德国小提琴家伊莎贝尔·福斯特谈利盖蒂、与亚历山大·梅尔尼科夫的友谊，以及贝多芬。 By Lucy Cheung 13 October 2026 Read in English 刚在留声机大奖上获得年度艺术家和协奏曲录音奖项的伊莎贝尔·福斯特（Isabelle Faust），在上周见面时对我说，如果演出这些作品时不能和亚历山大·梅尔尼科夫（Alexander Melnikov）合作，她会很难过。看了10月10日她与梅尔尼科夫在伦敦市政厅音乐与戏剧学院的弥尔顿苑音乐厅（Milton Court）现场后，我就明白了。 这次来伦敦，福斯特带了两把小提琴：一把用于10月7日留声机大奖颁奖礼上的演出，另一把则是装上肠弦的琴，留给10日晚的音乐会，配合梅尔尼科夫演奏的、经修复的1875年Érard古钢琴。 古钢琴疏朗的木质共鸣，像是透过有年代的楼上木地板传来，也为整晚定了调。勃拉姆斯《f小调第一奏鸣曲》，原本是为单簧管与钢琴而作，后来也有一个作曲家认可的中提琴版本，今晚肠弦的小提琴版本，音色微妙变化的第二乐章表现感人至深。句尾停顿、和声转向，旋律重新起步时的犹疑，都像福斯特克制的真性情那样，保留一点距离。连绵稳定的呼吸牵引长线条，从慢慢舒展到沉静下来，领着台上台下进入同一个时季。 我能同时感受到小提琴时而粗粝的音质与清秋般的叙事感，就像直看进演奏家眼里那般直率。下半场舒曼情绪起伏的《第二小提琴奏鸣曲》，阴郁底色间偶有和风细雨，再被钢琴骤然推进的激烈所打破，两件乐器之间有锋芒，有抵触。福斯特和梅尔尼科夫从1999年开始合作至今的默契，是真金实银。 在10月7日的留声机大奖颁奖礼前，福斯特在现场接受了即时Riff的专访，谈这次得奖的利盖蒂小提琴协奏曲、对她影响至深的历史录音、在诠释作品中的追求，以及与梅尔尼科夫二十多年的合作情谊。 伊莎贝尔·福斯特获颁获颁2026年留声机大奖协奏曲录音奖 Photo: Jamie Hodgskin 对话伊莎贝尔·福斯特：我们永远不会失去彼此 LC=张璐诗 IF=Isabelle Faust 谈利盖蒂小提琴协奏曲 LC：利盖蒂的作品通常并不被视为古典音乐经典曲目中的典型作品。当你决定录制这部作品时，你最希望听众从中听到什么？ IF：2023年是利盖蒂诞辰一百周年，那一年有很多与利盖蒂有关的音乐活动。我们恰好也在那一年巡演，这并不是偶然。否则，要组织一整轮以利盖蒂小提琴协奏曲为核心的巡演，我想会相当困难。但在那一年，人们特别关注利盖蒂的音乐，所以我觉得，大家对他的作品有了更多了解。 我认为，小提琴协奏曲确实是他那些相当容易被听众接受的作品之一，《圆号三重奏》也是。在某种意义上，这些作品都很容易进入，而且我觉得，它们能够非常直接地与听众产生联系。当然，它们在智性层面有着高度严密的结构和写作，但同时也有很强的情感驱动力。 而且，作品的写法非常多样，每一个乐章都与其他乐章截然不同。利盖蒂能够通过小提琴与整个乐团的结合，创造出令人惊叹的声音图景。有些时候，那些声音甚至带有一点印象派的感觉，同时又充满了力量。整部小提琴协奏曲几乎像是在讲述一个非常精彩的故事。我觉得，听众很容易从这部作品中产生各种联想。 所以这部小提琴协奏曲被视为一部天才之作，而且已经成为一部现代音乐经典。近些年来，我想不出有多少当代小提琴协奏曲能够像它这样，被许多同行演奏，而且我们可以肯定，它还会在曲库中留存很长时间。 LC：如果以近年留声机大奖的结果为例，我们会发现曲目越来越多样。作为一名演奏者，你觉得我们所说的古典乐传统曲库，这些年来也在发生变化？ IF：我想，这其实就是简单的算术问题：毕竟，贝多芬、勃拉姆斯、门德尔松的小提琴协奏曲，也就那么几部。你当然可以收藏它们的各种录音，但到了某个时候，自然会开始好奇，想要探索一些新的东西。对于录音来说，这在某种程度上就是事情发展的自然规律。 LC：你在研究一部作品时，比如研究利盖蒂的小提琴协奏曲过程，一般有哪些步骤？ IF：我当然总是会先看乐谱，因为你必须通过乐谱了解这部作品究竟是怎么回事。我觉得，聆听或研究作曲家的其他作品也非常重要。就利盖蒂而言，正如我刚才说的，《圆号三重奏》与小提琴协奏曲有着非常密切的联系，而我之前已经演奏过很多次《圆号三重奏》。所以，当我开始研究小提琴协奏曲时，马上就发现了一些相似之处，这些相似之处立刻进入了我的眼睛和耳朵。 当然，你也会尝试了解同行是如何处理这部作品的，可以有哪些不同的诠释方式。但最终，你还是必须回到乐谱，同时也要与你的同行交流，毕竟你们都处在同一条船上。 当然，你也会去了解这部作品的历史。加夫里洛夫（Saschko Gawriloff）是这部作品的首演小提琴家。现在，这部作品已经经历了这么多年，有意思的是去看看它在这些年里发生了怎样的变化。 伊莎贝尔·福斯特在2026年留声机大奖上演奏 Photo: Jamie Hodgskin LC：如果把今天的演奏跟早期的演奏相比，你觉得在诠释上有什么不同？ IF：我觉得，一部作品总是需要一点时间才能成熟。当你首演一部作品时，你实际上是所有人当中，花在理解这部作品上的时间最少的那一个。当然，通常你是与作曲家联系最紧密的人，但这部作品对你来说仍然非常新。作品需要被消化，需要在演出中不断积累。有时，作品也会发生一些改动，或者经过重新编排。大多数作曲家在首演之后，仍然会希望对作品作出调整。每一部作品都有自己的历史。 过了几年之后，作品听起来会有所不同。作曲家、演奏者也会更加清楚，自己究竟可以从这部作品中挖掘出什么。因此，我觉得，与只拿到一份墨迹都还没干的乐谱相比，今天的我们可能更容易真正深入理解一部作品。当然，能够直接与作曲家讨论、向他询问某个地方究竟是什么意思，或者问他是否愿意修改某些在小提琴上演奏起来过于棘手的地方，对于首演者而言，那是得天独厚的优势；但即使是首演者，十年之后再演奏同一部作品，演奏出来的样子也一定会有所不同。但这恰恰也是其中的美妙之处。 LC：你演奏的曲目横跨多个时期，从巴赫、贝多芬到二十世纪及当代作曲家。当你在不同时期、不同作曲家的作品之间转换时，对一位作曲家的深入探索，会不会反过来改变你对另一位作曲家的理解，发现一些过去没有注意到的东西？ IF：我相信会的。我想，如果你没有深入研究过巴赫，你演奏舒曼时的方式可能就会有所不同。舒曼非常敬仰巴赫，而且他对巴赫的音乐非常熟悉。即使舒曼并没有直接引用巴赫的某一段音乐，他也深受巴赫影响；当然，他也深受许多其他作曲家的影响。但如果你不了解这一层关系，演奏舒曼时可能不会立刻想到巴赫。 过去几个世纪以来，伟大的作曲家向来都会回过头去研究更早的音乐，所以很多作品之间都存在直接的联系，而且把这种纽带找出来也相当有意思；去了解一位作曲家的音乐灵感所在，也很有价值。 谈历史录音 LC：今天（留声机大奖颁奖日）我们致敬录音，我也想问一个关于录音的问题：有没有哪些历史录音，对你来说特别重要？ IF：重要的历史录音，当然有很多。对我来说，最为动人的录音来自布什弦乐四重奏（Busch Quartet）。他们演奏室内乐的方式非常独特，独特到几乎与其他所有的演奏团体都不一样，很难用语言来形容。对我而言，那是非常真实、真挚的音乐表达。布什弦乐四重奏团的录音，我总是回头听了又听；我也会听阿道夫·布什本人演奏小提琴的录音。他无论是作为音乐家还是为人，都很令我敬佩。 我也收藏了约瑟夫·约阿希姆的一张肖像，他也是我的一位偶像。尽管我们能听到的，只有他晚年极少量的录音。他在许多杰作的诞生过程中都扮演了关键角色，是当时音乐界的核心人物，在很长一段时间里，他对那个时代的许多音乐家都产生了深远影响。 如果继续谈小提琴家，我也非常崇敬约瑟夫·西盖蒂（Joseph Szigeti），当然，还有许多其他人。 谈音乐诠释 LC：我有一位乐评朋友想问你一个问题：他注意到，你演奏时并不总是追求大家普遍期待的那种漂亮、悦耳的声音。你演奏时追求的是什么？ IF：我演奏时，其实并不是在刻意寻找某一种音质。我努力去做的，是要让音乐呈现真实的故事、真实的画面。有时音乐需要有刺痛感，有时会充满不安，有时又像是凌空飞翔。我不会刻意去想，自己想要制造什么样的声音。我甚至不一定会从“小提琴演奏”这个角度去思考。也许有时候，演奏中会自然流露出不加修饰的声音，但并不是说，我此刻决定要把声音处理得粗粝一些。我始终努力做的，是根据自己对乐谱的理解，让音乐呈现出它真实的面貌。 我觉得，如果音乐永远都只有美，或许就没那么令人兴奋了。音乐当然需要有美的时刻，也需要有不那么美的时刻。否则，那些真正美好的瞬间，也就不会被看见。 不过，我演奏的时候也不会这么刻意去想。回到你的问题，我并不会有意识地决定：这个音符应该好听一点，那个音符应该粗粝一些，那不是我理解音乐的方式。 伊莎贝尔·福斯特与亚历山大·梅尔尼科夫 摄影：张璐诗 谈梅尔尼科夫 LC：你与亚历山大·梅尔尼科夫已经合作了二十多年，是什么让你们如此合拍？ IF：他是一位非常出色、非常卓越的音乐家，也是一个非常、非常好的人，他是我生命中最重要的朋友之一。我们认识的确切年份，他肯定记得，但我从来记不住。不过，我们合作已经超过二十年了。我们是在牛津的一个室内音乐节上认识的，当时，我们都觉得对方的演奏美得不得了，于是决定一起演奏一些奏鸣曲曲目。 之后，我们开始合作，并且决定认真地把这个二重奏维持下去，而不是今天与这位钢琴家合作，明天又换一位小提琴家。我们非常认真地对待这件事，几乎像一个弦乐四重奏那样，希望在奏鸣曲曲目中找到真正属于我们两个人的声音。后来有一回我想录制一些三重奏作品，于是我们邀请了让-吉安·凯拉斯（Jean-Guihen Queyras）加入我们的小团伙，合作也非常顺利。于是他们就成了我的两位长期合作的室内乐伙伴，我们一直保持着定期见面、一起演奏的习惯。有些乐季，我们会有更多共同演出的机会；另一些时候，大家都很忙，各自还有其他事情要做。但这种合作总会继续下去。我想，我们永远不会失去彼此。 LC：你觉得你们合作中最特别的地方是什么？比如，你们将在星期六演奏舒曼和勃拉姆斯。 IF：这应该由其他人来判断，而不是由我来判断（笑）。从我的角度来说，如果不能和亚历山大一起演奏这些曲目，我大概会很难过。亚历山大是一位在各个方面都极其敏锐的音乐家。当然，他非常了解我，所以，我只需要换一口气，他就知道我接下来要往哪个方向去。我也一样，我知道怎样去读懂他。 我们还有相似的经历和兴趣，我们在历史乐器方面有共同的兴趣，也互相鼓励对方朝这个方向探索。我们在那个音乐圈子里有共同的朋友，也从这些朋友身上学到很多。我也一直鼓励他慢慢建立自己的历史乐器收藏，看着他的收藏一点点丰富起来，今天拥有这么多乐器，真的非常棒。我们去他那里时，只需要决定接下来演奏什么曲目，然后就会发现：哦，这里正好有一件合适的乐器。从我自己的角度看来，这么讲当然有点自大（笑）。但我们是一起经历了整个发展过程的。因此，我们对这种音乐有相同的理解，也有相同的心态。 我们同时也很灵活，不会教条式地坚持必须使用历史乐器；古乐当然也完全可以用现代乐器演奏得很好。但我们在历史乐器方面积累的经验，即使在使用现代乐器演奏时，也会自然地融入我们的诠释。因为我们耳朵里有着相同的声音世界，这让我们的合作变得非常特别。 谈贝多芬录音计划 LC：上个月我在伦敦见到让-吉安·凯拉斯，他告诉我，明年要和你录制一些贝多芬的作品。 IF：是的，我们正在继续推进贝多芬系列的录音计划。这个计划已经筹划很久了，但不知怎么回事，一直没有真正实现。现在，我们终于要把整套作品做完了。 LC：接下来会是贝多芬逝世200年的纪念年，应该会有不少相关项目吧？ IF：是的，不过我们的进度有些晚了，我们的录音可能要等到明年结束时才刚刚完成，所以发行时间会稍微晚一些，时间安排得不太理想（笑）。不过，这个项目并不完全是为了赶上贝多芬纪念年才做的。贝多芬的三重奏实在太出色了，每部三重奏都是一颗瑰宝，钢琴三重奏本身是室内乐曲目中的重要部分。正如我刚才说的，我们已经演奏过其中不少作品，比如“大公”，也录制过Op. 70 No. 2（第六号钢琴三重奏）。其他一些作品我们也演奏过，只是没那么经常演，而且也是很久以前的事了。现在我们的计划是把整套三重奏录制下来，毕竟我们也不年轻了（笑），所以还是得把这件事完成。 LC：这个阶段有没有一两位作曲家，是你觉得特别亲近的？ IF：我在规划演出项目时，当然会从自己喜欢的作曲家入手。不过，我最近正在准备一部新作品的首演，眼下还不太清楚这部作品究竟会是什么样子。 通常，我会因为喜欢一部作品，才接下相关的演出项目。但有时候，真正参与其中之后，我对作品的感受也会变得更加深刻。我觉得，贝多芬是我花了比较长的时间才真正亲近起来的作曲家之一，莫扎特可能也是如此。不过，那都是很久以前的事了。我想，贝多芬可能不是那种你十八岁时就会立刻爱上的作曲家。当然，我也不敢说所有人都是这样，但我确实常听到很多人有类似的感受。如今，他的音乐已经真正走进了我的内心。 LC：为什么会这样？ IF：我不知道，也没办法确切地告诉你原因。不过，我很早就爱上了勃拉姆斯，也一直很喜欢舒曼。舒曼也不是一位所有人都会立刻爱上的作曲家，但他的音乐似乎一直伴随着我。当然，还有巴赫。莫扎特的音乐一直都在那里，但我觉得，真正认识到这位作曲家的天才，是后来才发生的事。我想，贝多芬也是如此。 莫扎特的音乐实在令人惊叹。他所运用的手段其实很有限，却能创造出如此独特的效果，这简直不可思议。有那么多作曲家试图模仿他，或者在同一时期运用类似的手段，但莫扎特拥有一种独特的天才触觉。 贝多芬当然在某种程度上写得更加复杂，更加宏大。如果你看看《大赋格》，或者他的其他作品，就会发现这位作曲家在他所处的时代走到了多么远的地方。这实在令人震撼。但这些事情可能需要你花一点时间去思考，才能真正对它们产生深刻的敬意，然后再把这种敬意转化为自己的情感。至少对我来说，这个过程就是这样的。 Writer Lucy Cheung

The 2026 Gramophone Award-winning violinist on Ligeti, the historical recordings that have shaped her musical life, her approach to interpretation, and her enduring partnership with Alexander Melnikov. By Lucy Cheung 16 October 2026 阅读中文版 Isabelle Faust, who recently won Artist of the Year and the Concerto Award at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards, told me last week that she would be very sad not to be playing with Alexander Melnikov. After hearing them perform Brahms and Schumann together at Milton Court Concert Hall in London on 10 October, I understood exactly what she meant. For her trip to London, Faust brought two violins: one for her performance at the Gramophone Classical Music Awards on 7 October, and another strung with gut strings for the concert two days later, when she would play alongside Melnikov on a restored 1875 Érard fortepiano. The fortepiano’s open, woody resonance seemed to rise through the floorboards of an old upstairs room, setting the tone for the evening. Brahms’s Sonata in F minor, Op. 120 No. 1, originally written for clarinet and piano and later transcribed for viola in a version approved by the composer, took on a subtly different character in the violin version performed that night. The second movement was particularly moving, its shifting colours revealing a remarkable emotional depth. The pauses at the ends of phrases, the harmonic turns and the hesitations as the melody began again all seemed to reflect Faust’s restrained candour, maintaining a certain distance even at moments of intimacy. Sustained, unbroken breaths carried the long musical lines as they gradually opened out before settling into stillness, drawing performers and audience alike into the same season. I was struck by the combination of a violin sound that could be raw, even abrasive, and the music’s quiet, autumnal narrative quality. The playing had an unvarnished directness, as frank as looking straight into Faust’s eyes. In the second half, Schumann’s Second Violin Sonata moved through shifting emotional landscapes. Its sombre undertow was occasionally softened by gentler passages, only to be broken by sudden, forceful surges from the piano. There was an edge to the exchanges between the two instruments, and at times a palpable resistance. Faust and Melnikov have been performing together since 1999, and the understanding between them has the substance of a partnership built over decades. Ahead of the Gramophone Awards ceremony on 7 October, Faust spoke to The Riff Magazine about her award-winning recording of Ligeti’s Violin Concerto, the historical recordings that have had a profound influence on her, what she seeks in musical interpretation, and her more than two decades of making music with Melnikov. Isabelle Faust receives the Concerto Award at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards, presented by Martin Cullingford (left). Photo: Jamie Hodgskin A Conversation with Isabelle Faust: “We Will Never Lose Each Other” LC: Lucy Cheung IF: Isabelle Faust Ligeti’s Violin Concerto LC: Ligeti’s music is not generally regarded as part of the traditional classical canon. When you decided to record his Violin Concerto, what did you most want listeners to hear in the work? IF: In 2023, there was a year of celebrations marking Ligeti’s centenary, so a great deal of his music was being performed. It was no coincidence that we toured with the concerto that year, either. Otherwise, I think it would be quite difficult to organise an entire tour around Ligeti’s Violin Concerto. But that year, there was a particular focus on his music, so I think people had more opportunities to get to know his works. The Violin Concerto is one of those pieces that are, in a certain sense, very accessible. The Horn Trio is another example. I feel that these works speak very directly to people. Of course, they are intellectually sophisticated and very carefully structured, but they also have a strong emotional drive. The writing is wonderfully varied, too, with each movement very different from the others. Ligeti manages to create astonishing sound pictures through the way he combines the violin with the orchestra. At times, the effect is almost impressionistic, while at others it is extremely powerful. The concerto is almost like a very exciting story told through the violin, and I think listeners can form associations with it quite easily. That is probably why the concerto is regarded as a stroke of genius and has already become a modern classic. I cannot think of many contemporary violin concertos from recent years that are already being performed by so many of my colleagues. We can be sure that this one will remain in the repertoire for a long time. LC: If we look at the results of the Gramophone Awards in recent years, for example, we can see a growing variety of repertoire. As a performer, do you feel that the classical canon, as we call it, has been changing over the years? IF: I think it is really a matter of simple arithmetic. There are only so many recordings of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, or of the Brahms and Mendelssohn concertos, that you can have at home. At some point, you naturally become curious and want to discover something new. I suppose that is simply the way things work when it comes to recording. LC: When you research a piece, such as Ligeti’s Violin Concerto, what is your process? IF: Of course, I always start by looking at the score, because you have to understand what the piece is about. I also think it is very important to listen to or study other works by the composer. In Ligeti’s case, as I mentioned, the Horn Trio is very closely related to the Violin Concerto, and I had already performed the Horn Trio quite a lot. So when I began studying the concerto, certain similarities immediately caught my eye and ear. Naturally, you also try to find out how your colleagues approach the piece and how it might be interpreted in different ways. But in the end, you have to return to the score, while also exchanging ideas with your colleagues, because you are all in the same boat. You also look into the history of the work. Saschko Gawriloff was the violinist who gave its premiere, and it is interesting to see how the piece has developed over the years. Isabelle Faust performing at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards. Photo: Jamie Hodgskin LC: If you compare performances today with those from earlier years, what differences do you notice in the interpretations? IF: I think a piece always needs time to mature. When you give the premiere of a work, you are actually the person who has had the least time to understand it. Of course, you are normally the one in closest contact with the composer, but the piece is still very new to you. A work needs to be digested; it needs to live through performances. Sometimes it is also changed or rearranged. Most composers still want to make adjustments after a premiere, so every piece develops its own history. After a few years, the work will naturally sound different. The composer may understand it differently, and the interpreter certainly comes to know more precisely what can be brought out of it. I think it is probably easier for us today to get to the bottom of the piece than it was when the score was still wet, so to speak. Of course, being able to discuss the music directly with the composer and ask what he meant by a particular passage, or whether he might consider changing something that is awkward to play on the violin, is a tremendous privilege for the musician giving the premiere. But even that first interpreter will play the piece differently ten years later. That is part of the beauty of it. LC: Your repertoire spans many periods, from Bach and Beethoven to twentieth-century and contemporary composers. When you move between composers and periods, can studying one composer in depth change your understanding of another, perhaps allowing you to discover things you had not noticed before? IF: I am sure it can. I think you might play Schumann differently if you had not immersed yourself in studying Bach, for example. Schumann admired Bach enormously and knew his music very well. Even when he is not directly quoting Bach, he is deeply influenced by him, as so many other composers are. If you are not aware of that connection, Bach might not immediately come to mind when you play Schumann. Throughout the centuries, great composers have always studied the music of those who came before them. There are direct connections between works from different periods, and it is fascinating to trace those links and understand where a particular composer’s musical language comes from. Historical Recordings LC: Today, on the day of the Gramophone Awards, we are celebrating recordings. Are there any historical recordings that mean a great deal to you? IF: There are many, of course. The recordings that move me most are those by the Busch Quartet. I find them extremely touching and very special. They represent such a distinctive way of making music, almost something apart from everything else, and it is difficult to put into words. For me, that way of making music is so authentic. I always return to the Busch Quartet’s recordings, and I also listen to Adolf Busch himself as a violinist. I admire him greatly, both as a musician and as a person. I also have a portrait of Joseph Joachim, who is another great idol of mine, although we have only a very small number of recordings of him from his later years. He played a crucial role in the creation of so many masterpieces and stood at the centre of musical life in his time. I think he influenced so many musicians over a very long period. He was a major voice in his day. And if we stay with violinists, I am also a great admirer of Joseph Szigeti, among many others. Musical Interpretation LC: A critic friend of mine has a question for you. He has noticed that you do not always pursue the kind of beautiful, pleasing sound that people might conventionally expect from a violinist. What are you looking for when you play? IF: I am not really looking for a particular sound when I play. What I try to do is give the music a real story, a real picture. Sometimes the music has to hurt; sometimes it is troubled; sometimes it is almost like flying through the sky. I do not think in terms of wanting to produce one kind of sound or another. I do not necessarily think in terms of playing the violin, either. Sometimes a rougher sound may emerge, but it is not that I consciously decide to make it rough. I always try to give the