Season 5 Episode 13: Composing with Humanity – Nimrod Borenstein on Music, Expression & Legacy

Welcome back to another episode of The Piano Pod with Yukimi Song with Yukimi Song with Nimrod Borenstein. Today, I am thrilled to welcome Nimrod Borenstein, a renowned British-French composer and acclaimed conductor whose works have captivated audiences worldwide. From monumental orchestral pieces to evocative solo piano compositions, Nimrod's music showcases a distinctive voice that pushes the boundaries of classical music while remaining deeply expressive and accessible. Born in Tel Aviv and raised in Paris, Nimrod was a child prodigy violinist before shifting his focus to composition. He studied at the Royal Academy of Music in London, where he developed his signature style, blending intricate counterpoint, rich harmonic textures, and a deeply lyrical sensibility. His music is widely performed and recorded by top orchestras and artists, with over 150 compositions spanning solo, chamber, and large-scale symphonic works. His career has been marked by prestigious collaborations, most notably with legendary pianist and conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy, who championed Nimrod's work and conducted his music with major orchestras worldwide. His piano compositions, such as "Shirim" and his series of "Études for Piano," showcase his deep understanding of the instrument and his ability to balance virtuosity with emotional depth. In this episode, we will explore Nimrod's journey from child prodigy to an internationally celebrated composer, the creative process behind his celebrated piano works including "Sharim" and his "Études," his collaboration with the legendary Vladimir Ashkenazi, and the challenges and triumphs of composing for piano, orchestra, and beyond. Before we begin, I want to share something new with you. Every Friday, I publish a blog on Substack where I go beyond the podcast, offering personal reflections, behind-the-scenes insights, and thoughts on music, creativity, and the evolving role of classical musicians. If you enjoy these conversations, I invite you to subscribe at thepianopod.substack.com pianopod.com for exclusive content and deeper discussions. We can't wait for you to hear Nimrod's incredible story, his dedication to contemporary music, and his innovative work that redefines the boundaries of classical compositions. Now, without further ado, let's welcome Nimrod Bornstein to The Piano Pod. Please enjoy the show. You are listening to The Piano Pod with Yukimi Song, where we talk to the brightest minds in the industry about how they are bringing the piano into the future and thriving in a complex, ever-evolving world. Welcome to The Piano Pod with Nimrod. It's such an honor and pleasure to have you on the show today. Thank you so much for being here.

My pleasure.

So where are you actually joining from today?

At the moment I'm in London. London? Because now I'm staying for a little while in London Not too much trouble.

Okay. Are you currently based in London?

Yes, I've been living in London for over 30 years.

Oh, wow. Okay. I understand that you grew up in France, right?

Yeah. From age 3 to age 17, 18, I was in France.

Mm-hmm. Before that, you were originally from Israel.

Yeah, I was born in Tel Aviv, but I was there only up to age 3. And then I grew up in France, and now the majority of my life I've been in London. I've been over 30 years.

Oh my goodness. Wow. That's quite an international, beautiful life that you have. So anyway, I've been really enjoying listening to your recordings over the past several weeks, and I'm truly, truly amazed by the breadth of your work spanning from orchestral, choral, you know, instrumental, and of course piano solo, and even ballet work that you've done. And it was such an extensive catalog, it's clear we can only cover so much in the limited time we have today. And since this is The Piano Pod, so I'd love to focus on your piano works in particular. And of course, later in the episode, we'll briefly touch on your other works as well. But before we dive into the details of your compositions, let me just start with a question that I have has become customary for our guests this season. So even with a distinguished artist like yourself, we rarely get the chance to truly get to know the person behind the music. You know, you usually have this beautiful profile photograph and then the CD album cover, but you just don't get to hear the personal story. So one of the purposes of this platform is to connect art with humanity. So I think we all want to get to know you in a more personal way. So my first question for you is, if you were to capture the essence of your artistry, mission, passion in just a few sentences, how would you define who you are as an artist today?

I see that for me it's quite important to say that too many people— I'm, uh, um, to spend too much time to explain the art. I usually say that if you have to say to explain your art, it means that there's not very much in your art. My art is what it is, and I'm not a philosopher. I'm not— so everything that I've got to say is in music. But that's the first thing. But I'm not going to avoid your question, so I'll say as well that for me, I'm looking for absolute on beauty, but beauty in the novel beauty, something that was not there before. And that would be sort of my— on novelty. Yes, novelty and beauty.

Wow, beautiful. I think it does show in the music. So we'll— let's dive deeper into your, uh, your compositions. So As a composer with such a diverse catalog, what draws you to the piano as a medium of expression? So we're now talking about piano writing.

It's a complex question. I think that first, I really love the instrument. But it's possible that it comes from my love of music itself, because the repertoire of piano is immense. And you, from the— when I was young, from the Bach preludes and fugues to Mozart piano concertos or Beethoven sonatas, Brahms, Chopin, Schumann, and you name them, sort of you— for me, the most important thing is always the essence of things. So music comes first above anything else. And I think that in a way, Maybe that's what attracted me for the piano, because the repertoire is incredible. But I think that if I'm honest, it's over that. Um, your first question asked me how I would define myself, uh, and I think that actually I can continue on that, saying that, um, when I was younger and people asked me in interviews— I mean, 20, 30 years ago— uh, who were my, uh, masters and my teacher or whatever, I would always say that I was very inspired, even if my style is not like that exactly, by Bach and Beethoven. These were my gods. And of course, I mean, not of course, but I love Mozart and I love Schubert. But 15 years ago, I found that this definition was not right for many ways. For many reasons. One of them is that it's not— I'm not old-fashioned, so it's not that my music sounds like Bach. There is a lot of counterpoint, uh, there is a lot of power like in Beethoven, but it's not the style. And I found that in all the history of music, there are two different types of composers, in my point of view. The composers that have, in a way, one thing to say, —on the one that are very extreme. So like the one that I would call the maniacal depressive, like the Mozart, the Schubert, that can have the really joy on things that are light and total depression on darkness. And I'm a member of this group. And I think that that is important because it's a distinction that you can find, because I suppose that whatever you do, you, um, you somehow— who you are goes through your music, uh, even if you are not trying to— I'm not a romantic, so I'm not trying to express myself. I'm trying to find beauty. You can't escape that if you're honest. Who you are will come through. And hopefully, because we are all human beings and we share the same problems, that's why we like the same things. But that on piano, because I'm coming back to the piano, is an instrument that has got both. So it's got high twinkly sounds that are like out of another world and peacefulness. And I mean, you can imagine where, I mean, you've got a lot of them in my music for piano. And that you find this type of sounds in Mozart. You think about the piano concertos, these things that are high on the right hand and just like a dream, you also have the power on the basis, on the drama that piano creates as well. And my music being— I think that for me, contrast is essence of art and the essence of life in general. And so I love the piano because of that. One of the reasons.

Yes, yes, I understand that. The reason I'm asking this, because not only because of your bountiful work, but also I think you originally started as a violinist.

