possible that musicians have a tendency for STEM subjects? As I read biographical texts across musicians, I detect a tendency for mathematical or scientific fascinations among them. But I might be mistaken.

SC: I think music requires some form of mathematical thinking. In the case of Bach, I think there is an incredibly mathematical and logical side to his music. In the end, I think music is about finding a good balance between logic and emotion, and the mathematical and words.

[Note. It nevertheless occurs to me that logic and emotion, while they are often portrayed as opposites, do not necessarily mean only one can exist at a time. For example, mathematicians are thoroughly passionate about their science of numbers and logic; passion, no matter its context, is a form of emotion. In life in general, to what degree are opposites truly mutually exclusive? To what extent is it true that one can experience joy in melancholy, strength in softness, and the comic in the tragic? In what ways are some of these opposites subtle truths, mere poetic bluff, or one-off cherry-picked exceptions? Whatever the case is, I agree with SC. Artistic expression requires a sense of balance across various faculties of the mind, whatever those faculties may be in relation to each other.]

YH: Were you an emotionally rich person as a child, perhaps compared to your peers?

SC: (SC pauses for a while) I don’t know. What I do know is that in any form of piano competition or performance… I used to cry whenever I didn’t like my performance.

YH: You mentioned your violin tutor a number of times, and it appears that your tutor had a large influence on your early development. Are you still in contact with your tutor?

SC: Not really. We contacted each other, I think, immediately before my 2015 International Chopin Piano Competition. It’s been some time. That was when I was studying in Paris.

V.

YH: So we broke off earlier from you entering the Seoul Arts Center youth programme. 

SC: The Seoul Arts Center programme was a programme I started when I was around 10. Here, I met Professor Park Sook-Ryeun (박숙련), and this was the first time I took up lessons by a university professor. Because there was nothing notable in my achievements regarding winning competitions up until that point, from 2004 I trained hard under the new guidance of Professor Park. In this new regime, I practised 2-3 hours per day, adopting more professional methodologies such as Hanon exercises. I am sure there were others who practised more than I did, but I did what I could. Sooner or later, I saw a rapid development in my skills. And while I was still nervous in public performances, I could notice that I was more in control of my playing. 

To elaborate more on my public performances, one of the most innovative systems of the Seoul Arts Center youth programme was the incorporation of performance opportunities. Every Saturday, we were given the chance to perform publically, whereby we'd perform a piece in front of an audience. The students had to personally register for these performances, and in my eagerness to gain performance experience, I requested for these Saturday concerts as much as I could.

The next competition I entered was the Korea Chopin Competition for youth (쇼팽 청소년콩쿨) in 2004. I played the first Waltz then. And although I cried afterwards because I was unhappy with my performance (SC laughs), I somehow won the third-place prize for the piano category. This was the first time I had ever won an award. Despite my tears, and although I came third, this result really made me happy. Since then, and save for one competition, I won every time I competed in an official competition.

The next notable moment came in 2005 when performed my first solo recital for the Kumho Young Talent Concert series (금호영재콘서트). This was when I was 11. One could only play once passing an audition. I was re-invited to play the next year. Then I entered Yewon School (예원학교), a secondary school specialising in the arts. Here, I passed the school's music entrance exam as the second-highest scorer of the year. 

YH: How were you as a student at Yewon School? Were you the popular type or the more quiet type?

SC: In Yewon School, I was happy. Before Yewon, I had lived with the impression that I didn't have many friends at school. I wouldn't say I was bullied in elementary/primary school, but I had kids that had jokingly harassed me occasionally. Another difficulty in my elementary/primary school was that I rarely had peers or teachers who knew about music, so I found it difficult to converse with like-minded people.

YH: Was it the case that they were jealous of your achievements?

SC: I don't think my peers knew about my musical activities at that point. Now that I think of it, I don't think I talked to my peers that much at all. No one, including my teachers, knew the details of my achievements at piano competitions, and neither were they interested in places like Yewon School. 

All this was a big contrast in Yewon School. The classes consisted of people who were serious about either music, art, or dance. I revelled in being able to talk with comfort with my peers, and I was able to make many friends. Generally, I found myself much more emotionally healthy in this new environment.

YH: When you say you were able to engage with your peers with more comfort, did this happen because you could talk about music? Or did this happen because you all shared a certain artistic sensibility in general?

SC: I think that we all lived by similar lifestyles, challenged by similar things, brought us together. After all, every one of us had to practice hard. We all had to push ourselves to enter competitions, and we all knew the feeling of being nervous on stage (SC laughs). This united us, and this brought me comfort.

YH: I can see a battlefield comradery here! (SC nods)

(both laugh)

YH: In this new environment where you started to systematically train yourself more than ever, was there a composer you felt most attached to?

SC: Gustav Mahler.

YH: (in surprise) Mahler?!

[To be continued in Part 2.]

Seong-Jin Cho, © Christoph Köstlin / DG

[Click here for my previous interview with Seong-Jin Cho.]

Young-Jin Hur

@yjhur1885

© Where Cherries Ripen / Young-Jin Hur