music a real face, according to how I understand the score. And I think eternal beauty may not be the most exciting thing. Of course, there have to be beautiful moments, but there also have to be less beautiful ones. Otherwise, the beautiful moments would no longer stand out. Even so, I do not consciously think in those terms when I play. To answer your question, I do not decide that one note should be beautiful and another rough. That is not how I make music. Alexander Melnikov LC: You and Alexander Melnikov have been working together for more than twenty years. What was it that made you click as musical partners? IF: He is such an outstanding, extraordinary musician and a wonderful, wonderful person. He is one of the most important friends in my life. He would remember exactly which year we met; I never do. But it was more than twenty years ago, at a chamber music festival in Oxford. We both thought the other was playing incredibly beautifully, and we decided that we wanted to perform sonata repertoire together. We then decided to take the duo seriously as a real partnership, rather than playing with one pianist one day and a different violinist the next. We approached it almost as a string quartet would, working to find a voice of our own together in the sonata repertoire. At some point, I wanted to record some trios, so we invited Jean-Guihen Queyras to join our little circle. That worked very well, too. They are my two long-term chamber music partners. We meet and play together regularly. Some seasons we have more concerts together; in others, everyone is busy with other things. But the collaboration always comes back and continues. I think we will never lose each other. LC: What do you think is particularly special about the partnership? You are going to perform Schumann and Brahms together on Saturday. What is it about playing with Alexander that makes those performances distinctive? IF: I always find that difficult to answer, because it is really for other people to judge. From my point of view, I would probably be very sad to play this repertoire with anybody else. Alexander is an extraordinarily sensitive musician in every sense. Of course, he knows me very well. I only have to breathe, and he knows where I am going. It works the other way around, too: I know how to read him. We also share a similar background, if you like, and a common interest in historical instruments. We encouraged each other to explore that world. We had friends in that musical circle in common, and we learned from them together. I encouraged him to build what has become his incredible collection of period instruments. He has so many wonderful instruments now. It is lovely to go to his place and ask ourselves what repertoire we have not played yet, only to discover that he has exactly the right instrument for it. Of course, that is a rather self-serving way of looking at it from my side! But we went through this whole development together. We share the same outlook on this music, and we are both flexible. We do not insist dogmatically on using period instruments; early music can also be played beautifully on modern instruments. Nevertheless, that experience feeds into our performances even when we are not using period instruments. We have the same sound world in our ears, and that makes the collaboration very special. Isabelle Faust and Alexander Melnikov performing in London on 10 October. Photo: Lucy Cheung The Beethoven Recording Project LC: Last month, I met Jean-Guihen Queyras here in London, and he told me that you were going to record some Beethoven together next year. Is that right? IF: Yes, we are continuing our Beethoven series. It has been planned for a long time, but somehow it never happened. Now we are finally doing the whole thing. LC: Beethoven’s bicentenary is coming up, so I imagine there will be quite a few projects around his music. IF: Yes, although we are a little late with ours. We will probably only have finished recording by the end of next year, so the release will come a little later. The timing is not ideal! But the project was not conceived specifically for the Beethoven anniversary. The trios are absolutely fantastic. Each one is a little jewel. They form a major part of the piano trio repertoire, and we have played them a great deal. We have played the “Archduke” Trio and recorded the Trio in E-flat major, Op. 70 No. 2. We have performed the other trios as well, but not so often, and it has been a long time. Our plan is now to record the complete cycle. None of us is getting any younger, so we have to do it! LC: At this stage of your life, are there one or two composers you feel particularly close to? IF: When I plan programmes, I naturally choose composers whose music I like. At the moment, I am preparing a new work for its premiere, but it is still a little too early to say exactly what it is. Normally, I know what I am going to be working on, and I would always like the pieces I agree to perform. Otherwise, I would not agree to play them. And then, of course, my feelings for a work often become more intense as I get to know it more closely. I think Beethoven was one of the composers I came to feel close to a little later than others. Perhaps Mozart, too. I am talking about a long time ago, of course. Beethoven may not be a composer you immediately embrace at the age of eighteen. I have heard other people describe a similar experience. I always loved Beethoven, but his music has gradually grown under my skin. LC: Why do you think that is? IF: I do not know. I cannot really tell you. I fell in love with Brahms very early, for example, and I have always loved Schumann. He is not a composer everyone immediately loves, but somehow his music has always been with me. Bach, of course, has always been there, too. Mozart’s music was always there, but it took me a little longer to recognise the real genius of this composer. I would say the same about Beethoven. Mozart is astonishing. With such limited means, he achieves results that are completely unique. So many composers have tried to imitate him, or have used similar means, but there is a touch of genius that belongs to Mozart alone. Beethoven, of course, is more elaborate in a certain sense. But what he achieved is simply monumental. If you look at the Grosse Fuge, for example, or consider how far he went beyond the musical conventions of his time, it is extraordinary. These are things you may need to reflect on before you can fully appreciate them. You develop a profound respect for the music, and then somehow that respect becomes part of your emotions. At least, that is how it happened for me. Writer Lucy Cheung

On 15 October 2026, Swiss baritone Äneas Humm and Bulgarian-born pianist Doriana Tchakarova performed at Oxford’s Holywell Music Room as part of Oxford International Song Festival. The pair have worked together for six years. Opened in 1748, Holywell is widely regarded as Europe’s oldest purpose-built concert hall. Their programme brought together songs by Robert Schumann, Clara Schumann, Amy Beach and Hugo Wolf. Among these, I was particularly struck by the songs of the American composer Amy Beach. Humm shaped the vocal lines with subtle shifts of colour and supple phrasing, while Tchakarova’s piano had a vivid presence of its own, its changing textures and dynamics closely attuned to the voice. Their performance balanced lyrical intimacy with a palpable dramatic tension, allowing emotion to build through the interplay of voice and piano rather than spelling everything out. Neither simply accompanied the other; each seemed to draw the other further into the music. Beach was one of the leading American composers of her generation, as well as a pianist who forged a career in a musical world largely dominated by men. Her songs engage with the European art-song tradition while revealing a distinctive musical voice. Her sensitivity to poetry and the intricate relationship between vocal line and piano offer performers considerable room for interpretation. In Humm and Tchakarova’s hands, her songs revealed a dramatic edge beneath their lyrical surface. Their choice of repertoire also reflects the way their partnership has developed. Humm has long been drawn to German Lied, particularly Schumann and Schubert, and recorded Schumann songs on his second solo album. Tchakarova has encouraged him to venture further afield, introducing him to Hugo Wolf and championing Beach’s music. She has an instinct for finding repertoire that suits a singer’s voice and temperament, while also opening up new possibilities. For Humm, Lied is about much more than singing a beautiful melody. The singer must let the words speak, while the pianist contributes not just harmony but an equally vital musical voice. Both share responsibility for bringing the poetry to life. When they find the right sound together, he says, voice and piano can become something more than the sum of their parts. That understanding has grown through disagreement as much as agreement. Humm recalls approaching Schumann’s Auf einer Burg at a particularly slow tempo, reflecting what he had learnt at the Juilliard School. Tchakarova pointed out the structure of Schumann’s four-bar phrases, and they eventually met somewhere in the middle. In another rehearsal, when Humm wanted a phrase to sound more sharply articulated, Tchakarova urged him to think more like a chamber musician: to let the line move towards the next bar rather than treating each note as an isolated event. For Tchakarova, the piano part is never simply accompaniment. She adapts her tempo, dynamics and phrasing to each singer, while making sure the different voices within the piano writing remain clear. In Schumann especially, she listens for the interplay between the upper line and the bass, and for the polyphonic detail that can easily be lost if the piano is treated as a supporting role. Humm’s approach to interpretation has also been shaped by the violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja, who has spoken about making music her own. He believes the same is true of Lied: performers must find their own relationship with the words and consider how they feel each sentence. One of the pleasures of working with Tchakarova, he says, is her readiness to suggest, “Let’s try.” They may disagree in rehearsal, but he sometimes finds himself later acknowledging that she was right about a tempo or phrase. For both musicians, the art of Lied is a conversation: between poetry and music, singer and pianist, score and imagination. Their six years together have taught them that the most convincing interpretation is not necessarily the one they arrive at first, but the one they discover by listening to each other. Holywell Music Room Photo: Lucy Cheung The Riff Questionnaire: Äneas Humm and Doriana Tchakarova AH=Äneas Humm DT=Doriana Tchakarova When did you first realise that music would become your life? AH: I sang in the Zurich Boys’ Choir as a child. Whenever I sang, I could lose myself in the music and forget about time. That feeling has stayed with me. DT: I initially wanted to be a solo pianist. Then, in my first or second year at university, I accompanied a singer who told me I played well. That was when I began to think that collaborative piano might be what I really wanted to do. Is there a piece of music that changed the way you understand music? AH: Two Mozart works come to mind. One is a violin sonata with a passage marked Tempo di Menuetto. I heard Anne-Sophie Mutter’s recording as a teenager and was fascinated by it. There was something of an Andante, a little Allegretto, yet the music kept moving steadily. Her interpretation made me feel as though I were hearing an entire life. The other is The Magic Flute, particularly the “March of the Priests”. I’ve sung Papageno 50 or 60 times, so I know the opera well. But when the strings really dig into the music, it can sound almost painful. The score may look beautiful on the page, but the performance can completely change its effect. DT: Bruckner’s Seventh Symphony and Schubert’s String Quintet. I love the drama in both, especially the emotionally charged passages in the Schubert. Music can take you somewhere much deeper than beauty alone. If you could introduce someone new to Lied through just one song, which would you choose? DT: Schubert’s Der Lindenbaum. Its melody draws you in, and it’s a wonderful introduction to the relationship between poetry and song. Mendelssohn’s Auf Flügeln des Gesanges would also be a good choice. AH: Schubert’s Du bist die Ruh, or Die Forelle. Schubert is the king of Lied. He has a remarkable ability to reach people emotionally without needing to explain everything. What does music school not teach you that you have to learn in the profession? AH: Music school gives you the tools, but once you leave, you have to find your own voice. I remember Joyce DiDonato saying something along the lines of doing what you want to do. You have to stand by your own interpretation, even if some people don’t like it, while remaining open to criticism. DT: School doesn’t teach you how to work with different artists. You might collaborate with one singer today, another tomorrow, then work with an orchestra or give a Lied recital. Everyone has a different personality and way of making music. You have to stay open and learn to adapt. What quality do you value most in a musical partner? AH: Curiosity. DT: Curiosity, too, but also kindness and friendship. You need to get along, trust each other and feel comfortable expressing different opinions. If you could invite composers to dinner, whom would you choose? AH: Richard Wagner and Franz Schubert. Dinner with Wagner might be exhausting, but it would certainly be interesting. I’d also love to meet Schubert and find out what he was really like. DT: Franz Liszt, or perhaps Erich Wolfgang Korngold as well. After six years of working together, what might surprise people about your partner? AH: Doriana can turn the pages of her music on an iPad using facial movements or gestures. I think that’s amazing. DT: Äneas gets very nervous before performances, but once he’s on stage, he looks like Superman. AH: I do get nervous. I keep wondering whether I’ll be good enough. I have enormous respect for the repertoire, and sometimes I feel like leaving before the music even begins. But once I start singing, I get into it and the nerves gradually disappear. Describe your partner in three words. AH: Courageous, gifted and open to new possibilities. DT: Special, funny and handsome. And intelligent, too! Do you have a pre-performance ritual? AH: Ten to twenty push-ups. DT: I talk to myself in Swiss German in front of a mirror. Sometimes I write little notes of encouragement and stick them on it, especially when I’m ill or fighting a cold. If a piece of music could describe your life at the moment, what would it be? AH: The past few weeks have been very busy, with around ten concerts and trips to Portugal and Austria. I recently came across Lighter Notes by the German jazz pianist Luca Sestak on Apple Music. I love the way he brings jazz and classical music together. DT: Mahler’s Rückert-Lieder, particularly Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder! To me, it says: let me do my thing. My business is my business. I don’t want people interfering too much. If you could change one thing about the classical music world, what would it be? DT: I’d like people to be more open to different interpretations. Just because a work has always been performed in a certain way doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. There should be room for musicians to bring their own perspective to the music. AH: I’d like classical music to be less pretentious. Artists should be approachable and authentic, rather than trying to fit some imagined ideal of what a classical musician should be. With the internet, audiences can see who we are away from the stage, too. I think it’s important to show your true self. If you were stranded on a desert island, which three pieces of music would you take with you? AH: Bach’s St Matthew Passion, Mozart’s The Magic Flute, and Bach’s Violin Partitas. If you could perform only one piece for the rest of your life, what would it be? DT: Schubert’s An den Mond. I love it so much that I’d even like it to be played at my funeral.

