INTERVIEW | Bruce Liu | "artists need silence in their own lives, so that when we return to the keyboard, we really have something to say"

In conversation with Bruce Liu

Interview conducted in July 2025

Bruce Liu, © Christopher Koestlin

It would appear logical that winning the Chopin Piano Competition would lead an artist to release their first studio album, in which Chopin's music would be the centrepiece or at least a part. Yet this apparent formula seems not to hold for Bruce Liu, winner of the 18th Chopin Piano Competition. 

When the pianist released a much-awaited first studio album in 2023, Waves, it featured an innovative juxtaposition of French music spanning almost two centuries, from Rameau to Ravel, and the music of Alkan, the latter of which is a rarity in the piano repertoire. A follow-up digital extension of the same album included Satie's Gnossiennes played on two pianos to highlight timbral textures of the same musical content. 

Bruce Liu has since turned his attention to another set of repertoire off the beaten path, recording Tchaikovsky's The Seasons as part of his second studio album (2024) and now debuting at the BBC Proms this summer with Tchaikovsky's Second Piano Concerto. Be it the repertoire or the instrument, Bruce Liu's recent activities thus reveal an experimental artist in the best sense, one who is able to merge innovation with the beauty of execution, and exploration with the enduring relevance of tradition. 

This subtle inquisitiveness of Bruce Liu became apparent in my interview with him. Whenever I sensed the pianist's juggling between the familiar and the unfamiliar, it was all in service of the music and in pursuit of an expression that was personal, poetic, and, ultimately, emotionally satisfying. All of this was spoken in calm repose, with the richness of thought between the spoken words palpable but not audible. 

Below is a transcript of the interview. Minor edits have been made to improve readability.

[Note. All interviews on the website are approved by the interviewee or manager prior to publication.]

I.

Young-Jin Hur (YH): Congratulations on your BBC Proms debut. How are you feeling about the upcoming performance?

Bruce Liu (BL): I'm incredibly honoured and excited about it. It’s such a legendary festival with a rich history, and to be part of it feels quite surreal. I’ve watched so many amazing performances from the BBC Proms over the years, so now to be on that stage myself is very special. You know, it's always a similar feeling, but every time something like this comes along, it still gives you an amazing joy and a sense of excitement, no matter how often you’re on stage. It has such a unique atmosphere. So I'm grateful, as always, to have the chance to connect with listeners who are so passionate about classical music.

YH: Could you please tell us how you put together the programme?

BL: Yes, when putting together the programme, I wanted to create something that felt both personal and engaging for the audience, something that showcased a wide range of colours and emotions. I always try to find a balance between works that are well-loved and those that are a bit less familiar but equally powerful. It’s very important to me that each piece has its own voice, but also speaks to one another in a meaningful way.

When I was putting this together, I wanted to include a piece that’s emotionally rich and a bit unexpected. That’s how Tchaikovsky’s Second Concerto came to mind. I’ve always been fascinated by its structure and the way it gives space not just to the piano but also to the orchestra... even to the violin and cello in the second movement. It’s incredible because it’s almost like chamber music within a concerto. I think that will be exciting to bring to the BBC Proms. It’s very expressive and really suits the atmosphere of the Royal Albert Hall. I hope audiences can discover and rediscover it.

YH: I’ve noticed that you’ve been programming Tchaikovsky’s piano music quite often lately, including on your second studio album, The Seasons. Given that Tchaikovsky’s piano works apart from the First Piano Concerto are not considered standard repertoire, is this an effort on your part to champion his music? Or do you generally prefer to perform works outside the standard canon?

BL: That’s a great observation. I think Tchaikovsky’s music has always spoken to me in a personal way. Of course, his First Piano Concerto is a staple, but beyond that, there’s so much emotional richness and subtle poetry in his lesser-known works, like The Seasons and the Second Piano Concerto. I wouldn’t say I’m on a specific mission to champion his music, but I do feel a natural draw to pieces that are sometimes slightly off the beaten path. There’s something deeply rewarding about sharing music that isn’t often heard in concert halls.

If I perform Tchaikovsky, it gives audiences a chance to discover a different style and side of a composer they might think they already know. And what's rewarding is that Tchaikovsky is more widely known as a ballet or symphonic composer. There’s also a deep connection with poetry and literature in his music, and I gain a lot of inspiration from that. When playing his music, I often feel like I have a whole orchestra in my hands to achieve all the colours and sounds needed. At the same time, I’m not trying to move away from or distance myself from the standard repertoire.

I just think it’s very important as an artist to keep exploring and to remain curious. It’s not really about escaping the familiar but about expanding the conversation and finding beauty in places that are sometimes overlooked.