Yes, I thought that I would have a dual career as a soloist, as a violinist and a composer. And there are not enough hours a day to do both. If you are going to— you're extremely hard on yourself and you want to play well, Playing an instrument well, it's like being a sportsman to the highest level. To even keep the level, it's just so many hours a day. And I thought that I would do that until I was in my early 20s and it started to be practical, the traveling and everything. And then I was very depressed because I worked something like 15 hours a day, which I don't mind because I'm a workaholic, but it was not enough. And I thought, because either I was frustrated I was not writing enough or not practicing enough. And I thought quite wisely for a 19-year-old, I thought, if it's like that when I'm 19, I don't have children, I don't have anything, it's not going to work. But I couldn't find a solution. And I was driving, no, I was outside, I was not driving yet, but I listened to a radio podcast or something. And they were talking about Chopin, and in his entire life, apparently, he gave something like 31 concerts or 30. Through his life, not in one year. And suddenly, ping, I thought, ah, I understand why he had come to Boscarière. But having said that, I'm a violinist, but I played the piano, and I've played roughly half of the Chopin études. Played probably half of the Beethoven sonatas. I can play the piano, not like the violin, to a much lower level, but I can play.

Yeah, totally, I understand. But I think coming from, you know, soloist violinist, I think it also shows, like, especially in the higher range that you compose in the piano, I can really hear the soaring, beautiful violin melody. Violin-like melody that I hear.

Yeah. So for me, music is abstract. And when I was young, it's used because it's one of these things that people repeat one after the other and people just don't doubt it. So my violin teachers used to tell me, oh, you know, you must listen to some singers because sort of the human voice is the ultimate or whatever the example. And I thought it was rubbish then. And I still think the same. Somehow all of these things are instruments to a higher purpose, and higher purpose is abstract music. That is not— nothing to do with the physical world in some way. Well, it is, but not in that sense. And both singers or instrumentalists are trying to get to that. They're not trying to become singers. That's And the singers are trying to— and it's interesting that the way that you, you get these special things with all instruments, it's quite similar actually, that, uh, um, that you cannot have tension. That if you want to play very high sounds on the violin or in singing or on piano, it's interesting. On the piano, from, let's say, sort of the C 2 octaves above middle C, there is a point at which if you hit the keys louder, the sound that comes out is softer actually. Because to get a loud sound, you need to— it's like dropping a stone on a lake, and when you drop the stone, suddenly the round appears. And it's the same with the high note. You press it and the sound grows. Because I don't know the reason physically, I'm not a scientist, but somehow if you address a small string at that height, it doesn't work. But it's the same in singing, it's the same in flute, it's, um, so it's quite similar. So in that sense, I don't think that, uh, but I was thinking because you said that because of the violin, I'm not sure that it's, uh, I think that, uh, it's the music that, that influences all the things. Somehow. That's a piano, um, has got these sounds. There are a few instruments that, uh, I've got this, um, beautiful pure sounds like cold water in a very hot day. You know, you've got the piano, you've got the vibraphone, you've got a few of these dreamy, uh, and I think that it's— there are two reasons why it's so difficult to transcribe pieces for piano. At least two reasons to other instruments. It's— one of them is that this type of dreamy sounds are very difficult to find a way that it's similar, unless you go to sort of harmonics in string instruments. But it's a little bit of the easy way as a composer to transcribe that in harmonics. And then there is a pedal, of course. That is something very specific to the piano that you probably have as well sort of automatically with instruments like the harp. On the piano, it's interesting. And when I was in my 20s, I always thought— and it probably had something to do with also the way that I was writing then— that when I wrote a piece for one instrument, it's just there was no other way to transcribe it to something else. But it changed when the first crack in that idea was maybe 20 years ago. I had a conductor that came to one concert that I had with a full concert of my music, and he heard a piece for septet. He contacted me after saying, you know, I'd like to commission from you a transcription for orchestra. And my first reaction was, I'm not doing it 'You can give me a million pounds, I'm just—' You know, I was 20 or something, so I said, 'I'm not doing it for no money, I just— it's not working.' But the man was a bit older, he was, I think, in his 40s or 50s, so he understood the youth on the extreme, and he said, 'Well, why don't you think about it?' And because I think that it could work, that piece, and it was a piece called The Shell Adagio. Uh, it became the Shell Adagio, and, uh, because it was the central movement of a piece that had 3 movements. And, uh, I, uh, put the phone down and I thought about it, and I thought maybe it could work. I could imagine it. So I gave him a call back and I said, you know, let's do a deal. We'll agree on a price that you pay me, I will try it If I don't like it, I don't give it to you, you don't pay me. Because there's no way that if I don't like it, you have it. If I— and then it worked, and the piece was nice. So that's— I thought, oh, that's interesting. And then after that, consciously, I— when I was commissioned a concerto for saxophone and orchestra, I said to the commissioner, you know, Why don't I do— because it's unusual— two versions, one for full orchestra and one for string orchestra with exactly the same solo part? And he became white, and I thought, why is he nervous about that? Because he thought that he had to pay twice for the commission. So he said, I'm sorry, I can't pay. I said, no, that's my problem, my artistic problem. I think that it's interesting. This is true, it was thousands of— it was a lot of work. But I thought, so that was something. And more recently, that's a total extreme, I had this piece that was commissioned by Carnegie Hall and another foundation, part of the Lullaby Project, it was a lullaby. And when they contacted me, I can't remember, it was maybe 10 years ago, they said, you know, we really love your music, and but what we will also like, but it's important for us that it will be played a lot. And we can see that your music, a lot of pieces are played hundreds of times. So it's, uh, we care about that, that it will have a legacy in some way. And I said to them, you know what, I've got an idea. If you want the piece to be played a lot as well, and it's a really big challenge for me, I will do two versions. I will do one version for solo piano and to make life very hard for myself, I will make a second version for string quartet. And that's— you can't more different. It's just like two worlds. Same piece, same number of bars, same piece. And I did that, and it worked very well. And after that, I had some friends from the— that said, oh, you know, could you do a version for trio? And then so string trio. And now I think I'm on version 13. It has just— it's just a bizarre thing, but it's like a, you know, like the asset of, you know, Ravel did this poem, it was an exercise in orchestration, the Boléro. But for me, it was almost like an artistic challenge to do this piece in various manners. And I've continued. And how you transcribe the piano to a different world, I think that there's hardly anything that is more difficult because it's so specific. And it's part of— when you ask why I like the piano, I suppose that it's part of it, that it's got this specificity that it's difficult to transcribe.

Can you maybe describe a little bit more about the specific challenge, the specificity you mentioned?