桑图-马蒂亚斯·鲁瓦利与英国爱乐乐团 Photo: Mark Allan 2027年是贝多芬逝世200周年，英国爱乐管弦乐团（Philharmonia Orchestra）在近日公布的2026/27乐季下半季伦敦演出安排中，宣布将以九场主题音乐会（Beethoven 200: What Makes a Classic?），逐一演出贝多芬的九部交响曲，同时，九位指挥家将各自选择一部当代作品，与每场音乐会上的贝多芬作品“配对”，邀请观众思考：当下创作的音乐，哪些能够在两百年后依然留在音乐厅里？ 每位指挥选择的搭配曲目均创作于1970年以后，这批当代作品代表的是九位指挥家心目中能够经受时间考验的音乐。爱乐乐团现任首席指挥桑图-马蒂亚斯·鲁瓦利（Santtu-Matias Rouvali）将于2月11日开启整个系列的演出，以贝多芬《第一交响曲》搭配史蒂夫·莱什（Steve Reich）的《沙漠音乐》（Desert Music），并演奏约翰·亚当斯（John Adams）的《快车短途之旅》（Short Ride in a Fast Machine）。鲁瓦利认为，贝多芬与莱什都擅长从简单的音乐素材出发，通过节奏的重复、变化与层叠，逐步发展出规模宏大、充满能量的作品。 2月28日，安德鲁·曼泽（Andrew Manze）将指挥《第二交响曲》，并与约翰·塔文纳（John Tavener）的《护身之帷》（The Protecting Veil）相遇。大提琴家史蒂文·伊瑟利斯（Steven Isserlis）将演奏这部为他创作的作品，音乐会另以埃尔加的《弦乐小夜曲》开场。 3月4日，爱乐乐团桂冠指挥埃萨-佩卡·萨洛宁（Esa-Pekka Salonen）将执棒贝多芬《第三交响曲“英雄”》与马格努斯·林德伯格（Magnus Lindberg）的《第一小提琴协奏曲》，由小提琴家约翰·达莱内（Johan Dalene）担任独奏，并以西贝柳斯《第七交响曲》收尾。 埃萨-佩卡·萨洛宁与英国爱乐乐团 Photo: Marc Gascoigne 3月11日，巴勃罗·埃拉斯-卡萨多（Pablo Heras-Casado）将指挥《第四交响曲》，搭配施尼特凯的《钢琴与弦乐协奏曲》，由钢琴家史蒂文·奥斯本（Steven Osborne）担任独奏；普罗科菲耶夫《第一交响曲“古典”》将作为开场曲目。 3月14日，托马斯·亨格布洛克（Thomas Hengelbrock）将指挥《第五交响曲》，并与古拜杜丽娜（Sofia Gubaidulina）的《奉献》（Offertorium）相互映照。小提琴家丹尼尔·霍普（Daniel Hope）将演奏这部创作于1980年的小提琴协奏曲，音乐会以贝多芬的《普罗米修斯的生灵》序曲开场。 3月18日，瑞安·班克罗夫特（Ryan Bancroft）将以《第六交响曲“田园”》搭配迈克尔·蒂皮特（Michael Tippett）的《玫瑰湖》（The Rose Lake）。这部作品是蒂皮特最后一部重要的管弦乐作品，创作于1991至1993年，灵感来自他造访塞内加尔玫瑰湖的经历。小提琴家康珠美（Clara-Jumi Kang）则将演奏沃恩·威廉斯的《云雀高飞》。 4月8日，爱乐乐团候任首席指挥曼弗雷德·霍内克（Manfred Honeck）将指挥贝多芬《第七交响曲》，并与詹姆斯·麦克米兰（James MacMillan）的打击乐协奏曲《来吧，来吧，以马内利》（Veni, Veni, Emmanuel）搭配，由打击乐演奏家维维·瓦西列娃（Vivi Vassileva）担任独奏；阿沃·帕特的《纪念本杰明·布里顿的挽歌》将为音乐会开场。 4月11日，小提琴家兼指挥家莱奥尼达斯·卡瓦科斯（Leonidas Kavakos）将执棒《第八交响曲》，搭配的是肖斯塔科维奇《第十五交响曲》。钢琴家辻井伸行（Nobuyuki Tsujii）将演奏肖斯塔科维奇《第一钢琴协奏曲》。 4月22日，马林·阿尔索普（Marin Alsop）将以其“全球欢乐颂”（Global Ode to Joy）项目为整个系列收官：这项计划以新的合唱音乐重新构想贝多芬《第九交响曲》，并以面向21世纪的诗性改写取代原作中的诗句。音乐会还将呈现詹妮弗·希格登（Jennifer Higdon）的《蓝色大教堂》（blue cathedral），以及融合印度斯坦音乐与西方古典传统的作曲家里娜·埃斯迈尔（Reena Esmail）的合唱作品。 这个系列音乐会将由广播主持人汤姆·瑟维斯（Tom Service）在每场演出前作简短导赏。爱乐管弦乐团首席执行官托本·迪特斯（Thorben Dittes）表示，完整演出贝多芬九部交响曲曾是乐团早年的传统。2020年，原本围绕贝多芬展开的演出计划受到影响，因此在纪念年份重新呈现完整系列，对乐团而言意义特别。九场音乐会的套票价格为99英镑，具体座位将在每场演出前一周公布。首次购买爱乐管弦乐团演出票的观众，还可购买《第一》、《第五》及《第七交响曲》的10英镑优惠票，并参加演出前导赏。 马林·阿尔索普与英国爱乐乐团 Photo: Alejandro S. Garrido 下一乐季其他看点 贝多芬系列之外，乐团下半季仍将迎来多位独奏家与指挥。2月7日，钢琴家皮奥特·安德索夫斯基（Piotr Anderszewski）将在亚历山大·索迪（Alexander Soddy）指挥下演奏莫扎特《第二十四钢琴协奏曲》，同场还有埃尔加《第一交响曲》。 本乐季特邀艺术家、大提琴家索尔·加贝塔（Sol Gabetta）将于3月25日与指挥家图甘·索契耶夫（Tugan Sokhiev）合作演出德沃夏克《大提琴协奏曲》，曲目还包括门德尔松《赫布里底群岛序曲》与勃拉姆斯《第二交响曲》。加贝塔之后还将于5月29日演奏海顿《C大调第一大提琴协奏曲》。 4月1日，鲁瓦利将指挥斯特拉文斯基《纸牌游戏》、西贝柳斯《雷明凯宁组曲》，以及由钢琴家贝娅特丽切·拉娜（Beatrice Rana）演奏的普罗科菲耶夫《第三钢琴协奏曲》。5月6日，鲁瓦利将与小提琴家玛丽亚·杜埃尼亚斯（María Dueñas）合作演出贝多芬《小提琴协奏曲》，同场曲目包括陈银淑的《蓄势》（Subito con forza）与柴可夫斯基《第四交响曲》。5月12日，阿尔索普将指挥马勒《第一交响曲》，钢琴家亚历山大·康托罗夫（Alexandre Kantorow）则将演奏巴托克《第二钢琴协奏曲》。 乐季将于6月3日以一场大型合唱与管弦乐演出收尾，鲁瓦利将指挥奥尔夫《布兰诗歌》，女高音朱莉·罗塞（Julie Roset）、男高音布雷特·斯普拉格（Brett Sprague）与男中音赫尔曼·奥尔维拉（Germán Olvera）担任独唱。钢琴家角野隼斗（Hayato Sumino）将演奏格什温《F大调钢琴协奏曲》，音乐会以朱莉娅·沃尔夫（Julia Wolfe）的《青春之泉》（Fountain of Youth）开场。

French pianist Bertrand Chamayou on his fascination with Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words, and the ever-evolving musical universe that connects the composers he plays. By Lucy Cheung 12 October 2026 阅读中文版 Fresh from winning the Piano Award at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards, alongside Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes for their album Schubert 4 Hands, French pianist Bertrand Chamayou appeared at Wigmore Hall on 9 October. He was joined by Norwegian violinist Vilde Frang and brothers Benjamin and Salamon Eredics in a programme built around 20th-century works by Bartók and Kurtág, bringing together the folk traditions of Central and Eastern Europe and the Balkans, as well as elements of improvisation. The richly varied concert was one of Chamayou’s appearances as Wigmore Hall Artist in Residence this season. Bartók’s Violin Sonata No. 1 and selections from Mikrokosmos were woven together with passages from Kurtág’s Játékok (Games), bringing classical music, folk traditions and improvisation into dialogue. The programme also included improvisatory passages incorporating elements of Arabic music. The Eredics brothers’ arrangements of Hungarian, Romanian and Serbian folk music moved between an array of instruments, including violin, accordion, trumpet, shepherd’s pipe, hulusi, guitar and piano. I caught up with Chamayou briefly at the Gramophone Classical Music Awards on the evening of 7 October, towards the end of the ceremony. We spoke for around 20 minutes about his approach to different musical traditions and improvisation, as well as his forthcoming recording of Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words, due to be released this week. Andsnes was absent from the awards ceremony that evening. In an interview with The Riff Magazine last week, he recalled his first performance with Chamayou in 2016, when they played Schubert’s Fantasia in F minor, D. 940, for piano four hands at the inaugural Rosendal Chamber Music Festival. The experience revealed an immediate musical affinity, which led the two pianists to explore more of Schubert’s four-hand repertoire together. It was approaching midnight by the time I spoke to Chamayou. Looking at his flushed face, I realised that most of us had had a few drinks and were feeling a little more relaxed, if also slightly tired. Yet even as his gaze occasionally wandered and his sentences came in a rapid, almost stream-of-consciousness flow, his thinking remained clear, and he was unfailingly considerate towards those around him. Chamayou will return to London in early November, when we will bring readers another installment of The Riff Questionnaire, with a slightly sharper set of questions. Bertrand Chamayou receives the Piano Award at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards. Photo: Colin Miller In conversation with Bertrand Chamayou LC = Lucy Cheung BC = Bertrand Chamayou Improvisation, folk traditions and musical freedom LC: Your programme at Wigmore Hall moves beyond Bartók and Kurtág to include folk music and improvisation. What does improvisation mean to you? BC: I’m not actually improvising in that concert. But, anyway, what does improvisation mean to me, even if I’m not directly improvising this time? Improvisation is still part of the programme. I’ve always improvised, ever since I was a child and first started playing the piano. At the beginning, interpreting music, reading music, composing and improvising were all part of the same thing for me. Of course, later on I devoted myself more to interpretation. But composition and contemporary music have always been at the core of my work, and improvisation is somehow part of that too. Some music can be very close to improvisation. Kurtág’s music is a good example: in some pieces, the pitches are not entirely fixed, and the performer has to find them. The score becomes more of a gesture. In that sense, there is something improvisatory about it. In this concert, though, it was a little different. We started with one major sonata, Bartók’s Violin Sonata No. 1. It’s a monster of a piece, lasting around 45 minutes. I think it is the biggest and heaviest sonata of the 20th century — something like the 20th-century equivalent of Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata. We built the programme around it, together with two wonderful traditional musicians, the Eredics brothers, Benjamin and Salamon. They play all kinds of instruments — around ten or fifteen of them appear on stage. We created the programme together, and I also play some pieces from Bartók’s Mikrokosmos and Kurtág’s Játékok. We start from these Hungarian roots and develop the programme from there. We also play arrangements of traditional music with Vilde, Benjamin and Salamon. These pieces are close to improvisation too. Some things are written down, but the way we approach them is more like an oral tradition. It isn’t music that is entirely fixed in notation. LC: As Artist in Residence at Wigmore Hall this season, what do you want audiences to discover about you? BC: I love creating programmes, and I love movement. I don’t like things that are too rigid. I like to present myself in different ways, and I love diversity. Whenever I have a residency somewhere, it gives people an opportunity to see a particular aspect of my work. This isn’t my first residency at Wigmore Hall, for example, and this time I have three concerts. One is a recital centred on Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words, which is quite an exciting programme. I intertwine the pieces with some more contemporary music, creating a complete programme around the idea of what a song without words might be. I also have a programme with Barbara Hannigan, centred on music by Erik Satie and John Cage. So these are three very different projects. Of course, I would be happy to present twenty or twenty-five projects, if I could, and show people even more different aspects of my work. Bertrand Chamayou with Vilde Frang and the Eredics brothers at Wigmore Hall on 9 October. Photo: Lucy Cheung Mendelssohn and the meaning of a song without words LC: I was going to ask you about Songs Without Words. You have a new album coming out. What does the idea of a song without words mean to you, and why have you chosen to explore it in this way? BC: The next album is entirely devoted to Mendelssohn. It’s a very pure Mendelssohn recording: I’ve recorded the complete Songs Without Words, all 48 pieces, nearly two hours of music. I wanted to create a very clear, unbroken thread, almost like a diary of Mendelssohn’s life. First of all, I think this is marvellous repertoire, and it hasn’t been recorded all that often in its entirety. Five or six of the pieces are extremely famous, but the others are much less well known. I think the whole collection is of the highest quality. The music is extraordinary, and it deserves to be heard. I’ve also recorded another album, which hasn’t even been edited yet. It will be called Songs Without (Good) Words. It includes a wide variety of pieces that pay tribute, in different ways, to the idea of a song without words. The recital programme I’m currently performing includes around twelve of Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words, interwoven with other kinds of songs. There’s a Beatles song arranged by Takemitsu, for example, as well as works by Schumann in transcriptions by Liszt, and other pieces. The second half features two major fantasies built around this idea. One is Schubert’s famous Wanderer Fantasy, which he composed around his song Der Wanderer. The other is a 21st-century work by the American composer George Crumb, Eine kleine Mitternachtmusik. It is a series of variations, almost a large-scale fantasy, based on the jazz tune ’Round Midnight by Thelonious Monk. LC: Do you play jazz yourself? BC: No. I mean, I love jazz, and I love many different kinds of music, but I really believe that we can’t be as good at something as people who live with it all day long. That’s what I do with classical music, particularly with certain composers. You have to be familiar