II.

YH: What are some of the pressures that come with winning the Chopin Competition? For example, do you ever feel that people expect you to play Chopin all the time?

BL: That’s a very interesting question, because obviously winning the Chopin Competition was a huge honour. It definitely comes with certain expectations as well. Chopin is, of course, at the heart of that legacy, and many people now associate him with me. Sometimes there’s an assumption that I always play Chopin, or that it should be the focus of my career. As much as I love and respect his music, I do continue to explore deeply. I want to grow beyond that identity, as I mentioned earlier.

There’s a pressure, in a way, to live up to a certain image, I would say. But I think it’s important as an artist to stay true to my curiosity and to challenge myself. Exploring other composers isn’t about leaving Chopin behind, but it’s about building a broader musical language. I want to be known as a musician who can offer something meaningful across a wide range of repertoire.

And something interesting, even funny, is that when I was younger, I never expected or even thought I would win the Chopin Competition or focus on Chopin’s music. I actually thought I would never be a great performer of Chopin, in a sense. So there’s always something unexpected, surprising, about what you can achieve. And there are so many hidden possibilities and potentials that I think one should never stop discovering.

[Note. You can find my series of conversations with Seong-Jin Cho, the previous winner of the Chopin Piano Competition, here.]

YH: I wonder if you have a composer that you consider closest to your heart, either as a performer or listener. 

BL: That’s obviously a very hard question, but I think somehow Schumann challenges me to be vulnerable as a performer. Playing Schumann reveals something about myself rather than just impressing. And I would say this is something I’ve come to value more and more over time... that is not just playing the notes beautifully but communicating something human and real. I haven’t played a lot of Schumann yet, because, as the saying goes, sometimes the things you love most, you don’t want to touch too early.

Schumann, for me, wasn’t just a composer. He was also a thinker, a poet, and a dreamer. He believed music should reflect the soul, the inner life, and the imagination. He created so many personalities, or as he called them, Florestan and Eusebius, to represent the fiery, impulsive side and the introspective, lyrical side. In pieces like Davidsbündlertänze and Carnaval, these two voices constantly interact. So playing his music feels like going on a journey that is unpredictable and deeply human.

He often wrote with an imagined circle of close friends in mind, as though whispering secrets through the piano. As a performer, that philosophy challenges you to move beyond surface interpretation. Schumann always gives me the feeling of silence between moments, in the hesitation, the sudden bursts, and the fragile beauty. It really feels like stepping into someone’s most private thoughts, and that requires a kind of honesty and vulnerability from the pianist. And that, I think, makes his music endlessly rewarding.

III.

YH: When do you feel the greatest joy of being a pianist?

BL: For me, the greatest joy comes in those moments when the music truly comes alive, when there’s a direct connection between the instrument, the performer, and the space around, including the audience. It’s that feeling of being completely present, where all technical concerns disappear and all that matters is the music and the emotion it carries.

There’s also a special joy in discovering something new in a piece I’ve played many times before. I can discover some fresh detail, new colour, or deeper emotional insight. That moment where you feel you're almost out of control, but not quite, is incredibly satisfying. I feel like I’ve taken a risk, but I’m still in a safe zone.

Ultimately, being a pianist allows me to communicate something beyond words and to share a story or a feeling that resonates with others. Whether it’s in a big concert hall or a small, intimate setting, when that kind of connection happens, it’s just incredibly fulfilling.

YH: Are there things you'd like to see changed in the classical music industry?

BL: There are a few things I’d like to see change in the classical music world. First, I’d like the music to embrace truly fluid and evolving languages, breaking free from fixed scores and static forms. For example, we could have open scores where composers supply sets of musical “molecules,” and performers can choose, order, or combine them in real time. That way, no two renditions would ever sound the same.

We could also integrate microtonal palettes with mainstream repertoire, giving ensembles access to tuning beyond equal temperament, and opening up entirely new harmonic and timbral worlds. The point is to keep the repertoire fresh.

Another idea I’ve always thought about is to see classical programming evolve into more of a curated art experience, such as treating each concert like a museum exhibition or gallery opening. That could include visual-musical dialogues, commissioning painters or sculptors to create works in response to new compositions or vice versa, and presenting them side by side in the hall or lobby.

We could also involve set designers and architects to transform concert spaces, adding sculptural elements, projections, or immersive “lightscapes.” It’s important to deepen emotional engagement and foster collaboration between performers, composers, and other art forms. I think that also helps attract cross-disciplinary audiences, which is beneficial for everyone.

YH: If you could compose a classical music piece, how would it sound? Would it even involve a piano?