I think that the specificity is in the sound, the color of the sound. But I suppose that, you know, when you go to orchestra, whether you're a conductor or you listen to a concert, it's not by chance that the groups on the page You've got the woodwind on top of the score, and then you've got the brass, and then you've got the percussion soloist, and then strings. All the strings, they sound the same more or less. So of course, there are— cello doesn't sound like a violin, but it's the same family, same color. The brass definitely sounds very much the same in some way. The woodwind, it's not true. They each have their very, very strong individuality. The flute doesn't sound like an oboe, doesn't sound like a clarinet or bassoon. They have something in common. You could almost put like one of these groups piano and that's it. One instrument for a group because there is nothing else that sounds like it. Now I think that people, even musicians, don't always realize that I mean performers rather than composers, that the hardest things to compose for is one single instrument. If you are— you have a choice between composing an opera, an orchestral piece, a ballet, or let's say a piece for piano, piece for piano is definitely hard, harder by a long way. On the— on top of the tree, the most difficult things ever is one single instrument that is not the piano. So like it's a violin, or— I mean, it doesn't get harder. I mean, you just have to look for solo violin, and Mozart didn't do it, and he was a violinist, and Beethoven didn't do it, Brahms didn't do it. It's so hard. They did, and it's very impressive, and it's because it's so hard, one single instrument. So piano is still very, very hard because it's one single instrument. And the reason because of that is because one of the very important tools for a composer is counterpoint. Or counterpoint has sort of many, many melodies going on at the same time. And of course, on violin, you are limited. Even on piano. Sort of, you can have maybe 4 voices at the same time, but that's about limit really. And they are not as free as if you had a string quartet, because then each voice can do whatever it wants. So when we talk about The Piano Pod as an orchestral instrument, it's a mistake. I mean, an orchestra by itself, I mean. It's not really that, and it's in between. It's in between. It's the maximum that you get, apart from the organ that has got even the feet, so you have more voices. But it's almost the maximum that you can get as a single person playing one instrument. But it's still very, very far away from even a string orchestra where you would have 5 voices. And when I write for orchestra, there are 16 voices going on, and I love melodies, and I sometimes have 12 different melodies going on at the same time or more. There's no way that you can do on the piano, whatever you do. And so in my case, when I started to write for piano, uh, Well, so if you know, I wrote many pieces when I was young, and I don't count them because I started to compose when I was about 6 years old. But, you know, at some point you decide what is your Opus 1. It's an arbitrary decision, and it's— I suppose that it's when you think, okay, that's a work that I can die now, and it can be next to Beethoven, it's okay. And, you know, for me, it was when I was about 19. And I had written maybe hundreds of works before that, but this first work was a sonata for piano and violin. And then there were other pieces with piano from the start. My Opus 4 is called a suite, it's for solo piano. But in general, when I— in my 20s, I wrote a lot for piano, but not piano solo, piano as an instrument with another one. So piano and violin, piano and cello, Piano Pod, because I found that it was easier because I had more melodies. And it took me some time to find— I was afraid of the piano as a solo instrument. And it changed when I wrote a piece called Reminiscence of Childhood. It's my Opus 54, and I suppose that at the same time my music started to go a certain way in terms of polyrhythms, and I found a way to have my own writing for the piano, but that would have a lot of— that would have more counterpoint. And that would be my own world. And from there, I mean, we'll probably talk about that later, about my etudes that are even one step. Right, right, right.

Yeah, I was going to ask you that. So I think the reminiscences of childhood became sort of, I wouldn't say base, but sort of the start of your writing for piano solo instrument. Piano Solo Works, no?

Yes, absolutely. And it's interesting because the piece was not at the beginning conceived as a Reminiscence of Childhood. It was a commission for a single piece, which is the first one of the Reminiscence of Childhood, called Lucila Bihay. And it's— when I wrote it, and a lot of pianists liked it, they said, but it's a 4-minute piece. 'Why don't you write a couple more or something so that it's easier for us to program it because it's just 4 minutes?' And that's how sort of I composed the 3 pieces of Reminiscences of Childhood. And I found somehow the first piece was quite easy, I think, to remember to write. I mean, relatively, you know, when I mean quite easy, I mean that it took me, I don't know, 70 hours and not 200. Or at least it felt not— which was something good. And the two next pieces of Reminiscences of Childhood felt easy to write to.

Wow. So, you know, I want to focus on your Études and then the Schirren. Okay. So they're both in many ways share the similarity of series, piano series and shorter pieces. However, they serve contrasting purposes in audiences. One is, of course, that with the challenge of technical demands and also interpretation, you kind of have to have the ear for it. And as, of course, performer, you have to be the certain level of being a pianist. Now, as opposed to that, I wouldn't say Shirim is less in, well, maybe technical demands, but quality-wise, I wouldn't say less or more. So, but let's start with your etudes. So mastering a concert etude is often, you know, regarded as one of the pinnacles of achievement for pianists, and then I'm sure as a composer as well. So you're currently working on a full cycle of 24 etudes?

Yes, so that may come As you know, the number 24 for music is an interesting number because it starts from a purely tonal point of view. You've got 12 major and 12 minor scales. So that's why you've got the Prelude and Fugue of Bach that are 24, and then you double it, you've got 48, but it's basically 24. And then that's part of the magic of the number 24. Then there is a second part which is, uh, The Paganini Caprice, a capriccio for violin solo, which, uh, influenced, uh, of course Chopin and everybody that came after. And it's interesting because sometimes I get asked as a question whether sort of a performer influenced my writing in such a way. And I think that it cannot really be true for composers. And so the reason why Paganini sort of really influenced Chopin and Liszt is not because he was a fabulous violinist, but because he was a fabulous composer. Because to write these works, I mean, of course he was probably one of the most outstanding violinists of ever. But it's a little bit like, if you think about the 20th century, Rachmaninoff, he was a very great pianist, and probably Paganini was this type of people. But the reason why the piano writing of Rachmaninoff stays is not because he was a great pianist, but he was a great composer for piano. So he found a way to develop the instrument, and the same way Paganini found a way to develop the violin. And then sort of Chopin, Liszt, voilà, let's do the same on the piano. And since then, sort of, there was this, this will of developing the instrument in such a way. In my case, I didn't have a plan. I mean, sometimes in life, you know, it's the best plans without a plan. It's like sort of, you can try to find— you say, oh, I want to get married, I need to find a person, and it doesn't happen. Or it just happened that you meet the right person. But it's— in my case, I always loved the 24 Etudes of Chopin. I think that they are unrivaled in the sense that they are all beautiful. And 24 beautiful pieces, one after the other, it's quite something. I mean, even if sort of in my eyes, let's say Bach is a greater composer than Chopin, it's amongst the pinnacle of things that you can't get better. Like I would put Beethoven at the top as well. But if you think about the preludes and fugues, I think that Chopin wins because out of the 24 preludes and fugues, they are not all incredible. In my eyes, they are not all masterpieces. Whereas Chopin's etudes, they are. Each of them is quite something, and that is magical by itself. And so I always loved them. And not that I— as I said, I play the piano as well, so I've played also the Debussy etudes, I've played Rachmaninoff, but they don't get to the 24. Apart from anything else, 24 is quite a challenge. So, but I didn't have a plan. And like you said, Reminiscences of Childhood was— if we look at numbers, it was my Opus 54.— and they should start with Opus 66. Yes. It's interesting that it somehow started thanks to the Renaissance of Childhood. I'll tell you the story. Okay. Yes, yes. I remember that when I was at the academy, I had a friend that played the horn, and he told me this story about Mozart and the horn concerto, that if the horn is at abused Mozart saying, "I really want you to write," and things like that. Mozart couldn't cope with more with it, so he wrote the horn concertos. So lucky for the horn. Well done for the hornist. But in my case, sort of, I had this Russian-Belgian pianist that phoned me or got in touch with me, probably email, I can't remember. Answered: Look, I want to perform Renaissance of Childhood. I have got a concert at the Salle Gaveau in Paris, and I want to perform the Renaissance of Childhood, but it's not going to be a premiere because, I mean, the Renaissance of Childhood by now I think it's been performed probably by 200 or 300 pianists. But even at the beginning, it was already performed. So she said, but you know, for me it's an important concert and I'd like to commission a work if you got the time from you so that I have a premiere too. And her concert was something like 4 months ahead. So very, very short. And I said to her, well, look, I'm never late and I like to take my time and I don't quite see it. But then I had the idea, I said, but let me think, but maybe I always wanted to try to do an étude, so maybe I could write an étude. And I said, but give me, let me think about it. So at that point, I used to have my office on top of the house. So now it's in the middle. But, and I went down and I talked to my wife and said, You know, pianist, she's playing, she wants to play my songs of childhood and she plays very well. And I think maybe I can write an intro, but I'm not sure if I've got the time because it's only— and my wife said, oh, come on, Mozart wrote an opera in 3 weeks, you can do it. And I thought, okay, you know, let's jump in and let's try. Because I was still, after "The Midst of Childhood," I was still very afraid of writing for solo piano. Even if that worked, I thought, okay, maybe it's a fluke, you know, it just happened, but maybe the next one is going to be hell. So I say, okay, and I wrote "J'ai Tué" and it came so easily. I mean, I think that it took me maybe something like 50 hours, which is not very much.