with the language of a musical tradition if you want to play it well. So I can play a little jazz and try things like that, but I wouldn’t be as good as I would like to be, especially compared with the many wonderful jazz pianists I admire today. Sometimes I might do projects that bring me into dialogue with musicians from other fields, but otherwise I want to stick to what I can do best. LC: Why record the complete Songs Without Words now? Was it a deliberate plan, or did the idea come about by chance? BC: It’s always a question of chance, but not entirely. I think there is also a kind of timing that has to do with where you are in life. Around twenty years ago, I recorded a solo album of Mendelssohn’s music for the label Naïve. It was one of my first solo albums, and I included quite a few lesser-known pieces, among them five of the Songs Without Words. To choose them, I actually sight-read the entire collection. There are eight books, with six pieces in each, making 48 in total. I was amazed by their quality, because I didn’t know most of them at the time. I remember thinking that I was making a Mendelssohn solo album with all kinds of things — preludes, fantasies, variations and so on — but perhaps I should consider recording the complete Songs Without Words one day, because the collection hasn’t been recorded in its entirety all that often. That thought stayed with me. It remained on my wish list, and gradually grew. Then, at a certain point, I had the intuition that the timing was right. So I would say it was somewhere between a plan and a coincidence. Bertrand Chamayou performing at the 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards. Photo: Jamie Hodgskin ‘Mendelssohn has been misunderstood’ LC: It seems relatively unusual for a pianist to devote an entire recording to Mendelssohn. What draws you to his music? I don’t often hear people talking about his compositions, and sometimes I get the impression that they are considered a little superficial, perhaps too polished or elegant. BC: Yes, Mendelssohn has been misunderstood. First of all, he wasn’t an avant-gardist like Liszt, Wagner or Berlioz. Even Chopin was, in a way, a modern composer. Mendelssohn wasn’t a particularly dramatic composer, at least not in the way Schumann or Schubert could be. That has something to do with his personal life, too. He came from a very wealthy family and was very successful. He wasn’t really struggling, and his music isn’t really about struggle. Instead, it is crafted with extraordinary skill. It is full of inventive ideas, and above all it is joyful and colourful. Of course, when you go through the Songs Without Words, which span his life, you can feel that towards the end he begins to explore more dramatic territory. But he never really plunges into the depths of emotion. There is always a kind of veil, somehow, which I find very touching. He grew up in a different world. He was already successful when he was composing his early works, at a time when Beethoven, Schubert and Weber were still alive. In a sense, his musical language was more closely connected to the past than to the future. That is why many people have regarded him as a good craftsman: very bourgeois, elegant and refined, perhaps not such a profound composer. But I don’t think that is true. I love Schumann’s music, of course, and when you really delve into it, you find extraordinary depth. Schubert can be so melancholic, so extreme and sometimes so unsettling that his music really shakes you. Mendelssohn may not shake you in the same way, but for me, listening to his music is like seeing a whole spectrum of colours. It gives me enormous pleasure. There is so much invention, so much creativity, and sometimes such joy. That is valuable in itself. There are incredible ideas in almost every bar, and the music makes me very happy. But it isn’t only about happiness. When I recorded these songs, I went through all kinds of emotions, and I was surprised by the diversity of feeling contained in such short pieces. What I find particularly moving is that even when Mendelssohn has something very melancholy to express, he never does it in a showy way. His expression is very intimate, very personal. I find that deeply touching. His music brings about very special emotions, which are always on the edge. I’m very much in love with this music. I was so pleased to record all 48 pieces, and I’m proud that the album will be released soon. A musical universe of many constellations LC: You have a very diverse musical practice, and you work with so many different composers. At this point in your life, is there one composer who feels particularly close to your heart? BC: I can’t really say. There are too many. I spend a lot of time with Ravel, for example, because I’m curious about him and play his music all the time. I’m also creating a festival, so I’m quite obsessed with him at the moment. But there are so many composers I love. I also enjoy discovering new music, particularly contemporary music. I’m constantly commissioning new works. Next month I’ll be premiering two or three new pieces, and I already have many more premieres planned. I love that diversity, so it’s very difficult for me to single out just one composer. Even at the moment, I’m working on so many different things. For this season, I have a pile of Viennese music to learn — more than 3,000 pages. I’m very happy with all of it, but I find it difficult to give a single answer when there is so much going on. LC: Do all these projects influence one another? Or do you keep them separate, concentrating on one thing at a time? BC: They do influence one another. I like to put things into perspective. For me, it’s a big journey, almost a kind of creative process, in which I bring together all these musical works to build my own musical universe — or galaxy, I don’t know what to call it. It’s a constellation of things that don’t necessarily have obvious connections, but somehow I manage to bring them together. Sometimes those connections aren’t the ones you find in music-history books. I like the element of surprise, when you suddenly discover links that are unfamiliar, or perhaps even unconscious. Writer Lucy Cheung

法国钢琴家贝特朗·夏玛悠谈即兴、民间音乐与经常被误读的门德尔松。 By Lucy Cheung 11 October 2026 Read in English 刚凭借专辑《舒伯特四手联弹》（Schubert 4 Hands）与挪威钢琴家利夫·奥韦·安兹涅斯（Leif Ove Andsnes）共同获得2026留声机大奖钢琴类别录音奖项的法国钢琴演奏家贝特朗·夏玛悠（Bertrand Chamayou），10月9日登台伦敦威格莫尔音乐厅（Wigmore Hall）。他与挪威小提琴演奏家维尔德·弗朗（Vilde Frang），以及器乐多面手本杰明·埃雷迪奇（Benjamin Eredics）和萨拉蒙·埃雷迪奇（Salamon Eredics）合作，演奏了以巴托克与库塔格的20世纪作品为核心、并结合中东欧及巴尔干地区民间传统与即兴传统的音乐。 这场形式多样、层次丰富的音乐会，是夏玛悠作为威格莫尔本乐季驻场艺术家的其中一场演出。巴托克的《第一小提琴奏鸣曲》，以及选自《小宇宙》的作品，与库塔格《游戏》（Játékok）中的多个片段交织呈现；古典音乐、民间音乐与即兴彼此呼应，并加入带有阿拉伯音乐元素的即兴段落。埃雷迪奇兄弟对匈牙利、罗马尼亚和塞尔维亚民间音乐的改编，在小提琴、手风琴、小号、牧笛、葫芦丝、吉他与钢琴等乐器之间交替。 10月7日晚上的留声机大奖颁奖礼晚宴进行到尾声时，我与夏玛悠在席间简短交谈了20分钟。我请他谈了一下对不同音乐传统和即兴的理解、以及他下周即将发行的门德尔松作品专辑《无词歌》（Songs Without Words，又译《无言歌》）。安兹涅斯当晚没有出席颁奖礼，但上周他在接受即时Riff专访时曾谈到，自己大约在十年前初次与夏玛悠合作舒伯特《幻想曲》，已感觉到合作中少见的“轻松”和“自然”，当时两人便计划多在一起演奏舒伯特的作品：“与他合作时有种很自然的默契，我们仿佛以同样的方式呼吸，双手之间也似乎能直接交流。我们能够理解对方在键盘上的节奏和时间处理，不需要花很多时间解释每一个细节……在四手联弹的合作中，这样的体验非常难得。” 与夏玛悠交谈时已接近午夜，聊了几句后，我看着满脸微红的夏玛悠，意识到大家都已经喝了几杯，比较放松，也带了点疲惫。但在他偶尔失焦的眼神和近乎意识流的快速语句中，思维依然清晰，对待他人依然体恤。夏玛悠11月初还会到伦敦登台，届时我们将继续奉上一辑问题稍微清脆的“即时问卷”。 贝特朗·夏玛悠获颁2026年留声机大奖钢琴录音奖 Photo: Colin Miller 对话贝特朗·夏玛悠：门德尔松是被误解了 LC=张璐诗 BC=Bertrand Chamayou LC：你在威格莫尔音乐厅的音乐会，从巴托克和库塔格的作品延伸出去，同时加入了民间音乐和即兴。即兴对你来说意味着什么？ BC：其实我并不会在那场音乐会上进行即兴演奏。不过，话说回来，即兴对我来说意味着什么？即使我在这场音乐会上并不直接即兴，即兴其实仍然是整个节目的一个组成部分。 从我还是个孩子、刚开始弹钢琴的时候起，我就一直在即兴。那时候，对我来说，演奏、读谱、作曲和即兴本来就是一个整体。后来，我当然把更多精力投入到音乐诠释之中。 但首先，作曲和当代音乐一直是我工作的核心，而即兴也以某种方式存在于其中。比如，有些音乐本身就非常接近即兴。库塔格的一些作品便是如此，有些段落并没有按照传统方式完全写定音高，演奏者需要自己把握，乐谱这时更像是一种指引，这因此也有点像即兴。 不过，在这场音乐会上，情况又有些不同。我们从一部主要的奏鸣曲开始，也就是巴托克的《第一小提琴奏鸣曲》。作品规模很大，全曲大约45分钟。我觉得它基本上是20世纪最恢宏、最具冲击力的奏鸣曲，可以说，有点像是“20世纪的《克罗采奏鸣曲》”。 然后，我们围绕这部作品发展出了整个节目。我与两位非常出色的传统音乐演奏家合作，他们是兄弟，萨拉蒙和本杰明。他们演奏各种各样的乐器，整场演出中会用到大约十到十五件不同的乐器。我们一起构思、创造了这个节目。我也会演奏巴托克《小宇宙》中的一些作品，以及库塔格的《游戏》。我们从匈牙利的音乐根源出发，一点一点地展开整个节目。 我们还会与维尔德·弗朗、本杰明和萨拉蒙一起演奏一些根据传统音乐改编的作品。这些音乐同样与即兴非常接近。有些旋律是写下来的，但我们演奏它们的方式更接近口述传统，它们并不是完全是记谱音乐。 LC：那么，本乐季你在威格莫尔音乐厅驻场，希望观众看到一个怎样的你？ BC：我很喜欢策划节目，也喜欢音乐中的流动感，不喜欢一成不变、过于刻板的东西。我希望能以不同的方式呈现自己，也很享受这种多样性。每次我在一个地方驻场，比如说，这并不是我第一次在威格莫尔音乐厅驻场，这次我会安排三场音乐会，这就是一个机会，让观众看到我在工作中的某些侧面。 接下来，我还有一场独奏会，以门德尔松的《无词歌》为核心，并穿插一些更当代的音乐。整个节目都围绕一个问题展开：究竟什么是无词之歌？ 此外，我还有一场音乐会将围绕埃里克·萨蒂和约翰·凯奇的音乐展开，并与芭芭拉·汉尼根（Barbara Hannigan）合作。所以，这是三个截然不同的项目。当然，如果可以，我很愿意做二十个、二十五个项目，让大家看到更多不同的侧面。 10月9日，贝特朗·夏玛悠与维尔德·弗朗和埃雷迪奇兄弟在威格莫尔音乐厅 摄影：张璐诗 LC：我刚好也想问问《无词歌》。你现在还有一张新专辑，“无词歌”究竟意味着什么？ BC：下一张专辑其实是一张非常纯粹的门德尔松专辑。我录制了完整的《无词歌》，一共48首，总时长大约两个小时。我希望这张专辑有一条非常纯粹的线索，就像一部记录门德尔松一生的日记。 首先，我觉得这是一组非常出色的作品，但完整录音并不算多。其中五六首非常著名，其他作品却没有那么广为人知。我认为，这些作品的质量都非常高，音乐本身非常出色，值得被更多人了解。 此外，我还录制了另一张专辑，目前还没有开始剪辑。这张专辑的名字将叫做“Song Without (Good) Words”（《没有好词的歌》，艾夫斯一首作品以此为标题——作者注），可以说是与门德尔松《无词歌》相呼应的一种思考。专辑收录了许多不同的作品，它们都以各自的方式回应着“无词歌”这一概念。我目前正在演出的独奏会中，选入了大约12首门德尔松的《无词歌》，并将它们与其他一些“歌曲”交织在一起，包括艾夫斯、福雷的作品，由武满彻改编的披头士歌曲，以及李斯特改编的舒曼作品等。 第二部分则包括两部与“歌曲”这一概念密切相关的幻想性作品。其中一部是舒伯特著名的《流浪者幻想曲》，它与舒伯特的艺术歌曲《流浪者》有着直接的联系，幻想曲的主题正是从这首歌曲中发展而来。另一部是美国作曲家乔治·克拉姆（George Crumb）创作于21世纪的作品《小小午夜音乐》（Eine kleine Mitternachtmusik），以塞隆尼斯·蒙克（Thelonious Monk）的爵士名曲《午夜圆舞曲》（’Round Midnight）为基础展开。 LC：你会弹爵士吗？ BC：不会，我的意思是，我很喜欢爵士，也喜欢许多不同类型的音乐，但我确实认为，要在一种音乐里做到真正出色，很难胜过那些每天都沉浸其中、以此为生的音乐家。就像我演奏古典音乐，尤其是那些我长期钻研的作曲家的作品一样，想要真正演奏好一种音乐，就必须熟悉它的语言。 所以，我可以弹一点爵士，也可以尝试一些类似的东西，但很难达到自己理想中的水平，更不用说和如今那么多优秀的爵士钢琴家相比了。有时，我会通过一些项目与其他领域的音乐家交流、碰撞，但除此之外，我还是希望专注于自己最擅长的事情。 LC：录制完整《无词歌》这件事，为什么是现在？还是说，这只是一个偶然的决定？ BC：它总是既有偶然性，又不完全是偶然。某种程度上，也跟人生走到哪个阶段有关。大约20年前，我曾经为Naïve唱片公司录制过一张门德尔松独奏专辑，那是我最早的几张独奏专辑之一。当时，我选了不少不太为人熟知的作品，其中也包括五首《无词歌》。为了挑选曲目，我实际上把整套《无词歌》都视奏了一遍。全套一共有八册，每册六首，总共48首。当时，这些作品的质量真的让我很震撼，因为其中大部分我之前根本不知道。 那时候我就想，好吧，我现在正在录制一张门德尔松独奏专辑，里面有前奏曲、幻想曲、变奏曲等等，各种类型的作品都有。但也许有一天，我应该考虑把完整的《无词歌》录下来，因为这套作品的完整录音其实并不多。从那以后，这个想法就一直留在我脑海里。随着时间过去，它始终都在我的愿望清单上。后来，可以说，其中也有直觉的作用，我在某个时刻就觉得，时机到了。所以，这件事应该是介于计划与偶然之间。 贝特朗·夏玛悠在2026年留声机大奖上演奏 Photo: Jamie Hodgskin LC：专门录制门德尔松作品似乎并不那么常见，他的音乐对你来说有怎样的吸引力？我们经常听到对他的音乐的评价，大都是“流于表面”，或是“过于精致、优雅”。 BC：没错，门德尔松一直以来都被误解了。首先，他确实不是像李斯特、瓦格纳或柏辽兹那样具有先锋性的作曲家。即使是肖邦，也可以说是一位相当现代的作曲家。门德尔松本身也不是一位戏剧性特别强的作曲家，不像舒曼或舒伯特那样。这与他的个人经历也有关系。他出生于一个非常富裕的家庭，一生相当成功，没有经历过太多挣扎。他的音乐也很少围绕“挣扎”展开。相反，他有着极其出色的创作技艺，充满了新颖的想法，整体上又是欢乐的、色彩丰富的。 当然，当你从头到尾听完这套贯穿他一生的《无词歌》，会发现到了生命的最后阶段，他的音乐开始触及更多戏剧性的东西。但即便如此，他也没有真正深入情感的深处。他的音乐仿佛总隔着一层薄纱，而这恰恰是我觉得很动人的地方。他与其他作曲家很不一样，因为他成长于一个截然不同的世界。即使在创作早期作品时，他就已经相当成功了。要知道，那时贝多芬、舒伯特和韦伯都还在世。因此，从某种意义上说，他的音乐语言更多地与过去相连，而不是面向未来。所以，很多人会认为，他是一位出色的工匠，音乐带有布尔乔亚的趣味，优雅、精致，每个细节都处理得无可挑剔，但也许算不上特别深刻的作曲家。 不过，我并不认同这种看法。我当然非常喜欢舒曼的音乐。真正深入其中，你会发现他的音乐有着极其深刻的内涵。舒伯特也是如此，他的音乐充满忧郁，有时甚至令人不安，真的会震撼你。但门德尔松也许不会以同样的方式震撼你。对我来说，他更像是向你展现无数种色彩，带来巨大的愉悦。他的音乐充满创造力，有时又是那么欢乐，而这本身就非常珍贵。他的音乐几乎每一个小节都充满创造性，里面藏着令人难以置信的想法。首先，这是一种真正让我感到快乐的音乐。 但也不只是快乐而已。在录制这套《无词歌》的过程中，我经历了各种各样的情绪，而这些情绪竟然都浓缩在如此短小的作品里。它们所展现出的多样性，甚至让我自己都感到惊讶。还有一点特别令我感动：即使门德尔松需要表达非常忧郁的情绪，他也从不刻意炫耀或刻意渲染。他的表达非常私人，非常内在。我觉得这一点同样动人。它带来一种非常特别的情绪，仿佛始终徘徊在边缘地带。所以，我真的非常热爱他的作品。我很高兴自己能够录下这48首《无词歌》，也为此感到自豪。这张专辑很快就要发行了。 LC：你刚才也提到，你的音乐实践非常多元，涉猎的作曲家也很多。那么，在你目前这个阶段，有没有哪位作曲家在你心目中特别亲近？ BC：最近，我花了很多时间研究拉威尔，我对他充满好奇，一直在演奏他的作品，还在筹办一个音乐节，所以现在可以说对他有点沉迷。不过，我喜欢的作曲家实在太多了，我也非常喜欢探索新的音乐，尤其是当代音乐，我一直在委约创作新作品，下个月，我就要首演两三部新作，之后也已经安排了很多新作品的首演。我真的很享受这种多样性。但即使只说此时此刻，我也很难只挑出一位与自己“最亲近”的作曲家，因为我同时在接触许多不同的东西；这一季，我还有一大堆维也纳音乐要学，加起来大概有三千多页。 LC：这些不同项目之间会不会互相影响？还是说，你分开处理，先专注于一个项目，再转向另一个？ BC：它们当然会互相影响，我喜欢把不同的东西放在一个更大的背景中去看。对我来说，这就像一场漫长的旅程，也有点像策展。我把所有这些音乐作品放在一起，它们共同搭建起我自己的“音乐宇宙”，或者说“银河系”，我也不知道该怎么形容，就像一个由很多样事物组成的星座，有时这些作品之间并没有特别明显的联系，但我会以自己的方式把它们连接起来。而这种联系，有时并不是音乐史书上会告诉你的那种关系。我喜欢这种意外的发现。有时你会突然察觉到一些此前从未留意过的。 Writer Lucy Cheung