BL: It might be a piano trio, as I have a huge love for chamber music. Some kind of nocturnal reflection, perhaps something that begins alone on the piano, with a very soft ostinato in the middle register and the sustain pedal so each arpeggio blends into the next. Then the violin and cello enter in unison, playing a very simple, plaintive melody... maybe an octave apart.

Then we’d have a kind of firefly scherzo as the second movement, very crisp, a lot of staccato and light textures, with the strings exchanging rapid motifs in relatively metric playing.

Later on, a melancholy adagio will be present, an atmospheric lament. The piano would return with broad, refined chords. And finally, a kind of sunrise, because I think music is always related to nature at some point. It has to be scenic and picturesque, with a very transparent texture. And the ending would be open, because I love open or unfinished endings, like in a film. Something suspended, like the surface of a lake reflecting the new sun, without giving a clear resolution.

IV.

YH: How do you typically prepare, mentally or physically, for a performance?

BL: There are a few things that I kind of always do. First of all, there's familiarising myself with the instrument and the space. I like to walk around the stage a lot, in the venue, and also sit a bit in the audience to get a sense of the distance and how the piano lid position affects the projection into the room.

Then there's getting familiar with the instrument itself... the touch, touch calibration, adjusting the action, talking and interacting with the tuners. That also gives me a kind of comfort.

A very important part for me is the lighting and the visual cues. I try to eliminate as many visual distractions as possible. I like to have very focused lighting in the centre of the stage, and make everything else very, very dark.

There’s also a psychological and ritual element. I have a breathing exercise, some stretches, and private “power chords” that I now do in front of the instrument. But I think what’s really important is to mentally rehearse the entire recital... to hear all the colours, the cadenzas, to feel your hands on the keys. I think this builds a lot of confidence, sometimes even more than actually practising or warming up too much before the performance.

And of course - sorry, there’s a lot that isn’t directly related to the piano itself - but the sense of self-enjoyment is also really important. I always try to do something I enjoy before the concert that’s not directly related to preparation. That could be either eating something really nice or taking a short nap, ideally on my own pillow. Anything that makes you feel a bit more at home is very important.

YH: What are the most underrated and overrated aspects when preparing for a performance?

BL: I think the most overrated thing is practising for long hours without focus. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking more is better, for example, having marathon sessions at the keyboard in the hope that repetition equals readiness. But unfocused practice can lead to bad habits, physical tension, and burnout.

What really matters is mindful practice, such as working on very specific trouble spots. Especially before a concert, it’s better to take a step back and let your brain rethink what you’ve learned.

The most underrated thing is definitely mental and physical rest. Everyone knows practice is essential, but many pianists forget the importance of rest, relaxation, and mental rehearsal. Recovery isn’t just downtime. It’s when your muscles repair, and your confidence builds. That’s extremely crucial for me. It makes you more secure and expressive in the end.

YH: What do you do when you're not practising the piano? I’d love to hear some details.

BL: I’m a big fan of film, especially European cinema. Sometimes I watch a film not for the plot but for how time is stretched or suspended. It reminds me of music, like when there’s a long stillness followed by a sudden cut. That’s tension and release, like in Beethoven’s late sonatas.

Travelling is a big part of my life, not just for concerts but for discovery. I always try to take a few extra days after a tour to explore a city or visit hidden places, or just to be in nature. Sometimes, during the tour, I just like to sit in a cafe and watch people move. That gives me a sense of rhythm and gesture. It’s simply lovely to see how people live.

I also have a lot of hobbies from childhood. Piano became the biggest one, so the others had to give up some space, but I still try to enjoy them. For example, I love karting. I swim often. And I enjoy playing board games like backgammon or chess. I also love visual arts, and spending time in nature is always where I find the most inspiration.

YH: What are some of your short-term and long-term goals?

BL: In the short term, I’m focused on refining a few key repertoire projects. I want to explore lesser-known works or even already familiar ones... but the most important thing is finding something new to say in them. I also hope to make more collaborations, especially in chamber music. It’s incredibly rewarding. It reminds me that music is also conversation.

In the long term, I want to carve out space for balance, not just moving from one performance to the next, but allowing time for deeper reflection between concerts. Maybe a few days of solitude to absorb what I’ve learned on stage and let it evolve naturally. It could also be a creative project, like designing a concert series or recording that weaves together music, storytelling, and visual elements.

And on a personal level, maybe I just would like to find a moment to unplug and take a trip without a piano. I think artists need silence in their own lives, so that when we return to the keyboard, we really have something to say.

Young-Jin Hur

@yjhur1885

© Where Cherries Ripen / Young-Jin Hur