The first étude you wrote? Yes, to write just the first. Ostinato étude? Yes.

Pleased. Um, and I said, oh, that's interesting. Uh, and then after that, I think that there was an Italian pianist— I think that he heard the étude maybe on YouTube or something like that, but that was just literally months after— and he said, you know, I loved it, would you write an étude for me? I'd like to commission an étude. So, what? Let's try! And I thought, okay, second étude. The first étude was about, for me, the Ostinato, that's why it's called Estinato. And I thought the second étude, what I'd like to do is something about, well, you know, when the left hand goes over the right hand, all this idea, uh, that would be an étude on, of that. And that's why I called it Half Moon, because, uh, the shape. And, um, and that went well too. I thought, oh, two! And it's, um, it continued like that. For a few etudes where I didn't have to plan to do the 24, but I was very pleased that it was working well. And I think that it's around when I was about 6 or 7 etudes that I started to believe that I could do it, and then it became a plan to do it. And it's a, it's a challenge. It's a, it's a very big challenge to do Um, to have each one being very, very special. You know, it's, um, it's interesting because, uh, human beings are not perfect. Uh, well, that's— yeah, but so because of that, if you take even the greatest of geniuses like Bach or Mozart or Beethoven, not every single work that they write is great. Because they are human beings. I mean, what is already incredible, that some can be, because someone that is not great, because human beings are not great, that can create something that is absolutely great, that's already strange by itself. But, uh, so the challenge of doing all the pieces that would, uh, work in that way is a big one. And for myself, I thought maybe if I If I give myself many years, and in between the pieces I write something else, I will always come fresh to it. And that's why it was a long— you talk about long-term project, that was a long-term project. I mean, now it's been more than 10 years, I can't— maybe 13 years, and I've done 15. Sometimes they've come a few, one after the other, and then I needed a break. And Sometimes there's been a longer break because I've written a lot of things for full orchestra or something, but it's, um, it has worked well for me. In a way, the more advanced you are in the numbers, the more difficult it becomes, also because each of them has their etudes. So etudes are etudes not only for the performer But etudes for the composer to find new things. That's the purpose of etudes. I don't know if it's true, but when I was writing— I can't remember if it's my Etude No. 8 or No. 9— I was talking to my friend, the pianist Clélia Hirouzoun, that commissioned me the piano concerto. And we were already talking, she was talking of commissioning me the piano concerto. And she said, you know, and I'm not sure if it's true, I'm not sure, but she said, you know, Chopin wrote his etudes in preparation for his piano concerto. And oh, I thought, oh, that's really interesting. And actually, in my case, I didn't do it like that, but when I wrote a piano concerto, I used all the tricks that I have found in my etudes. So that's why it's so tremendously difficult because almost it's like in one piece, the piano concerto has got a lot of the etudes combined. I mean, the new techniques that I found in the etudes that were not there before me, that if you know certain things that don't exist before Chopin or before Liszt or before Rachmaninoff, there are certain things that I found that makes the piano different. And so this is a big challenge to find novelty. Well, the etudes are tremendously difficult. It means that to perform them in concert, many good pianists couldn't be able to do it. Wouldn't make them bad pianists, but it's technically very, very— like, you know, sort of, you can be a good violinist and not being able to play a Paganini Caprice in concert. It's something specific. And my etudes are amongst— they are difficult, really, really difficult. Not on purpose, because it's not what— it was not my purpose, but because to create a new world that has got this it's necessary. There are just so many things happening in them at the same time that are very difficult. But so I thought I'd like to do something that is the opposite, almost. Right, right.

So that's the Shirim, right? Yes.

So Shirim, the idea was to write a piece that is playable not only by any pianist, but also that would be playable by amateurs. Of them. So when I started, my idea was that I was going to do 18 of them and that I was— that all of them should be playable by a good amateur. But as I was composing them, and I think that I, I was around number 3 or number 4, I found that I wanted to write something that was a little bit more complex, and that wouldn't be playable by an amateur pianist. Or in case— I've got a young daughter, I've got two daughters, one that is 21 and one that is almost 14. On the 14-year-old— well, she's almost 14— is at the moment practicing the Beethoven Appassionata Sonata. But she's not a pianist and she's not a musician. She just likes the piano. So I knew that a few of the— my idea at first was that all the pieces of Shirin, she should be able to play it because that should be that type of level. People that like the piano can play the piano well but are not professional. But when I was around number 4 or 5, I can't remember exactly, I found that if I continued like that, it might be boring. And so I had a look to understand if it was possible, if somebody had done it before. And actually, if you look at any work that is about 30 minutes long by any, as far as I know, great composers, you won't find one that has got no— that is entirely playable by an amateur when it's that length. I think that because it becomes boring if it's that long and there is no It's not enough contrast. So you will have, uh, 30 minutes. Maybe you could do it on a piece that was 12, 13 minutes, but not 30. I thought, okay, so I will allow myself a few of the etudes, of the Scherims, to be a bit more difficult. But in general, my idea would be to do something that was easier. But it's not only that. I think that it's also that I really love The Mendelssohn Song Without Words, that are this type of pieces. I suppose that in the 19th century, there's also most of the Schumann pieces were like that, made of all sorts of small pieces, which is—

Schumann, you have to play all of them, as opposed to Songs Without Words, for example, or even Edward Grieg's lyric pieces. They are comparable, right?