By Lucy Cheung 08 October 2026 阅读中文版 The 2026 Gramophone Classical Music Awards were announced in London last night, with German violinist Isabelle Faust taking home both Artist of the Year and the Concerto Award. The Piano Award went to Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes and French pianist Bertrand Chamayou for their album Schubert 4 Hands, while French harpsichordist Jean Rondeau won the Instrumental Award for Louis Couperin: The Complete Works and the coveted Recording of the Year, while the public-voted Orchestra of the Year was claimed by the Bamberg Symphony Orchestra. Bertrand Chamayou performs at the ceremony © Jamie Hodgskin Chamayou, Faust and Alexander Malofeev, who was named Young Artist of the Year, were among those who performed at the ceremony, alongside the Pavel Haas Quartet, winners of the Chamber Award. Sakari Oramo, who accepted the Orchestral Award on stage last night for his recording of orchestral works by Polish composer Grażyna Bacewicz with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, recalled his first encounter with her music: “What is this language? This beautiful, poetic music, full of fury and intimacy. It was totally original. It has completely crystallised in our souls. There is still so much more to discover about Grażyna Bacewicz. I’m still trying to understand her as a true musical virtuoso.” The Riff Magazine will be publishing a series of conversations with this year’s winners, including Leif Ove Andsnes, Bertrand Chamayou and Isabelle Faust. We begin with Martin Cullingford, Publisher and Editor of Gramophone, reflecting on this year’s winning recordings and artists. This is Cullingford’s third year overseeing the Gramophone Awards. Among the most significant changes he has witnessed, he says, is that “recordings of any kind now have a chance of winning.” There is no longer a fixed idea of what kind of record can win and what might only receive a nomination or special mention. If a recording inspires people, it has a chance to win—whether it’s an outstanding contemporary work, an ambitious project, or repertoire from the established canon. Isabelle Faust at the ceremony © Colin Miller Martin Cullingford in Conversation (Part II): “The canon itself is being reconsidered” LC=Lucy Cheung MC=Martin Cullingford On Isabelle Faust LC: Let’s begin with Isabelle Faust. She has previously received a Gramophone Award. Why do you think her artistry continues to receive such recognition? What is it about her playing that continues to set her apart? MC: I think when you hear her play something, it feels so deeply thought through, and so individual. But she also has an extraordinary sound. It’s amazing colour and strength. Even when it’s pianissimo, there’s a sort of colour and strength to it. I think every time you hear her play, there’s just this whole sense that she deeply believes in what it is that she’s playing. That seems like an obvious thing to say, because all musicians should believe in what they’re playing, but it really does come across. When she’s collaborating with others, I suspect she’s one of those people who inspires those around her and creates a wonderful sense of music-making. She also just explores all sorts of repertoire, whether it’s Bach or Ligeti, as in this year’s case, or concertos. And I suspect there’s a desire not to be pigeonholed in terms of repertoire, so she draws on all sorts of different kinds of music-making. Probably everything informs everything. And she’s one of those musicians who, I think, future generations will look back on her work, her legacy and her recordings, and realise what a central figure she was to our classical music era. On Leif Ove Andsnes and Bertrand Chamayou: Schubert 4 Hands LC: Schubert is one of the most recorded composers. This year, Bertrand Chamayou and Leif Ove Andsnes’s Schubert 4 Hands won the Piano Award. Do you think the two pianists discovered something new in these familiar works that made the Gramophone Awards judges feel there was a reason for listeners to hear them again? MC: I particularly wanted to talk about this recording because it’s just so wonderful. What struck me most is the wonderful rapport and relationship between the two performers. What you hear is not two pianists each playing separately, but music that is woven together between them. These works depend on the interaction between the performers, and when that interaction really happens, the listening experience itself becomes enormously enjoyable. It’s a little bit like chamber music. You’re hearing collaborative music-making, but there are few enough people involved that you can really sense the communication between them. I think this kind of music ultimately depends on whether the performers can play it in a way that is enjoyable, moving or compelling. They’re both extremely fine pianists who normally perform largely as soloists, so to be able to work with another equally outstanding soloist must be a very enjoyable thing for them as well. On The New Generation LC: Every year we see new young musicians emerging. What are you looking for in the next generation of classical musicians? Beyond technical ability, how can you recognise that a young musician has a voice of their own? MC: I think what we’re looking for is someone who plays something that feels natural to them. They’re not trying to play like the generation above them, and they’re not trying to be unusually wilful or different just for the sake of it. What matters is that everything they do feels natural, as though this is simply how they understand and express the music. Obviously, you can’t categorise all young musicians in the same way, but there is something interesting about the current generation. We were talking earlier about how musical interpretation changes at different stages. In the middle of the 20th century, there was a grand romantic style of playing. Then the period movement came along, and some people approached music with quite a purist attitude. Of course, that also brought completely new ways of listening, whether to Bach’s vocal music or his instrumental music. And the influence of the period movement didn’t remain confined to Baroque music. It also encouraged musicians to approach composers such as Mahler and Ravel with a greater awareness of historical performance practice. I think the younger generation now seems freer. They can draw on all these different traditions and apply them in whatever way they feel is right for the music, rather than feeling that they have to follow one particular set of principles. They’re actually drawing on the recording tradition of the whole of the last century. When I talk to young musicians about the recordings they’ve listened to, I’m often surprised by how many of them go back to very early recordings. I think one reason may be that there’s a sense of freedom in some of those early performances. Recording is obviously an extraordinary thing, but it can also create an idea of the “perfect performance”, with performers and listeners gradually developing expectations of a certain standard. I don’t know whether that idea is completely right, but it seems like an interesting theory worth exploring. Young musicians today are very accustomed to broadcasting, streaming and live streaming, and they know that their performances may be preserved forever. Perhaps because of that, they don’t constantly think that what they are doing at this particular moment is going to become some kind of permanent benchmark. They can feel freer to be music-makers, without feeling that everything they do now has to become some kind of benchmark that will last forever. I think perhaps you can hear some of that change in the playing of this generation. Another important aspect is that they are exposed to a much wider range of music than previous generations were. I recently interviewed the composer Colin Matthews, who talked about his involvement in a London Symphony Orchestra project for young composers. I asked him whether there was anything about these young composers that surprised him, and he said their frame of reference was completely different from that of his generation. When people of his generation mentioned Stockhausen, everyone would normally know who they were talking about. But today, young people may not have the same awareness of certain composers who were once regarded as important. In the past, generation after generation of musicians seemed to take it for granted that they needed to know the established musical canon. But now that canon itself is being reconsidered, and perhaps everything is up for grabs. I think that makes young musicians more interesting as well. On Gramophone, Streaming and the Future of the Awards LC: Today, almost every recording is available through streaming. What can a specialist publication such as Gramophone provide that algorithms and playlists cannot? MC: This is something we think and talk about almost every day as a publication. For most of our history, Gramophone was essentially a buying guide for records. Until about ten years ago, our role was very clear: how much money does the reader have to spend this month, and how can they spend it wisely on records they might like? That has completely changed. Perhaps now we need to help readers think more consciously about how they spend their time listening. We still review records, and I think there is still value in listening carefully to a recording, thinking about what the artist has done, and trying to understand and communicate those artistic choices. What I hope the magazine can do now, at every stage, is help readers listen in a more informed and prepared way, and therefore get more out of the experience. In fact, the streaming era puts us in quite an interesting position, because comparative listening has always been an important part of Gramophone’s tradition. If you’re listening to a Beethoven concerto, you might want to know how it differs from other recordings. In the past, we could write about those comparisons in the magazine, but readers would then have to go to a record shop and buy different recordings to make the comparison themselves. Now you can simply open a streaming service and hear all sorts of different versions. So we’re always trying to put recordings into a broader context, encouraging readers to think about what they’re hearing, and also encouraging them to go towards music they might not otherwise have chosen to explore. Now you can follow an unexpected path of discovery without having to spend much, if anything, extra. If you told the founders of Gramophone that today people could press a button and almost instantly hear virtually