“A musician of probing intellect and open-hearted vision” is how The New York Times has described pianist Conrad Tao. On December 6, that vision centers on Rachmaninoff, as Tao explores the romantic side of the iconic composer in his concert Rachmaninoff Songbook.
Tao talked with us ahead of the performance – about the classic film that sparked his concept, Rachmaninoff’s influence on Sondheim and others, his place in the American Songbook, and more. Read the interview here and join us in December to experience this revelatory program from one of today’s most brilliant artists.
You’ve been performing at The 92nd Street Y since 2019, in mind-opening programs juxtaposing core repertoire and new music, dynamic interdisciplinary events, and more. What draws you now to Rachmaninoff?
This concert is my contribution to the year’s events celebrating Rachmaninoff’s 150th birthday. When thinking about a program for the occasion, I happened to have just seen Brief Encounter, the David Lean film from a Noel Coward screenplay, for the first time. It’s a wonderful movie, and it uses – as the only music throughout – Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto. And it uses the piece in a really lovely and interesting way. The music acts as underscoring, but also functions as something of a formal element, signaling to the viewer that we are in the protagonist’s internal emotional world. I found it very inspiring, and I was greatly moved by the film. It all made me want to explore Rachmaninoff’s romantic side. This program grew out of that emotional world and the wonderful yearning, sentimental quality that Rachmaninoff has, which is such a huge part of why we love his music – and a huge part of why it endures.
My aim throughout the program is to draw lines that connect Rachmaninoff to popular composers who came before him, like Irving Berlin, to American Songbook stalwarts who came after, like Harold Arlen, and to pianist-composers who also came after, like Billy Strayhorn and Stephen Sondheim. I do that through the strategic juxtaposition of works and an approach that hopscotches through time.
In exploring Rachmaninoff’s influence on other composers and musicians, you also look at the forces that influenced him. What are some elements that add to our understanding of his music?
Rachmaninoff’s gift for melody clearly comes from his background – the music he was writing before he came to the US was already so incredibly tuneful. What I’m doing on the program is highlighting pieces early in his oeuvre that show he’s got what it takes to be a pop composer – what it takes to be a songwriter. What I like about the title Rachmaninoff Songbook is that it immediately points us to the American Songbook, and that is one of the basic premises of the program.
I should add that much of my perspective is speculation, but there are some things we know. We know, for example, that Rachmaninoff went to jazz clubs when he arrived in New York in 1918. And we know that he saw Art Tatum play and became a huge admirer of him. In the Paganini Rhapsody’s 15th Variation (some of the first music I remember improvising on) I believe we hear Tatum’s influence on his writing. So, it’s extremely important to me that Tatum’s work is represented on the program.
Rachmaninoff is one of the great melodists in all of music. One of his themes is even the basis for a Celine Dion megahit. What is it about Rachmaninoff’s gift for melody that sets it apart?
Absolutely, and another impetus for this program was the 1975 Eric Carmen song “All By Myself,” famously recorded in the late ‘90s by Celine Dion. Carmen was a Rachmaninoff fan, for sure. And even before then, there was “Full Moon and Empty Arms.” It, too, is based on a theme from Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, with lyrics by Buddy Kaye, and recorded by artists from Frank Sinatra to Bob Dylan. So, there is already a literal legacy of Rachmaninoff being pillaged for pop tunes!
In terms of what sets his melodic gift apart, I think there really is something about how Rachmaninoff travels through his chords that was new for the time. I would describe it as: he passes through his chord progressions based on the sound of the chords themselves. He uses all of these lush internal voices as he harmonizes the beautiful melodies, yielding some pretty surprising twists and turns. But because the music sounds so lush on a purely sonic level, we don’t necessarily hear it as surprising, we just hear it as gorgeous.
In some ways I think it’s unique to Rachmaninoff being a pianist. Despite its earned reputation for being challenging music to play, it actually sits beautifully in the hands. I can almost imagine Rachmaninoff just sliding over the keyboard to find beautiful chords. In that respect he actually does – though probably not intentionally – predate a lot of where popular music songwriting ends up going. And that’s why the program includes people like Billy Strayhorn and Stephen Sondheim, who emerged after Rachmaninoff passed away, but whose approaches to harmony and songwriting show some continuity with what Rachmaninoff was beginning to do.
Following your December 2021 92NY solo recital, The New York Times wrote, “in honor of another composer Tao reveres, he played his own arrangement of ‘Sunday’ from Sunday in the Park with George. Of all the tributes Sondheim has garnered since his death, none has moved me more.” What is it about Sondheim’s music that speaks most deeply to you, and please talk about the selection you’ll be playing in the concert.
I grew up with Sondheim. First it was Into the Woods in a grade school production, then it was Company, then Merrily – I was lucky enough to be exposed at different times. Also, I’ve lived in New York since I was nine years old and there is something deeply, neurotically, New York about all of his work, so there might be that connection! But as a composer, I feel that my way into him as a slightly older person was when I first engaged with Company. I was bowled over by the musical invention, and how it was both really clear and mysterious at the same time. Sondheim was amazing at using composition to illustrate drama. And that doesn’t even begin to speak to the lyrics, because once I started getting into those, my admiration just skyrocketed. Sondheim had this remarkable ability to render thought as emotion. I really do think of his work as the apotheosis of what can be accomplished in the musical theater form.
Thinking about Sondheim in the context of Rachmaninoff, to me both composers really understand the value of the inner voices of the music. Both composers are great melodists, but both also really understand the importance of the patterns underneath the music, and how significant those are for generating a kind of meaning or tension.
I’ll be playing “In Buddy’s Eyes” from Follies. Across this whole program I’ve chosen music that has a bittersweet emotional tone to it, and I chose this one for its emotional complexity. I love “In Buddy’s Eyes” – it’s classic Sondheim, where the surface of the song is not what is actually being communicated. It’s sung by a character who is in denial about her complex feelings – a character trying to tell herself that she’s happy – and the sweetness of the melody is undercut by an unease. Musically, I chose the song for a single particularly beautiful chord that emerges on the last page. It’s such a pungent chord, and I feel like that kind of power is emblematic of Rachmaninoff’s skill set as well.
Finally, Rachmaninoff’s music was once viewed by some classical purists as too sentimental to be considered serious. Today, the genius of his craftsmanship is celebrated alongside the sweeping beauty of his music. Can you share your thoughts on that?
I think what I’m highlighting with Rachmaninoff Songbook aligns with that point. On the one hand, one of the basic premises of my program is one of the most widely understood of Rachmaninoff’s qualities, which is that his melodies are amazing and catchy and memorable. But by linking his music to the American Songbook and to American jazz, and by exploring what happens a couple of decades later, I’m also trying to highlight the chromatic sensibility in his harmonies.
It’s possible that there’s just greater appreciation now for the craft that went into Rachmaninoff’s writing. I suspect that one reason why it has sometimes been written off or seen as “not serious” is that his music sounds so effortlessly beautiful. I think there’s an appreciation now of just how much complexity is involved in that beauty, and of how chords that might at one point have registered merely as lush, or bordering on schmaltzy, are actually very rich complex sonorities. My hope is that this program highlights how much Rachmaninoff shaped the sounds we hear still.
Conrad Tao: Rachmaninoff Songbook – Wednesday, December 6 at 7:30 PM in Kaufmann Concert Hall. Tickets and additional details here.