So, uh, so I think my, my case, I was thinking more about Mendelssohn, that you could pick them conceived in a way that they work well in the right order, right? If you play all of them, but you should also be able to pick and choose. It's very, very difficult to write good music, whatever it is. And there is no reason that— I mean, there's a difference. It's different to write something simple or some— I mean, it's not simple to write something simple. If you think about it, if you think about the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. It's not difficult, you can give it to pianists that have done a year of piano or something like that, but there's an— it's amazing piece. I think that it's just— there's a— it's a certain type of pieces in general they tend to be slow pieces that can be very complex but not that difficult. But also it's a certain type of pieces, and it's true, it's a big challenge. My father, that is an artist, is a great artist, told me that when I was young that he was saying about that at the Beaux-Arts they were making a mistake because for the entrance exam they were doing something that was a bit ridiculous. They were asking young painters to give them 12 studies on, let's say, a lampshade or whatever. And he said that— I remember because I was in my 20s then— he said that there's nothing more difficult to do variation on one topic for a young artist, because that's the pinnacle of difficulty for any art. And that's what you can do in a way when you are much older. And actually, I went for— usually I don't have very much time for— I mean, especially at the moment, it's so busy for holidays, but this time I went to— I had 4 days of rest and we went to Florence. Is my wife. And in Florence, there's this incredible church where these old paintings that he did of Fra Angelico, and they are in each room that he did because he was working in this church convent. He did a painting of the crucifixion, but something like 60 versions of it. But to do that, you need a certain age and a big imagination and a big palette. And these are things that I didn't do when I was younger. But like Shirin or like Zeytun, taking something, making sort of 12 or 18 versions of the same thing, basically, I mean, basically 2-minute pieces, that is very, very tough. I suppose that it's also, apart from that, it has got something about you know, like the short story compared to the novel. It's a different thing. It's a bit like people like Stefan Zweig or Turgenev, or were masters, or Maupassant, of the short story. And you can have people that can be masters of both. And I think that it's my case. I feel very good in big, big forms. But I like the small forms too. I suppose that it's true if even— it goes when I was making comparisons with the type of psychology of— with Mozart, that it's the same for him. He can do very, very, very large operas or long symphonies, small pieces that are equally beautiful. I think that simplicity of things that are not difficult to play, to do, are difficult for the composer because it's like if you told the painter, look, you can do a painting but you're allowed only 4 colors. So of course it's difficult, but it's the same way that I was saying at the beginning that it's easier to write a piece for full orchestra than for 3 instruments. The more you restrain what you are allowed to do, and any— in some way, it's especially when you are young, it's helpful to give yourself some rules because it means that you are not in the void, but it has got both aspects. It's also difficult to keep within the problematic of the piece. And I think that also, you know, it's like food, that if you've got— if you think about a culture where you eat a lot of small foods, like Lebanese or Indian, It's a different challenge than, let's say, a French cuisine where you have sort of big sort of a starter, a main, and then a dessert, and that's it. It's different. And the difficulty of when you do a lot of small dishes is to keep the interest and at the same time probably create A fill of the hole.

I really love, love the series of Shirim. So Shirim is Hebrew, right? Yes. I mean, in songs. And then the— is there any inspiration coming from your early childhood or of a culture?

It's for me, my wife is always joking to me about that because I say I'm a purist, or at least I appear to be, or I think of myself as a purist. I always say that I don't believe in ideology. So I think that music is pure and it's just about music. And so I don't care about the title. I actually sort of sometimes when I give an interview, I can't even remember the titles of my pieces. I remember all the notes, I could write them down, but sometimes I can't remember the title. It tends to be that, uh, but pieces need a title, uh, and, uh, especially the pieces in one movement. Because you write a piece in several movements, you call it sonata, symphony, whatever you want, and then you call it Symphony Number 1, Symphony Number 2. You write a piece that is one movement, you've got to give it a title. And I wrote a lot of pieces that are one movement And every— almost every single time I wrote the piece first and then I tried to find the title that would not put the performer in the wrong idea. And I hate doing that because I'm not a writer, I'm not— it's not my field. But in Shirin, it was— so I wrote the pieces first Some of them, I gave the titles before I started because I knew what I wanted from the piece in context of the others. And most of the time, it was after I wrote the piece to try to define the atmosphere. And it's a weird mishmash of languages because When I had to give the titles and I had to find 18 titles, in general, in my music, if you look from all the opuses, from Opus 1 to now, all the indications, I don't write them in Italian. I write them in English because I think the point of a musician is to be understood. On these days, English is a language that most people— so why would I write them in French or in German or in So, but when it came to give poetic titles to Shirim, they came to me more easily in French because I grew up in France. So I wrote all the titles in French, and then I thought about giving a general title to the thing, but I thought I cannot call them— because in a way, the title of Song Without Words was already taken. If I give the same Titles, it's a— I'm not someone— for me, novelty, and I don't like academism. And so the idea of writing something that would be like Mendelssohn and being inspired by Mendelssohn but in such a way is against my belief in what is art. So I thought if I give it the title of Song Without Words, people are going to think that I'm looking backwards, which is not what I'm doing. I couldn't call it that. And I thought if I call it in French "poème," then you immediately think about "Chaussons Poèmes," or all the things that are sort of, you know, associations. Like, you cannot— these days I did call some of my pieces "Nocturne," knowing full well that people were going to think about Chopin, because I thought, okay, it doesn't matter in this case. There was one, actually, only one. But in general, I think that it's dangerous. So I thought Shirim is basically in Hebrew exactly what Song Without Words is. Because it's like a lot of the— I don't speak Chinese, so I've not checked. But some of the very ancient languages, they have less vocabulary. I've got often words that mean several things compared to more recent languages. So in Hebrew, shirim, you use the word both for poems and songs. It's the same word. And I thought that that worked well for me, and I also like the sound of it. It sounds nice. And when you write it down, with a Latin alphabet. I think it looks nice too. I don't know, but that's how I can do it. But so, so the title is in Hebrew, uh, and all the inside titles are in French.

Wow, I absolutely love all of them. I've been listening to them. So, so for our wonderful listeners, be sure to visit nimrod- bornstein.com to explore these incredible piano works and purchase scores. You can also— we can purchase scores from the website, right?

Well, such as the scores are on my website, there are the links to the publisher. You can also— on my website, I try to do— if you go to the page with the works, you can click on listen to a YouTube version, or you can go on, uh, so you can listen to the piece straight away, and you can also go to the publisher to buy the piece. So it's I tried to make it easy.

Yeah, it was— it's very easy. Just the one click and it directs you to wherever you want to go. So, and all the recordings, most of the recordings are available either on YouTube or any other major music streaming services. Yeah, in Spotify.

I think that some of the more recent pieces are more available on things like Spotify sometimes. Pieces like Reminiscences of Childhood, you can Google it and then you'll find sort of maybe at least 20 versions of different people having played it different places. Shirin is a more recent piece, so I think at the moment it's, uh, you can only find some on YouTube, some of the pieces, but all the recording is on Spotify, on, you know, Apple Music, all the streaming services, because it was recorded with my piano concerto. It's in the same CD because I thought it was an interesting combination. Contrast? Combination, yeah. On the CD there is Chérine, there is a piece for piano quintet, Light and Darkness, and then there's a concerto. So 3 ways that I like to use piano. Piano has been a companion for a long time.

I'm so glad to hear that. Now, So just briefly, I want to talk about the piano concerto because that's a massive, really large piano work, one of the large piano works that you've written, and I absolutely love. And the second movement is extremely emotional. So can you introduce us to all these three movements, moderato, adagio, and allegro? Yes.