every piece of music that has ever been recorded, it would still sound extraordinary, even now. But that is the reality. And in the past, people’s access to a lot of repertoire depended not only on whether a recording existed, but also on whether there was an orchestra in their city performing that music. Now you can hear almost anything at almost any time. That has changed our relationship with music. LC: And at a time when people are increasingly accustomed to listening to music one track at a time, why do you think the album still matters? MC: Because classical music is generally not a short-form art form. Of course, you can listen to a Schubert impromptu, a nocturne or an étude on its own and get an enormous amount of satisfaction from it. But these pieces are often also part of a larger whole. When you hear them within a broader context, you realise that their meaning goes beyond the individual piece itself. An aria can of course be listened to on its own, and it can be incredibly beautiful. But it is also part of an unfolding musical journey within a Passion or an opera. When you hear it as part of the whole, the work takes on a richer meaning. Another interesting phenomenon is the renewed interest in vinyl. I think that reflects something important. In an age when you can press a button and immediately hear any piece of music, people still want to sit down and listen consciously, and listen through a work in its entirety. Vinyl of course has its own ritual. You have to put the needle down and then listen all the way to the end. When you develop the ability to concentrate on listening for a longer period of time, you can really experience the kind of feeling that a Mahler symphony can create at the end, something that goes beyond everyday experience. Or take Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, or Elgar’s First. When the theme returns at the end, it seems to gather everything that has come before into that moment, and it’s profoundly moving. If you haven’t listened to the whole work as a whole, it’s difficult for that experience to happen in quite the same way. LC: Next year marks the 50th anniversary of the Gramophone Awards. Looking back over the past half-century, what role do you think these winning recordings have played in shaping our understanding of great recordings and in reshaping our understanding of music history? At the same time, how has the idea of what makes a “great recording” changed? And what do you most hope the Gramophone Awards will continue to preserve in the future? MC: It’s quite moving to think about some of those important moments in the past. For example, The Tallis Scholars won the 1987 Record of the Year with a recording of music by Josquin. Looking back, the fact that an early-music recording could win such an important award as Record of the Year, and receive such prominent recognition on the awards stage, was really significant. Today, if a recording like that won, we probably wouldn’t find it particularly surprising. I remember about thirteen years ago, when I first became editor, Vox Luminis won with a recording of Schütz. At the time, nobody really thought of it as a record that was too obscure or difficult to understand. Now we have a much more open understanding of what kind of music can win an important award. Writer Lucy Cheung

皇家歌剧院新制作的瓦格纳《帕西法尔》以冷峻的水泥废墟和赛博朋克式的魔法花园重构救赎寓言，赫鲁沙的音乐处理流动而克制，格哈赫尔以极具控制力的演唱塑造悲情的安福塔斯。 By Lucy Cheung 06 October 2026 When 2026年10月1日 Where 伦敦考文特花园皇家歌剧院（Royal Opera House） Who 导演：埃夫根尼·蒂托夫（Evgeny Titov） 指挥：雅库布·赫鲁沙（Jakub Hrůša） 主演： 圣杯国王安福塔斯：当代艺术歌曲大师、德国男中音克里斯蒂安·格哈赫尔（Christian Gerhaher） 帕西法尔：法国中生代男高音斯坦尼斯拉斯·德·巴贝拉克（Stanislas de Barbeyrac） 昆德丽：俄罗斯女中音、炙手可热的瓦格纳戏剧女中音叶卡捷琳娜·古巴诺娃（Ekaterina Gubanova） 古尔内曼茨：英国老牌男低音布林德利·谢拉特（Brindley Sherratt） What 瓦格纳最后一部乐剧《帕西法尔》（Parsifal）全新制作版首演。演出全长约5小时30分钟（含两次中场休息）。 Why 皇家歌剧院2026/27演出季分量最重的年度新制作首演。 皇家歌剧院新版《帕西法尔》首演谢幕 摄影：张璐诗 记一笔 开场的幽暗精神旅程，压抑了点 此次版本的制作是蒂托夫的考文特花园首秀。瓦格纳在《帕西法尔》第一幕中写下：“在这里，时间化为空间。”导演没有使用原作中繁复的宗教符号，而是和舞美设计一起将舞台布置成冷酷的水泥废墟，外加一排现代监控系统。第一幕就是一个介于地堡、工厂与大教堂之间的混凝土森林，灯光保持在黑白灰之内。大柱子有时移动，分割空间时带出光影变化，将人的心理导向“无法逃离”的炼狱方向。 赛博朋克的“魔法花园”，赶走了阴郁 看完离场搭上巴士，旁边一位英国姐姐，估计是看我夹着节目册，开腔搭讪，问我觉得今晚制作怎么样。她说多年前看过“明亮”一点的制作版本，觉得舞台设计过于阴森压抑了。我觉得，光看第一幕的话，第一次幕间休息时心理上感觉忽然松绑，因而还没出现到第二次幕间休息时的“迫不及待要看下去”。 第二幕，转移到了恶魔克林索尔的魔法花园，但导演处理成了堆满电线、超大屏幕和陈列柜的地堡，妖娆的花妖们在这里变成了赛博朋克仿生人，戴着假乳和看起来让人联想昆虫的头饰，与帕西法尔拉扯。这种极度的超现实和现代感，在古巴诺娃一时圣洁一时沉沦的惊艳唱腔中，是人性的脆弱让人揪心，更多于冷冽和荒诞。而在这火石交睫的迷局尽头，帕西法尔举起从克林索尔那里夺回的圣矛捅灭屏幕，让人进而对意志已定的“英雄”下一幕的表现充满期待。 格哈赫尔的圣杯国王，悲情而劲道 克里斯蒂安·格哈赫尔饰演圣杯国王安福塔斯 © Marc Brenner 格哈赫尔饰演圣杯国王安福塔斯，整场都在给大家演示大师课。一向体面示人的男中音为艺术牺牲，整场可以说是衣不蔽体。他的声音表现有种老派的功底，能令人想起迪特里希·费舍尔-迪斯考和伊丽莎白·施瓦茨科普夫所代表的德国声乐传统；身体语言的每一个动态也都跟得上发声和咬字，一样的敏锐锋利。 作为当今德国艺术歌曲演绎的代表性人物，格哈赫尔最擅长微雕一般的控制力。渲染痛苦的方式不是戏剧的“大音量”，而是利用极其精准的吐词和弱音变化，把每一个音符都吐纳得鞭辟入里。克制无比却雷霆千钧，便是所谓的“劲道”。 指挥家赫鲁沙的掌控力 皇家歌剧院管弦乐团的表现当晚令人喜欢。瓦格纳晚期的慢板音乐极难驾驭，稍有不慎就会流于冗长呆板。但这版具有一种奇妙的流动性，在赫鲁沙的敏锐掌控下，乐句的交替如同呼吸，松紧有度，一直牵引着听觉。 埃夫根尼·蒂托夫的新版《帕西法尔》制作 © Marc Brenner 结局如此眼睑低垂 老圣杯国王在担架床上，帕西法尔用圣矛为他治愈伤口，但他奄奄一息还未苏醒；帕西法尔在旁轻轻饮泣一阵，走过来，钻到老国王躺着的担架下层，曲起了身体。灯光熄灭。 在歌剧院里从下午坐到夜里，看着救赎者最终成为了新的受禁锢者，这个结局出人意料，让人有点愕然，又带点寒意离场。导演的视角带了一点悲悯，两代圣杯国王的身份在这一刻交叠，然而没有圣杯之光。其实也看得意犹未尽的。 Writer Lucy Cheung

玛丽·雅科本乐季成为西德广播交响乐团史上首位女性首席指挥，在与伦敦爱乐乐团的首次合作中，她执棒德沃夏克《大提琴协奏曲》与弗朗克《d小调交响曲》，在谨慎试探中逐渐找到自己的语言。 By Lucy Cheung 06 October 2026 When 2026年10月2日 Where 伦敦皇家节日大厅（Royal Festival Hall） Who 法国指挥家玛丽·雅科（Marie Jacquot）：本乐季正式出任西德广播交响乐团（WDR Symphony Orchestra）首席指挥，成为这个1947年成立、拥有近八十年历史的德国广播乐团首位女性首席指挥。 基安·索尔塔尼（Kian Soltani）：来自波斯音乐家庭，曾是由巴伦博伊姆和萨义德共同创立的西东合集乐团（West-Eastern Divan Orchestra）的首席大提琴，今日是活跃于国际舞台的独奏家。 伦敦爱乐乐团（London Philharmonic Orchestra，LPO） What 德沃夏克《大提琴协奏曲》、弗朗克《d小调交响曲》 Why 玛丽·雅科首次与LPO合作。 玛丽·雅科合作基安·索尔塔尼与伦敦爱乐乐团 摄影：张璐诗 记一笔 这位正在逐渐建立自己国际身份的指挥家，2016年曾在巴伐利亚国家歌剧院担任基里尔·别得连科的助理指挥，参与米罗斯拉夫·斯恩卡（Miroslav Srnka）歌剧《南极》的世界首演，此后又在慕尼黑歌剧节独立执棒两部制作。2023年至2026年，她担任维也纳交响乐团首席客席指挥；2024/25乐季起，又出任哥本哈根皇家剧院首席指挥。歌剧与交响乐兼顾的指挥家，近年逐渐受到欧洲重要乐团的关注，本乐季，雅科成为西德广播交响乐团史上的第一位女性首席指挥，乐团对她的评价是“严谨而扎实的音乐工作，以及鲜明独到的音乐塑造”。 她与伦敦爱乐合作的上半场带来德沃夏克《大提琴协奏曲》。这部作品的焦点自然落在独奏家索尔塔尼身上：这位出生于奥地利的大提琴家，来自波斯音乐家庭，四岁学琴，早期参加西东合集乐团，后来走上国际独奏舞台，2017年与德意志留声机签下独家唱片合约，随之推出首张个人专辑《归家》（Home），将舒伯特、舒曼与伊朗裔美国作曲家雷扎·瓦利的作品放在一起；几年后发行的《无限大提琴》（Cello Unlimited）则把自己对电影音乐的热爱变成通过多轨录音叠加、独自录制完成的“大提琴乐团”。索尔塔尼曾与巴伦博伊姆及柏林国家管弦乐团录制德沃夏克《大提琴协奏曲》。面对这部作品庞大而又极其私人化的情感世界，他的1694年斯特拉迪瓦里琴发出接近人声的歌唱感，情感充沛，只是推到情绪高点时，有点收不住。 上半场的雅科似乎还没有完全找到与伦敦爱乐相处的方式，有几处感觉到她有点犹疑不决，在寻找合适的入口。德沃夏克这部作品又如此依赖独奏者、指挥与乐团之间的细微平衡，乐团的声音稍微拘束，某些段落甚至不太利落，听得出是指挥家和乐团还在彼此试探，尚待时间去建立共同的呼吸感。 到了下半场的弗朗克交响曲，感觉指挥家似乎找回了自己的语言，忽然打开了。犹疑不决完全不见了，音乐开始自然流动。她的指挥动作不多，但比上半场有把握，显出了自己的气质，并且没有“浪漫化”弗朗克：这部交响曲不是一部能简单归类的作品，作曲家是照着德奥交响曲的骨架去创作，但主题在三个乐章间不断回返、变形，严谨的结构里不时有接近管风琴的即兴感汩汩冒出。第二乐章英国管的旋律则带着歌唱的自由；到了终曲，乐团各声部层层打开，弦乐、木管、铜管各自的色彩浮现。雅科的“飞”，也令人听见了某种内心的自由。也正是这部交响曲的现场，让人有了以后看更多雅科现场的愿望，好奇她面对其他曲目时会有怎样的处理。 Writer Lucy Cheung

备受行业关注的2026留声机大奖（Gramophone Awards），将于下周10月7日在伦敦举行颁奖典礼。上周，我们约《留声机》杂志出版人兼主编马丁·库灵福德（Martin Cullingford）做了一次详尽的访谈。对他而言，评奖不仅是对过去一年杰出录音的盘点，也是一次对核心曲库传统的重新审视。本次专访将分为上下两篇，于颁奖礼前后陆续发布。 By Lucy Cheung 03 October 2026 对话马丁·库灵福德 LC=张璐诗 MC= Martin Cullingford Read in English 入围名单反映的趋势 LC：从马尔蒂努（捷克20世纪作曲家Bohuslav Martinů）、巴切维茨（波兰20世纪作曲家Grażyna Bacewicz），到舒伯特、肖斯塔科维奇和萨里亚霍（芬兰作曲家Kaija Saariaho），看今年的入围名单，录音和曲目很多样化。名单中最令你印象深刻的是什么？这些风格迥异的录音之间，有没有一条贯穿始终的线索？ MC：我认为，今年名单中最突出的特点，或者说一个贯穿其中的重要特征，就是录音和曲目本身的多样性。当然，这并不是今年才有的现象，但今年这种多样性确实特别值得留意。 我们现在谈论的，已经不是初选名单，而是每个类别缩减至三张唱片后的最终入围名单。以协奏曲类别为例，入围作品涉及的作曲家包括了托马斯·阿德斯（Thomas Adès）、埃尔加、利盖蒂和肖斯塔科维奇，这里面既有20世纪的作品，也有更近的创作，阿德斯的作品甚至可说属于21世纪。传统上，协奏曲类别很容易由柴可夫斯基或贝多芬这样的作曲家主导，但今年入围的作品却更多来自现代时期。这是我特别留意的一点。 早期音乐类别当然一直关注早期作品。不过，另一个让我觉得很有意思的现象是，一些不那么常见的曲目，开始在不同类别中脱颖而出。以合唱类别为例，其中既有长期探索较少为人所知的作曲家的计划，也有约翰·路德维希·巴赫（Johann Ludwig Bach）的作品。他是约翰·塞巴斯蒂安·巴赫的远亲。事实上，这些作品之所以能够保存下来，很大程度上是因为得到约翰·塞巴斯蒂安·巴赫的欣赏，因而得以保留下来，巴赫还亲自演出。当然，合唱类别中也有《约翰受难曲》这样的经典作品，但名单里同时出现这些不那么容易预料的曲目，正是今年令人兴奋之处。 再看器乐类别，我们有巴赫的奏鸣曲与组曲，但演奏乐器是曼陀林（由美国演奏家克里斯·蒂尔Chris Thile担纲）。这是一张非常优美的专辑，而且是在户外游乐场（纽约曼哈顿的汤普金斯广场公园Tompkins Square Park）录制，录音中保留了环境的声音。还有路易·库普兰（Louis Couperin），人们通常更熟悉另一位库普兰（弗朗索瓦·库普兰François Couperin，又名“大库普兰”，路易·库普兰的亲侄子）。这次入围的是一项规模惊人的计划，整整十张专辑，聚焦于路易·库普兰的作品。此外，还有维拉-洛博斯（Heitor Villa-Lobos）的吉他音乐，我非常喜爱他的作品，所以很高兴看到这张入围。 这反映出一种持续发展的行业趋势：艺术家和唱片公司或许已经意识到，现有的录音目录如此庞大，而听众也乐于接触不那么熟悉的作品，因此他们愿意在曲目选择上承担一定风险。最终，我们也因此得以听到这些新的发现。 LC：你已经提到了，今年我们看到约翰·路德维希·巴赫的康塔塔、让·隆多（Jean Rondeau）演奏的路易·库普兰作品全集，以及安·哈伦伯格（Ann Hallenberg）演绎的格鲁克咏叹调，听这些录音时，你觉得演奏者是如何让几个世纪前的音乐听起来依然新鲜的？这种生命力更多是源于作品本身，还是取决于演奏者的诠释？ MC：音乐本身显然是最根本的，能够历经几个世纪仍然留存下来，并持续激发人们的灵感，这已经说明了作品自身的力量。但最终，我认为关键还是在于演奏者。如果一部艺术作品，或者一份乐谱，不能被每一代人以一种能够与当代人对话、同时也能反映当代经验的方式重新诠释，那么它最终就可能变成博物馆里的展品。显然，这些作品并没有成为这样的展品。 以路易·库普兰为例，让·隆多是一位非常有意思的年轻艺术家。他真正在做的是从自己的角度出发，思考这些音乐在21世纪意味着什么。他将这些作品当作一位生活在今天的艺术家去理解和演绎，如果你回头去听20世纪五十年代的巴赫录音，会发现它们与今天的录音非常不同，因为那些演奏同样是在与当时的听众对话，反映着当时的审美期待、人们对音乐的理解，也反映出音乐在当时如何触动人心、给予人们力量。 到了20世纪九十年代，我认为“本真运动”带来了一个很鲜明的时期，演奏者在相当长的一段时间里，特别关注历史演奏方式。如今我们已经走过了那个阶段，年轻一代的演奏者从不同传统中汲取养分，融合各种影响，创造出属于自己的声音。 今年的入围名单中当然也有当代音乐，而当代音乐可以说是今天音乐创作最直接的表达。但像克里斯·蒂尔这样演奏巴赫的音乐家，也同样体现了当代艺术家如何与这个世界互动、如何思考，以及他们对音乐产生怎样的情感回应。我认为，这恰恰是音乐最具力量的地方。 重新发现被忽视的作曲家 LC：刚才谈到名单中的多样性，我也想到巴切维茨的作品，以及帕维尔·哈斯四重奏（Pavel Haas Quartet）等录音，都是把一些相对少见的曲目带到了聚光灯下。你认为近年为什么会出现这种重新发现？一张出色的录音，是否真能改变一位作曲家在曲库体系中的地位？ MC：这是一个很有意思的问题。我认为，出现这种现象的其中一个原因，是贝多芬、莫扎特的作品已经有了数量惊人的录音。当然，我们仍然希望人们继续演奏这些伟大的作品，但录音实在太多了。如果有人决定再次录制这些作品并发行唱片，就必须有一个非常明确的理由，说明为什么他们的演绎值得加入现有的录音目录，为什么听众还需要听到这样一个新版本。 而如果录制的是巴切维茨的作品，情况就不一样了。萨卡里·奥拉莫（Sakari Oramo，BBC交响乐团首席指挥）曾经谈到，他自己其实也是大约十年前才发现巴切维茨的音乐；她曾是鲜为人知的作曲家，如今逐渐获得更多关注。西里西亚弦乐四重奏（Silesian String Quartet）录制了她的室内乐作品（在英国Chandos唱片旗下录制的专辑《Grażyna Bacewicz: Complete String Quartets》曾获2017年留声机大奖“室内乐奖”），奥拉莫也一直在推广她的交响乐作品。对于乐团的演奏者来说，这些作品同样是一种新的发现。我认为，这种探索本身就有一种令人兴奋的力量。 马尔蒂努的知名度相对较高，但帕维尔·哈斯四重奏的这张录音，依然有力地说明了为什么他的作品值得成为弦乐四重奏曲目中的核心。回顾20世纪前半叶，甚至直到世纪中叶，马勒的音乐也远没有今天这样广为人知。后来，布鲁诺·瓦尔特，继而伯恩斯坦等指挥家不断演奏和推广他的作品，才真正改变了人们对这位作曲家的认识。 这样的变化一直在发生，未来也会继续。我觉得，这正是音乐世界令人兴奋的地方。说到底，听众其实很乐意接触从未听过的音乐，只要艺术家能够像我们刚才谈到的那样，全情投入、专注地演绎，听众自然能够感受到。 （有人来冲茶） LC：这款（普洱）茶带有一点烟熏味。也许再泡一会儿，味道会更浓一些。现在喝起来还是有点淡，不过已经能闻到它的香气了。 MC：哇，它确实有一种特别的气息，有点像在篝火旁，植物被火烘烤时散发出来的味道。 LC：现在茶刚刚冲好，所以味道比较清淡。 MC：是的。他们还用了计时器，显然是觉得时间到了，茶已经泡好了。不过，这茶很好喝。喝茶也有一种让人保持温暖的感觉。 何为“出色的录音” LC：我来问一个很基本的问题：什么才是一张出色的录音？今年的入围名单里，有伊莎贝尔·福斯特（Isabelle Faust）的利盖蒂、有让·隆多，以及克里斯蒂安·特兹拉夫（Christian Tetzlaff）等风格各异的艺术家和作品。究竟是什么让一款优秀的录音脱颖而出，令人难忘？ MC：我想首先应该说，能够入围留声机大奖最终候选名单，本身就说明这些录音已经有很高的水准。但这也恰恰让问题变得复杂，因为我们面对的并不是同一类型的作品，很难直接把利盖蒂与风格截然不同的音乐放在一起比较。 如果从更广泛的角度来看，我认为，一张出色的录音首先要能在音乐响起的那一刻就抓住你，让你愿意跟随它进入一段旅程。它必须有鲜活的生命力。我一直很在意，自己听到的是否是一位艺术家经过深入思考后的表达，甚至是他们用一生去体会和探索的音乐。通过这次演奏，我能否听到某种真正属于他们自己的、非常个人化的表达？他们不只是把谱面上的音符演奏出来。音符只是表达的一部分，演奏者还借此传递自己的灵魂，也试图触及作曲家的内在世界。一场演奏能否真正打动我，这是很重要的。当然，如今的演奏家大多技艺精湛，音准与技巧只是基本要求。在此之外，我会格外留意声音本身是否有值得探索的深度，是否呈现出独特的音色与丰富的层次感。 今年入围的另一位艺术家肖恩·志边（Sean Shibe）就是一个很好的例子。他作为吉他演奏家，能够从乐器中挖掘出如此惊人的音色变化，让我想起朱利安·布里姆（Julian Bream）曾经做到的事情。有时候，聆听这样的演奏，真的会让人屏息，感受到一种难以言喻的美。 录音的经济模式与艺术自主 LC：今年的入围名单中有一些规模宏大、投入很高的录音项目。我们之前谈到过路易·库普兰的全集录音，以及马尔蒂努等作曲家的项目。完成这样体量大、制作要求又高的录音，往往需要相当可观的投入。在今天的唱片业环境下，你认为唱片公司为什么仍愿意投入资源去做这样的项目？而成本和市场压力，会不会限制一些作品被录制的机会？ MC：这是一个很大的话题，涉及录音产业的经济模式如何变化，以及未来还会发生怎样的变化。你说得没错，经济状况确实会影响曲目的选择。不过，这种影响未必总是我们通常所理解的那种负面影响，也不完全是唱片公司面临的压力所造成。 大约二十年前，唱片公司制作一张唱片，通常会预期它能在一段时间内收回成本，甚至带来利润，再将收益投入下一张唱片。今天，这种模式仍然存在，但适用的情况已经少了很多。整个录音产业的经济结构都发生了变化。如今，很多录音项目由艺术家自己筹集资金，或者得到支持他们的机构和个人资助。但这并不意味着我们因此只能听到一些所谓的“纯粹为满足个人表达欲而做的项目”（vanity projects）。真正出色、有价值的作品，依然能够脱颖而出，吸引听众，也值得人们关注。 唱片公司有时仍然会支持这类录音项目，也愿意承担一定的风险。当然，一些大型唱片公司可能更倾向于录制经典曲目，因为这些作品有更广泛的听众基础。