So first, I think that maybe I'll say something about way it fits. I decided about 10 years ago, a bit more now, to write concertos for each instrument— or not all of the instruments. At the beginning, I thought I would write concertos for the three main instruments, so piano, violin, and cello. And because I, um, I think the concerto form is a very great form. And I, when I was very young, I played— oh, as a violinist, I played all the concertos. And now I still know by memory. You could give me a violin and I could probably play 20 or 25 of them by memory, completely from beginning to the end. And I know the piano concertos very well. And I think that it's a pity that in the past 50 years, that's not— well, in my eyes, not been written anything that is comparable to the past. So if I think about Shostakovich, Prokofiev, amazing concertos, and Rachmaninoff of course. And after that, I think partly because sort of, uh, if you think about Messiaen, who was a great composer for piano, but concerto was not his— oh, to talk about psychology, he was not someone that the piano— the concerto sort of one person against everybody, that's a sort of quite a Beethovenian feel. I like that. It was not Messiaen. So we didn't get any really important contribution. And I wanted to do that. So it was one of my projects to write a concerto. And it— but it didn't happen in the order that I thought it would. It started with a cello concerto. But after that, some people loved it, so they commissioned me concerto for saxophone, for bassoon for— and then I had the violin concerto. And but in a way it's really lucky because like that it matured the way that I was writing concertos. And also in the other instruments I didn't quite need that, but for the piano, the fact that I started to write the etudes, like you said, so that when I arrived to the piano concerto I was ready, it was mature. And so I decided that it was— it's been sort of quite something that I've done a few times now already. I think that one of the mistakes of— or mistakes, it's difficult to say mistakes or not mistakes— but of a certain type of contemporary music in, let's say, 50 years ago or that is very, very old-fashioned was to think that to write something new, you just— it was enough to, let's say, you wrote a new piece, you were a contemporary composer, if you wrote a piece for 12 trombones, 1 clarinet, and fine, and that will make you original. And I never believed in that. I thought it was just totally stupid and too simple, actually, that the The real novelty should come from what the composer plays with, which are the notes and the rhythm. These are— and you need to be strong enough that that would be enough for you. And so it was a rational way of doing it. I always believed in that. And in a different way, I did the same with, uh, in a bigger form for the orchestra. So a few years ago, when I had a Ashkenazi, I was writing a piece for him as a conductor.

And Ashkenazi as in the Ashkenazi, right? You're talking about Vladimir Ashkenazi. Yeah, I'm just saying, clarifying for my audience. Yes, it's a big, big name drop here. Yes.

So I'm writing for him an overture, and we were talking because it was for the Philharmonic Orchestra, and he had a concept in mind. And I said to him, so what are you performing on that day? And he said, I'm performing Tchaikovsky's Thieves, and I can't remember something else. And I said, you know what I'd like to do? I mean, I'm going to write a piece that's got the same orchestra as Tchaikovsky's Thieves so that people can see that it's not about the orchestra, it's about what you write. So the orchestra will sound totally different with what I'm writing. And at the end of the day, because it was 2 years in advance, When we got closer to the time, he got fed up with Tchaikovsky. He said, I conducted it so many times, let's change it. So it was— he played Walton first. But never mind. So, but to come back to The Piano Concerto, so my idea was it was going to be a concerto that was going to sound very, very big. But the orchestra is the one from Beethoven Emperor, or you could— it's the same orchestration as Schumann also. Schumann and Beethoven Emperor Concerto have got the same orchestration. So it's not a huge orchestra. And if you listen to my recording, you will see that it feels like it's a Malerian orchestra, but it's not. The power comes from something else, but the number of things that are happening at the same time— and I thought a few years ago, I was giving lectures because I like to give lectures, lecture recitals about the concerto form and how you start You basically have different variants of how you start. Let's say the old way, sort of a long introduction, and then the story comes. Or you can have sort of more modern— I mean, what came after, like straight away, like Schumann or Mendelssohn, or for Mendelssohn violin concerto, Schumann piano concerto, it's straight away, or Beethoven Emperor again. Or you can have in between. Tchaikovsky. But there are a few different ways that you can do it, and then you can start with both together, or you can— and I thought in general, if it's not The Piano Pod and it's a first movement that is big, you cannot start with a— you cannot start a violin concerto a first movement that is flamboyant with the violin solo. It will feel like nothing. I mean, you can start with violin solo like in Prokofiev No. 2, but it doesn't start like that. It sounds— it starts gradual. With The Piano Pod, big instrument, you can start with the piano. So I decided to give myself the idea it's going to start with a beginning You know, like the— in a way, but that's not piano solo. When you think about Tchaikovsky first, big beginning, or certain— or Rachmaninoff. I wanted this type of beginning. It's just piano, but big. It feels like— so that's the first movement. After that, there are lots of different things in it, but it's got this peculiar beginning that brings the orchestra That was the idea of the first one. Of course, it's not— no piece of art can be according to the plans. It's like some writers say that when they write novels, their characters decide to do what they want to do. It's a little bit the same. I'm trying to find the perfection, and when it goes as it goes, it's like a story, and I don't— I find what it needs to go. So I've got an idea when I— before I start, but after that it goes where it needs to go. Second movement, I wanted to do something that I tried to do in my violin concerto, but in the violin concerto, when I was— violin concerto is in 4 movements, not 3. But when I— before I was writing the third movement, I said to my wife, now I'm going to write something that is like this Mozart Piano Concerto slow and very slow and serene, this sort of thing that is out of this world. And then I write this movement that is as dark as— it's very slow, it's so dark, it's just like you've lost all your family, you are dying, it's just end of the world. It works as well because it was what needed to be there. I felt it needed to be slow, but that's what it was. But I arrived to The Piano Concerto of Fiona Slater, I said, this time I'm going to dance the magical second movement Mozart type. And that was my goal for this second movement, this dreamy movement. And this time I got it. It's a dreamy movement that kind of like, because as I said, contrast is important. So even if the main atmosphere of the movement is that of peace and sort of these twinkly things, but of course it's got very, very, very dark moments. It's like, you know, at the moment I've got a commission for guitar solo for in 2 years' time, and I was asking the guitarist that— he said, oh, you write whatever you want. I said that, you know, it's a 7-minute piece, I've got basically 2 options. Either it's going to be a piece that is in general fast, it's a fast piece, but there will be bits that are slow, or it's going to be a slow piece that has bits that are fast. Because you cannot write something that is that long that is in one color. So it's a little bit the same in a concerto. Inside the second movement, there are various things, but the second movement has a feel of— for me, what I am What I think that is proper to the piano as well is this feel of clear water. You know, if it's really hot on a hot day and you are outside and you walk and it's very, very hot, I think 35 degrees Celsius, you know, and then you get into the air conditioning and you have a glass of cool water. That's the high sound of the piano. With pedal. Dreamy. It's just such a well-being. So that's my second movement. And the last movement is very fiery and more so than the first one, but it's got a lot of lyrical passages. What is in common with all the movements is my my writing of polyrhythmies in the piano. And it's, uh, it's inside the piano part, apart from being with orchestra. Uh, it's, uh, probably I would say it's one of the— I think that it's the hardest piece I've written in terms of conducting, because I conducted it. It doesn't feel like that when you listen to it, but I like to play with, um, with rhythm. And, um, uh, if, if some— someone that is listening to your program is not a musician, I can simplify it. Let's say that you've got a pattern that has got 7 notes, but you, uh, that's your, uh, your melodic pattern, 7 different notes, but you put it above something that the rhythm that plays 5 notes per beat. So where you feel is the beat is every repetition of the 7 notes, but that's not a real beat. If you do that in various ways, different instruments at the same time, the feel of where is the beat and where it is is totally different. And it's a— as a conductor, you really want to be on the right beat. And it's true for the first movement and the last movement, they are tricky for that. But I think that it's part of the novelty. It is this. I suppose that all that, it's— I don't know, it's what we started with. I think that all this explanation of what you want to do, they don't have any importance if the person that listens to them cannot feel it. It's just words. It's, of course, it's my kitchen, but it's like sort of you go to a restaurant. If the cook brings you something and you start to eat it and say, oh my God, it's awful, he can tell you, but no, it's really interesting because I tried to do that. Who cares? It didn't work. So you need to understand all that. If you want to be a cook, you need to understand what you're doing. But in a way, it's a From my point of view, the performers also need to understand what I'm trying to do, but the audience needs to just feel it because it's not their job. The job is to— it's like you listen to a story, you feel the story. Wow.