但如果看看我刚才提到的一些规模较小、定位更专门的唱片公司，就会发现，它们推出的项目往往更为集中，也更具小众特色。 这些年来，我看到不少原本与大型唱片公司合作的音乐家，后来转而为独立厂牌录音。我觉得，如今“大厂牌”和“独立厂牌”之间的界限，已经不像过去那么分明了。这在某种程度上也反映出，艺术家希望在录音上拥有更多自主权，包括自己决定要录制什么作品。 如果录音费用由艺术家自己承担，或者他们并不指望一张唱片一定要盈利，那么在艺术表达上就有了更大的自由，可以尝试一些更专门、更小众的曲目。我想，这也是为什么今天我们依然能听到许多有趣、充满探索精神的录音项目，甚至有机会接触到一些此前完全不了解的音乐。 从经济角度来看，如今流入艺术家和整个行业的资金，可能没有过去那么多，但制作唱片的出发点也在发生变化。一张唱片未必只是为了商业回报，也可以首先是一种艺术表达。 当然，像广播交响乐团这样的机构，情况又有所不同。比如，BBC交响乐团录制巴切维茨的作品，背后有广播机构的支持，其资金来源与商业唱片公司并不相同。广播乐团的录音项目，往往能够通过另一种方式获得资助。 独奏录音的成本结构又不一样。此外，还有一些以叙事为线索的专辑。艺术家希望制作一张能够与更广泛的听众产生共鸣的唱片，让专辑本身成为一件鲜明而独特的艺术作品。 过去，艺术家或唱片公司可能从唱片销售中获得相当可观的收入。如今，录音更可能成为艺术家职业生涯某个重要阶段的记录，成为他们创作历程和艺术遗产的一部分。当然，他们也希望这些录音能够吸引更多人走进音乐厅，亲自聆听他们的演出。 不过，我是在一个小镇长大的，那里并没有太多现场音乐演出。对我来说，唱片曾经发挥了非常重要的作用，让我有机会聆听、接触和探索古典音乐。因此，录音一直不只是现场演出的替代品，它本身就是我们认识和理解音乐的一种重要途径。 任奫灿现象 LC：我们来谈谈年轻音乐家吧。首先，一个绕不开的名字是任奫灿（Yunchan Lim）。今年，他又入围了钢琴类录音奖项，我们上次在颁奖礼上见到他还是两年前，当时，他获得了年度青年艺术家奖和钢琴类奖项；如今，他已经成为古典音乐界备受瞩目的名字。听他的演奏时，你觉得他身上最鲜明的音乐家特质是什么？人们又为什么对他抱有如此高的期待？ MC：他是一位非常出色的钢琴家。他的演奏有一种特别的投入感，你能听出他享受自己正在演奏的音乐，也能感受到他全身心地融入了作品，他的演奏有鲜明的个人特色。我并不是说每位音乐家都必须形成一种截然不同的演奏风格，而是说，听他演奏时，你会觉得这些音乐与他本人有着非常深刻的联系。 自从赢得范·克莱本国际钢琴比赛后，他显然获得了大量关注，也逐渐形成了一股期待他演奏、关注他未来发展的热潮。我想，这样的关注，自然也伴随着外界的期待。但从古典音乐的角度来看，这是一件非常美好的事。在任何一个时代，真正能够激发人们想象力的音乐家都屈指可数，而他如今正是其中之一，这非常了不起。他是一位优秀的演奏家，任何因为他而走进音乐厅、开始聆听他演奏的人，都有机会接触到非凡的艺术。 我们曾把他选为杂志封面人物。为了满足韩国市场的需求，《留声机》甚至不得不两次加印。这并不是每一位登上封面的音乐家都能带来的反响。他确实有一种明星光环，当然，他也拥有非凡的演奏技巧和艺术感知力。 LC：他给人的感觉总是迫不及待地想要投入演奏，演奏一结束便离开舞台，并不留恋掌声和聚光灯。 MC：是的。每位艺术家都有自己的方式，当然应该忠于自己，以自己认同的方式呈现音乐和自己。谁知道呢？任奫灿还很年轻，未来也可能发生变化。但无论如何，我们能拥有这样一位出色的音乐家，实在是一种幸运。 LC：我上一次听他演奏时，感觉他在演绎斯克里亚宾的作品时，传达出了一种此前从未在他身上听到过的情绪。仿佛他真正经历了作品中的痛苦，或是某种人生历程。 MC：是的，这确实很有意思。音乐家演奏的作品，往往凝结着作曲家的人生经历和情感历程，而年轻的演奏家未必已经亲身经历过这些。 人生本来就很复杂。我们当然不会希望年轻人经历痛苦，但随着成长，他们终究会逐渐理解人生的复杂性。当一位像任奫灿这样的音乐家，能够拿起一部作品，将其中蕴含的情感与人生经验传递出来，这确实是一件了不起的事。 《留声机》主编年度聆听私藏 LC：那么，在今年听过这么多录音之后，有没有哪一张让你感到惊喜、改变了你原来的看法，或者一直留在你的记忆里？ MC：我觉得，直接说一张录音如何胜过另一张，的确会有点奇怪，不过，如果谈谈今年让我印象深刻的几张唱片，我很享受逐渐认识巴切维茨的音乐。她的作品其实已经写成几十年了，但如今我们仿佛正在重新发现它们。这些音乐非常成熟，而当萨卡里·奥拉莫这样一位指挥家如此坚定地相信，它们理应成为当代经典曲库的一部分，并把这种信念传递出来时，我觉得那是一种难得的聆听体验。 我也很喜欢休·沃特金斯（Hugh Watkins）为哈雷管弦乐团（Hallé Orchestra）创作的音乐，这又是一个很不一样的例子，仿佛是作曲家为一支自己非常熟悉的乐团描绘的一幅肖像。听到这样一位作曲家的声音很有意思：他吸收了自己所学到的一切，同时又把这些经验转化成鲜明的个人风格。 我还很享受聆听约翰·路德维希·巴赫的作品，这又是我此前并不熟悉的音乐，而且我觉得，不了解它并不奇怪；重要的是尝试把它放回历史语境中，理解它当时会如何被聆听，又会在什么场合使用。再次听到今天这些非凡的音乐家，以如此坚定的信念和投入，把这些作品介绍给我们，是很珍贵的体验。 我们之前已谈到过肖恩·志边，但我想再提一下他的录音《晚祷》（Vesper）。其中他演奏托马斯·阿德斯的《被遗忘的舞蹈》（Forgotten Dances）真是相当精彩，作品将乐器的表现力推向极限，但并不是为了制造一种不必要的身体感或冲击力，而是真正从中展现出一种美。我尤其喜欢听到这种表达。 还有埃本四重奏（Quatuor Ébène）与贝尔西亚四重奏（Belcea Quartet），这两支弦乐四重奏合作演奏《埃内斯库与门德尔松：八重奏》（Enescu & Mendelssohn: Octets），非常了不起。拉斐尔·皮雄（Raphaël Pichon）与他创立的皮格马利翁合唱及管弦乐团（Ensemble Pygmalion）录制的巴赫《约翰受难曲》同样值得一提，他们去年凭《b小调弥撒》获奖，这支乐团和整个团队的演奏实在非凡。 我也很喜欢克里斯·蒂尔演奏的巴赫《奏鸣曲与组曲》第二辑，录音中有非常鲜明、深刻的个人气质。在开放的空间里，用这样一种乐器演奏巴赫，音乐既有脆弱的一面，又有一种持久的力量，这一点尤其打动我。他本身也是一位涉猎不同音乐类型的音乐家，而你能听出来，他把自己在其他音乐领域的经验带进了对巴赫的诠释中。 LC：比如爵士乐。 MC：比如爵士乐，他并没有预设巴赫应该以某种特定方式去演奏，而是带着开放的心态去面对作品，思考它究竟是什么，又对自己意味着什么，再由此形成自己的演绎。 另外，莫扎特专家乐团（The Mozartists）与安·哈伦伯格合作演绎的格鲁克作品也很美妙，仿佛通过这些音乐，为作曲家勾勒出一幅肖像。确实有太多值得聆听的录音。我一直想强调，评奖并不是“只有赢家才值得关注”的竞赛，能够入围的每一张唱片，都值得我们去聆听、去关注。不同的作品会吸引不同的人，重要的是找到那些真正打动自己的音乐。 Writer Lucy Cheung

The much-anticipated 2026 Gramophone Awards ceremony will take place in London on 7 October. Last week, we sat down for an in-depth conversation with Martin Cullingford, Publisher and Editor of Gramophone. For him, the awards are not simply a chance to celebrate the outstanding recordings of the past year, but also an opportunity to reconsider the boundaries of the classical music canon. This interview will be published in two parts, before and after the ceremony. By Lucy Cheung 04 October 2026 Martin Cullingford in Conversation (Part I): Before the 2026 Gramophone Awards LC=Lucy Cheung MC=Martin Cullingford 阅读中文版 Trends in This Year’s Shortlist LC: From Martinů and Bacewicz to Schubert, Shostakovich and Saariaho, this year’s shortlist is strikingly diverse in both repertoire and recording. What stands out to you most? Is there a thread running through these very different albums? MC: I think the most striking thing is the sheer diversity of the repertoire and recordings. That’s not unique to this year, of course, but it’s particularly noticeable in this shortlist. We’re now looking at the final three in each category. Take the concerto category: we have Thomas Adès, Elgar, Ligeti and Shostakovich. There’s music from the twentieth century, as well as much more recent work. Adès, in particular, could be considered a twenty-first-century composer. Traditionally, this category might have been dominated by Tchaikovsky or Beethoven, but this year the repertoire is much more modern. That really caught my attention. The early music category has always explored earlier repertoire. What’s interesting this year is that less familiar music is also coming to the fore in other categories. In the choral category, for example, there’s a project exploring a relatively neglected composer, alongside music by Johann Ludwig Bach, a distant cousin of J. S. Bach. We have these works today largely because Johann Sebastian admired them, preserved them and performed them himself. Of course, there’s also a familiar masterpiece such as the St John Passion. That combination of the expected and the unexpected is one of the exciting things about this year’s list. In the instrumental category, we have Bach’s sonatas and partitas played on the mandolin by Chris Thile. It’s a beautiful album, recorded outdoors in a playground, with the ambient sounds left in. There’s also Louis Couperin. François Couperin is much better known, but this is an extraordinary ten-album project devoted to Louis’s music. And then there’s the guitar music of Villa-Lobos, whose work I adore, so I’m delighted to see that recording shortlisted. I think this reflects a wider trend. Artists and record labels recognise that the catalogue is already enormous, and that listeners are keen to discover less familiar music. They’re willing to take risks with repertoire, and we’re the ones who benefit. LC: You’ve mentioned Johann Ludwig Bach’s cantatas, Jean Rondeau’s complete Louis Couperin project, and Ann Hallenberg’s Gluck arias. What makes music written centuries ago sound fresh today? Is that vitality in the music itself, or does it depend on the performer’s interpretation? MC: The music itself is obviously fundamental. The fact that it has survived for centuries and continues to inspire people tells us something about its power. But ultimately, I think it comes down to the performers. If a work, or a score, can’t be reinterpreted by each generation in a way that speaks to its own time, it risks becoming a museum piece. Clearly, that hasn’t happened to this music. Take Louis Couperin. Jean Rondeau is a fascinating young artist, and he’s asking what this music means to him in the twenty-first century. He approaches it as an artist living today. If you listen to Bach recordings from the 1950s, they sound very different from those made now. Those performances spoke to their own audiences. They reflected the tastes of the time, the way people understood the music, and how it moved and inspired them. The period-instrument movement brought a very different focus in the 1990s, with performers paying close attention to historical practices. I think we’ve moved beyond that particular phase. Younger musicians now draw on a range of traditions and influences, and use them to develop a voice of their own. There’s contemporary music on this year’s shortlist, of course, which is the most direct expression of music being made today. But a musician like Chris Thile, playing Bach, also shows how an artist today can engage with the world, bring their own ideas to the music and respond to it emotionally. That, to me, is where music has its real power. Rediscovering Overlooked Composers LC: Thinking about the diversity of this year’s shortlist, I’m also struck by recordings of Bacewicz and the Pavel Haas Quartet, which have brought relatively unfamiliar repertoire into the spotlight. Why do you think we’re seeing this renewed interest? Can an outstanding recording really change a composer’s place in the canon? MC: It’s an interesting question. One reason, I think, is that we already have an extraordinary number of recordings of Beethoven and Mozart. We absolutely want people to keep playing those great works, but if you’re going to record them again, you need a very clear reason why your interpretation should add something to what’s already there. With Bacewicz, it’s rather different. Sakari Oramo has spoken about how he himself discovered her music only around ten years ago. She was a relatively little-known composer, but she’s now receiving much more attention. The Silesian Quartet has recorded her chamber music, while Oramo has been championing her symphonic works. For the orchestral players, too, this is a process of discovery. There’s something very exciting about that. Martinů is perhaps better known, but the Pavel Haas Quartet’s recording makes a strong case for his music as part of the core string quartet repertoire. Mahler is another example. In the first half of the twentieth century, and even around the middle of the century, his music was far less familiar than it is today. It took champions such as Bruno Walter, and later Bernstein, to change that and bring his work to a much wider audience. These shifts have always happened, and they’ll continue to happen. That’s one of the things I find exciting about music. Audiences are often very happy to discover something they’ve never heard before, provided the performers believe in it and communicate that commitment. People respond to that. What Makes an Exceptional Recording? LC: Let me ask a basic question: what makes an exceptional recording? This year’s shortlist includes artists and works as different as Isabelle Faust, Ligeti, Jean Rondeau and the Pavel Haas Quartet. What makes a recording stand out and stay with us? MC: First, I should say that reaching the final shortlist of the Gramophone Awards means that these recordings are already of an exceptionally high standard. But that also makes the question difficult, because we’re not comparing like with like. It’s hard to put Ligeti alongside something completely different. More generally, I think a great recording has to grip you from the very first moment and take you on a journey. It needs to feel vividly alive. I’m always interested in whether I’m hearing an artist who has thought deeply about the music, perhaps over a lifetime. Is there something genuinely personal in the performance? They’re not simply playing the notes on the page. Through those notes, they’re expressing something of themselves, while also reaching towards the composer’s inner world. Ultimately, does the performance move me? Of course, today’s musicians are generally superb technicians. Virtuosity and intonation are almost a given. What matters to me beyond that is the sound itself: its depth, its colour, and the range of expression an artist can draw from it. Sean Shibe is a good example. The colours he draws from the guitar are extraordinary, and they remind me of what Julian Bream was able to do. There are moments when listening to a performance like that is simply breathtaking. The Economics of Recording and Artistic Freedom LC: This year’s shortlist includes some ambitious projects involving considerable time and investment, from the Louis Couperin recordings to projects devoted to composers such as Martinů. Why are artists and labels still willing to take on this kind of work? And do financial pressures limit the repertoire that gets recorded? MC: It’s a big subject, because the economics of recording have changed enormously, and will continue to change. You’re right that money affects repertoire, although not always in the negative way we might expect. Twenty years ago, a record company might make an album expecting to recoup the costs and perhaps make a profit, which could then fund the next recording. That model still exists, but in far fewer cases. The economics of the industry are very different now. Many recordings are funded by the artists themselves, or by individuals and organisations who support them. But that doesn’t mean we’re left with nothing but vanity projects. The really exceptional projects still emerge, find an audience and deserve to be heard. Record labels do still support ambitious recordings and take risks. Major labels may be more inclined to focus on core repertoire, which has a broader audience. Smaller, more specialised labels, meanwhile, often have a more focused and individual approach. I’ve seen many musicians who once recorded for major labels move to independent ones. The distinction between major and independent labels isn’t as clear-cut as it used to be. In part, this reflects artists’ desire to have more control over what they record. If artists fund a project themselves, or don’t expect it to make a profit, they may have greater freedom to explore more specialised repertoire. That’s one reason we continue to hear such interesting and adventurous recordings, including music we might never have encountered otherwise. There may be less money flowing into the industry than there once was, but the purpose of making a recording is changing, too. It doesn’t have to be driven purely by commercial return. It can be an artistic statement in its own right. Broadcast orchestras are in a different position. A recording by the BBC Symphony Orchestra, for example, may benefit from the support of a broadcasting organisation, rather than relying on the commercial model of a record label. Solo recordings have a different cost structure again. And some albums are conceived around a particular idea or narrative, with the artist hoping to create something distinctive that will connect with a wider audience. In the past, artists and record companies could make considerable money from recordings. Today, a recording may be more about marking a particular stage in an artist’s career, and becoming part of their artistic legacy. Of course, they also hope it will encourage people to come and hear them perform live. I grew up in a small town where there wasn’t much live music. Recordings were incredibly important to me. They gave me the chance to hear and explore classical music. So recordings have never simply been a substitute for live performance; they’re an essential way of discovering and understanding music. The Yunchan Lim Phenomenon LC: Let’s talk about young musicians. One name we can’t overlook is Yunchan Lim, who is once again shortlisted in the piano category. We last saw him at the awards two years ago, when he won Young Artist of the Year and the piano award. Since then, he has become one of the most talked-about names in classical music. What do you think is distinctive about him as a musician? And why are expectations around him so high? MC: He’s a wonderful pianist. There’s a real sense of enjoyment and personal investment in his playing. He seems completely immersed in the music, and there’s a strong sense of individuality in what he does. I don’t mean that every musician has to sound radically different from everyone else, but with him you feel a very deep connection between the music and the person playing it. Since winning the Cliburn Competition, he’s attracted enormous attention, and there’s been a growing sense of anticipation about what he’ll do next. That inevitably brings expectations, and perhaps a certain responsibility. But it’s also a wonderful thing for classical music. At any given time, there are only a handful of musicians who really capture the imagination, and he’s one of them. Anyone who is drawn to hear him will encounter extraordinary artistry. We put him on the cover of Gramophone, and had to reprint the magazine twice to meet demand in Korea. That doesn’t happen with every artist who appears on our cover. He has a certain stardust, as well as extraordinary technique and musical insight. LC: He always seems so eager to get on with the playing, and then to leave the stage as soon as he’s finished, without lingering over the applause or the spotlight. MC: Yes. Every artist is different, and they should be true to themselves and present the music in a way that feels right to them. Who knows? Yunchan is still very young, and he may change as he gets older. But we’re very fortunate to have a musician of his quality. LC: The last time I heard him, I felt that his performance of Scriabin conveyed an emotion I hadn’t heard from him before. It was almost as though he had experienced the pain or life journey contained in the music. MC: Yes, that’s fascinating. The music performers play often reflects the life experiences and emotional journeys of the composers who wrote it, and young musicians may not yet have experienced those things themselves. Life is complicated, of course. We wouldn’t wish painful experiences on young people, but as they grow older, they’ll come to understand more of that complexity. When a musician like Yunchan can take a piece and communicate the emotions and life experience within it, that’s a remarkable achievement. Martin Cullingford’s Listening Highlights LC: After listening to so many recordings this year, was there one that surprised you, changed your mind, or has stayed with you? MC: I think it would be strange to say that one recording is better than another, particularly when they’re so different. But there are certainly recordings that have stayed with me. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know Bacewicz’s music. These are accomplished works that were written decades ago, and yet it feels as though we’re discovering them afresh. To hear a conductor such as Sakari Oramo make such a strong case for this music as part of the modern canon is a real pleasure. I also enjoyed Hugh Watkins’s music for the Hallé. It’s almost as though the composer is painting a portrait of an orchestra he knows very well. It’s fascinating to hear a distinctive musical voice that draws on a range of influences but turns them into something personal. I’ve also enjoyed discovering Johann Ludwig Bach. It’s music I didn’t know, and it’s interesting to think about it in its historical context: how it might have been heard at the time, and what purpose it served. To hear musicians today introduce this repertoire with such conviction and commitment is a real privilege. We’ve already talked about Sean Shibe, but I’d also mention his recording of Thomas Adès’s Forgotten Dances. It’s a wonderful performance. The music pushes the instrument to its limits, but not simply for the sake of physical impact. There’s real beauty in what he brings out of it. The recording of Enescu and Mendelssohn octets, bringing together the Quatuor Ébène and the Belcea Quartet, is extraordinary, too. And Raphaël Pichon and Ensemble Pygmalion’s St John Passion is another recording I greatly admire. They won last year for their Mass in B minor, and they’re an exceptional group of musicians. I also love Chris Thile’s second volume of Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas. There’s a strong, deeply personal quality to the recording. Hearing Bach played on the mandolin in an open-air setting gives the music a sense of fragility, but also of permanence. That’s something I find very moving. Thile works across different musical genres, and you can hear how those experiences inform his approach to Bach. LC: Jazz, for example. MC: Yes, jazz. He doesn’t approach Bach with a fixed idea of how the music should be played. He comes to it with an open mind, asking what the music is and what it means to him, and then develops his own interpretation from there. The Mozartists’ recording of Gluck with Ann Hallenberg is another beautiful project. It feels almost like a portrait of the composer, created through the music. There are so many recordings worth hearing. I always want to emphasise that the awards aren’t a winner-takes-all competition. Every recording that makes the shortlist deserves attention. Different works will speak to different listeners. What matters is finding the music that really moves you. Writer Lucy Cheung

爵士钢琴家杰森·莫兰在威格莫尔，“室内乐圣殿”中的粗粝与噪音。 By Lucy Cheung 01 October 2026 When 2026年9月30日 Where 伦敦威格莫尔音乐厅（Wigmore Hall） Who 美国爵士钢琴家杰森·莫兰（Jason Moran） What 没有设节目单，莫兰向爵士前辈艾灵顿公爵（Duke Ellington）致敬的即兴独奏会。曲目包括《黑棕幻想曲》（Black and Tan Fantasy）、《我爱得很深，情况却不妙》（I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good）、《优雅的女士》（Sophisticated Lady）、《忧郁》（Melancholia）、《吉普车布鲁斯》（Jeep's Blues）、《一瓣玫瑰》（Single Petal of a Rose），以及莫兰自己的原创曲目。 Why 莫兰今年初发行了专辑《杰森·莫兰弹艾灵顿公爵》（Jason Moran plays Duke Ellington），伦敦是他本月巡演首站。这场音乐会也是威格莫尔的秋季国际钢琴音乐节（Autumn International Piano Festival）演出之一。 伦敦威格莫尔厅 摄影：张璐诗 记一笔 还能穿短袖的秋夜，我们看到了一位身着牛仔装的先锋爵士乐人，为“室内乐圣殿”带入了一抹来自纽约哈林区的粗粝与实验噪音。 相比平常，威格莫尔音乐厅里的观众似乎也随着音乐风格换了一批面孔。杰森·莫兰以一架钢琴，呈现了部分来自艾灵顿公爵大乐队的丰富层次，但我们听到一些原本典雅的作品，被挖掘出了重型质感。在《黑棕幻想曲》忽然坠入的持续13分钟低音区轰鸣中，忽然令人有此意识，继而大梦初醒：是哦，二十五年前莫兰在专辑《Black Star》中，已展现出放到今日也不旧的先锋音乐语言。有古典钢琴训练根基的莫兰，从早年听父亲的大量前卫爵士唱片成长，到很早之前便持续与视觉艺术家合作、受博物馆委约创作，以及为电影和纪录片创作，跨领域的语言探索便理所当然。 这种探索应该与他在纽约哈林的生活分不开。莫兰1993年从休斯敦搬到纽约，后来在哈林区生活了近三十年，他说：“爵士乐前辈法茨·沃勒（Fats Waller）的骨灰曾飘散在哈林的风中”，塞隆尼斯·蒙克（Thelonious Monk）也曾活跃于地标性的Minton’s Playhouse，参与了早期比波普爵士乐的发展，哈林对于爵士钢琴演奏者意义非凡。作为爵士钢琴史上极具个人风格的音乐家，蒙克甚至会把钢琴当成打击乐器；莫兰还谈到了他与艾灵顿公爵之间的音乐联系，他认为，蒙克是从艾灵顿那里承袭的钢琴触键与演奏中的“攻击性”。 而我们在现场看到今天的莫兰，右手打开手掌、斜着劈下琴键，显然与此一脉相承。《黑棕幻想曲》这首艾灵顿公爵在1927年与小号手巴布·迈利（Bubber Miley）共同写下的早期名作，本就交织着布鲁斯的怅惘和旧时舞厅的迷离节奏，尾奏中还出人意料地闪过肖邦的“葬礼进行曲”。莫兰的即兴中，似乎将尾段的抑郁无限放大，13分钟的低音震荡中，原有的旋律线条彻底消解，逐渐演变为噪音的艺术之探索。层层堆积的声响幽暗至近乎失序，轰鸣在威格莫尔音乐厅精妙的穹顶之下。 杰森·莫兰 Photo: Justyn Momocong 在作品之间，莫兰穿插讲述艾灵顿公爵与比利·斯特雷霍恩（Billy Strayhorn）的关系。他解释自己必须提起比利：因为两人之间长期而密切的创作合作，最终往往只有艾灵顿一个人站在镜头前，以至于这段传奇至今鲜为人知。莫兰向我们描述摄影师留下的镜头：艾灵顿悠闲地躺在沙发上，或端坐钢琴旁，而斯特雷霍恩拿着乐谱走来，继续与他商讨创作。莫兰说：“人们习惯了凝视艾灵顿松弛、从容的宏大形象，却容易忽略在光影边缘、在长凳另一端的斯特雷霍恩。” 谈到比利·斯特雷霍恩离世后的影像，莫兰提起艾灵顿公爵独自坐在教堂长椅上的画面：“他似乎不知道该如何去感受，也不知道如何从人生的一个阶段走向下一个阶段。”莫兰说，自己生命中缺少一个像比利那样的人。看他在台上，双耳涨得通红，这刻感觉莫兰有所投射：对于不断向前探索新方向的人，或许都会有对“下一步”的迷惘。 莫兰还用“徒步”比喻音乐探索：走一段漫长的路，需要准备雨具、食物和水，累了便停下来休息，再继续前行；音乐也是在“穿越生活、寻找方向”。返场时，他谈到哈林区的音乐家、街道和文化历史：“人与人之间的距离很近，日常生活的种种声响与情绪交错，爱与危险并存。”他也说起自家楼下有三家理发店，其中一家由多米尼加人经营，店里经常播放很精彩的音乐，然后演奏了以此为灵感创作的《理发店》。 演奏中，他离开琴凳，站着俯身在钢琴上，一只手反复敲击最低音区，另一只手伸进琴身，直接拨动琴弦。低音持续震荡，他的声音探索，在离场后的年轻人讨论中继续。 Writer Lucy Cheung