So you're quite a— I compare you as an with being an architect, build something that people can live inside but also enjoy the aesthetics. But to be who you are, I think I want to talk about two big influences in your life. One is your father, who is Alec Weinstein. I've seen his works online. Wow, what a talent, what a gift, right? He's an oil painter or everything.

He was a child prodigy.

I mean, and then as you are too. So I'm curious, and also I want to later talk about, of course, Maestro Vladimir Ashkenazi. We mentioned, so we can't ignore that. But first of all, I kind of— I'm curious to know what sort of conversation you had as a as a young person, as a child you were with your father?

About everything. My parents, both my dad and my mom, always treated me as an equal, as an adult, in terms of intellectual, not in terms of— I was a child, I was allowed to be a child. My parents were very protective in the sense that I think it's the first time that I really left the house and went alone was when I was 17, and I left for London, and I was totally alone. But I think because I received all the love when I was young, so I was perfectly okay. But, uh, so, but I mean, you know, they never believed in, um, they were very intellectual. My mom passed away, that's why I put it in the past, but, uh, and they discussion. Sort of, they didn't believe that they would say it's like that because it's like that. So if they told me something, they had to prove it to me and to explain it. And so things had to be discussed and explained, and you could disagree. It's not— they didn't say, no, it's right because we are older, we know. That didn't exist. Even if it's— probably most cases it was true, but it was not the reason that was given. And in terms of art, I think that if you talk to my father, you will probably have a— he might— when we talked together, he was not exactly aware of what I picked up. You know, like when you have children, you say a lot of things, and some things resonate with them, some things less, and they don't— they have their own personalities. For me, I think that it's like any education, it's What you say is almost less important than what you do and who you are. My dad, for me, is a big hero, and he's a very, very moral person in life, which that is a plus, but not necessarily as a great artist, but in art. And that I admire enormously. And this is the part that he probably doesn't agree because he's not like me. For him, it He thought that, he thinks that you should dissociate the two things and that it's otherwise it's a little bit like, it's too simplistic to think that the human being and what you create is the same thing. I think that it has some similarities and I learned to, even when I was, when I started to write music when I was 6 years old, my dad told me, you know, the most important thing of all is— or one of the most important things is that it's new, that nobody has done it before. And that's because some people say, oh, it's— sometimes these days they say, oh, someone writes music and it sounds like Vivaldi, you say, but it's good, it's good. No, it's— I don't agree with that. If you write now and you write and it sounds like Vivaldi, it's not music, it's not creation, it's the opposite of creation. Almost, because the essence of creation is that you try to do something that's new. If you write like Vivaldi, but because you never heard Vivaldi and that's what came to you because you are— you lived in a growth for— who knows? Okay, when I was, uh, 8 years old, uh, I started to write with 12-note music. And I thought that I discovered it. So I remember I was very excited because I thought about I'm going to use 12 tones, and I had never heard about Schoenberg. By chance, I don't know, I think that there is— there are sort of certain things that lead you to certain ways you arrive. But my music didn't sound like Schoenberg, even the 12-tone music. It was very much my own. But so that is important because in, I think, this lesson that art has to be new, and most important of all, it's not that it's new so that everybody agrees. Because these days, you know, when people talk about avant-garde, they talk about avant-garde and they all do the same, and they say that's new. That's not new if everybody is doing the same. That cannot be new. I mean, that's obvious in some way. But it's not, and that's what's really different. But that's not enough because it has to be interesting, of course, and beautiful and that. But what type of beauty you try to create differs according to the artist. What he— I'm, maybe because who I am, I, I'm someone that is striving for the absolute. So I think I believe in absolute beauty. It's my belief. My dad is not— he says that he's not like that exactly. I'm not sure, but at least it's how he feels about it, that he likes— he thinks that it's interesting, the imperfections, as something that is a perfection by itself. A life sort of you— I think that it's, you know, when— to give you an example, when people talk about writing great melodies or something like that, people then imagine you, you write great melodies, but you can write them like Rossini or Beethoven. Beethoven writes great melodies, very great melodies. I don't think that there are great music without great melodies. But it's not always what you think. And for me, so yes, this idea that you shouldn't follow everybody and that you— and that academism was bad, but that's the negative things. There's also the positive things. But, um, that discussion, continual discussion, but it was not only about about music, it was about— I tried to understand what he was doing in his own art and then transpose it to my own, and it was a dialogue. So, he will tell you, he started a series— he's a very virtuosic artist, and he started a series of paintings on clothes that are with— and he called them Capricci. Caprice, because they are very, very virtuosic. He says that he was inspired when I was practicing the Paganini Caprice. So the influence went— by that time I was 14 years old, so there was, uh, it was total, uh, it was, I suppose, an intellectual family where we talked politics with my mom that was a teacher at university. We— about politics like you talk about history. Not in terms of I believe in that, but discussing ideas. So that was, uh, that was interesting. And I see that in my case it was very— there is, if you compare a composer to, let's say, an artist or a writer, they've got a lot in common and they deal with same things. But a composer and a performer, that's very far away, it's a totally different thing. An artist will understand a lot more what I'm doing than a musician, normally, because it's creating from nothing. It's a different experience. So in, in that sense, that was— that helped me a lot, even if I think that in some way it's not direct, because music and paintings are two different things, and so the practical aspect of it is really, really different, and Um, even on certain things, I think that he— when I tried to listen to my dad and he tried his best, I went into sort of a dead end because in music it didn't work, or it sort of distressed me because I couldn't quite— so, but it was very, very fruitful. And I suppose that if I had to put two influences, the biggest in my life would be my dad And then the great composers. So Bach, if I go in order, probably from the Bach and then Mozart, Beethoven, the big ones, I think. And then probably in a different way, people because of the sounds, Debussy and each of the big ones, because the secrets are in their music.

Yeah, and can we talk Mr. Ashkenazi? Yes. So he, he, as a, you know, he's known as a pianist to begin with, but he's now a well-known conductor, and he premiered your two orchestral works, no, as a conductor?

Yes, I think he did three, I think. Three?

Oh my goodness, the one is the big band and Uh, the other one is "If You Will It, It Is No Dream." Oh, and did he also produce an album under— it's called Chandos?

Am I pronouncing it right? Yes, it's a label.

Yes. Okay, okay, that is a label. And so he performed your pieces?

No, he recorded. That was, uh, great.

But, uh, yeah, it's, uh, That's a big monumental achievement. I mean, one of the many achievements you've made, but this is a big one, no?

Yes, I think that for me there are two different things that are very different as an artist. There is, uh, what you are really looking for that has got nothing to do with practical weight, has got nothing to do with fame, it has got the real achievement is what you write, and that's it. That's what will be there in 200 years or something like that, and it doesn't matter. It's like, you know, whether you're famous, you're not famous, doesn't change anything. I mean, Mozart, you don't know where he's buried. Vivaldi is the same. And yet, I mean, fame is fickle, and it's just, it's not the point, I think. And it's, it's, um, It's not something that I really— that I'm interested in, in some way. But on the other hand, I think that it's because if you write music, it means that you really love it above anything else. And then it's like in love in life. Let's say that if you love— in my case, if I love my wife, of course I want other people to love my wife as well, because I want people to see That is wonderful. So it's the same about my works. If you really love what you wrote, you want to share it, but it's not something about ego. It's not ego. So, and I think that in some way there are two aspects with people like Ashkenazy. Uh, there is the aspect of the career that is a big one, uh, but there are also other aspects. For me, I listen to his recordings as a pianist all the way since I was a young boy, I knew all his— well, one of the reasons why I really love that much the Chopin tunes are through his recordings. I was listening a lot to his recordings of the Chopin tunes. Then after that, I listened to Cortot, to all sorts of different people. It started with Ashkenazi and the Beethoven sonatas. I, when I was young, I used to— because it's not like now that we've got YouTube, you can compare easily We were not rich, my dad was an artist, so we couldn't afford to buy lots of different recordings. So I used to, when it was played on the radio, you had this tape and you could record the radio, and I used to have, I don't know, 6, 7 different performances of the same works and listen to them and try to understand what they did different. So it was true for all of that, and for the Beethoven sonatas, there are many, many different versions of them. Ashkenazi was then of them. Then there's even the older one of Schnabel and Backhaus and all these people, and Rubinstein or Horowitz for some of them. But, you know, but so Ashkenazi, when I was— I think that I got in touch with him when I was 30 years old, so around 30-something, and By then he was like, well, he was a legend to me, someone that I had lived with, with the way that he did music for a long time, and that I had a great respect, and I loved the way that he played. And, um, but it's not because of that that I contacted him. I, um, I heard an interview. He was talking, someone asked him about his relationship with Shostakovich. And he replied about what he thought it was to be a composer, something like that. And I don't know, I had the feeling, I thought, if I managed to get in touch with him, I'm sure that he will love my music. I had no doubt. I was not sure how I would get in touch with him, because that's difficult. Because the more people, the more well-known are people, the less time they have, the more difficult they have to They have no choice, so it's difficult. So I wrote to his agent, Jasper Parrott, thinking, oh my God, it's just— I had some career, I was 30, I was not 20. But I said okay. And the next day I received a reply saying he's listened to some of your music, he's very, very busy, but he'd like to meet you. And that, uh, um, and I met him something like 2 weeks or 3 weeks later when he was conducting a concert in London. So we met in— and it's, it started from there. It's, uh, great respect. And, uh, it's, it's interesting. I wouldn't say that, that any of this influenced my music because music cannot be influenced by I see that I can be influenced by other composers, but not by performers in that sense. But on the other hand, it's when you've got someone that is such a great performer, you realize what— I always thought so, but it makes you— I think what makes great performer It's nothing technical, even if technique is part of the thing, but it's the capacity of when you play the music or you conduct the music to be in the music, not to perform it, to be the music. Like sort of if you are an actor, you perform your Hamlet, you are Hamlet. And I find that it actually is It's quite rare. I always felt— I think that composers normally, I mean, if they feel comfortable on stage, that's how they perform. Because otherwise you wouldn't be able to be a composer. Music means something for you that is very, very strong, and every note means something. But this is a secret of music, and it's quite rare, actually. Then you can like the style or dislike the style. You can have people that you think, oh, it's vulgar or something like that. That if they are great soloists, when they play, they really play. They mean it. They mean every note. And Ashkenazi, there was that, of course, but there was also something of— because we worked together, I remember the first time, the first he performed one of my pieces as a conductor, he said, okay, let me work on it for a couple of months, and then we meet and we can have a look together. And 2 months later, I, uh, I go and meet him. And it's— he used to give, I don't know, maybe 200 concerts a year or something crazy, a crazy timetable. And we, uh, we met, uh, and he opened the score. On every single page was just— there were so many annotations on so many colors. First, I was pleased because I do the same. I, I color in my scores when I conduct. I, uh, I use colors. So I was quite happy to see that I was, I was not alone. So that was— but I looked at the amount of work. I mean, just to color in the things that he did, it probably would have taken 30 or 40 hours. And There are just so many people that are nowhere as busy as him, that are smaller careers or something like that, that conduct us, that we conduct my works, and will have spent insufficient time. Because, and I think that there is no shortcut if you, you want to conduct a piece that is 30 minutes long If you are not going to spend 50 or 60 hours, wherever you are, it's not going to be good. Even if you are Maler, it's just because if someone— sometimes you could say that there is almost a relationship between how long it's taken to compose it to how long it takes to learn it. It's not equally, but if you spend 500 hours writing the work, there's no way that someone can learn it in 10. Just absolutely not. Impossible. I, uh, I mean, in a, in a month and a bit now, I'm conducting a, a new, um, new piece of mine that I'm writing for the English Chamber Orchestra, and we are doing the premiere in 6 weeks or something like that. It's a song cycle on Shakespeare's sonnets, and it's, uh, It's about 20 minutes long, 5 sonnets, and I think that I've spent already learning it for the conducting part at least 50 hours, starting from a point where I know all by memory before I even start, because I wrote the work and I know what I want to do. So that's quite a good point to start. But still, I suppose that in life, anything you if you want to do it well, you need to— it needs to feel like it's a matter of life and death. And I think that that is— in Uzza Chenazi, he had that. He sort of, when he was on stage, when he was rehearsing, it mattered. And he was not— I mean, when we started to work together, he was not that old. He was probably 60-something. So that's not old for these days. Towards the end, when he was 75 or 76 or more, I mean, that's not that young anymore. I suppose that it's— that was impressive. And there were— and it's also, I think that it's interesting that you, as a composer, when you write works, there are two things that are absolutely precise on that you can write are the notes and the rhythm, and that is precise. The dynamics are not precise, first because you can probably do a range of thousands of dynamics, but you write only 6 or 7, from pianissimo to fortissimo. It's not enough to— but on top of that, also because it's There are more— in many places in music there is more than one option. So if you've got an option where there is a contrast, that it would work equally well by being loud and soft, but also soft and loud, as a composer you cannot write anything at all. So most of the places in music where you see nothing written are the places that need the dynamic, because the only thing that could be wrong is not to do the contrast. That would be wrong. So this type of things, you, you try to, with experience, to learn how you write dynamics. And over the time, you can see, uh, in Brahms or in Beethoven, that the way that they put the dynamics according to the age and their experience changes. And I have not escaped that. I write dynamics a little bit differently than I used to do, I think, over the time. You get— whether you get better at it or different, it's difficult to say, but you change. And working with great musicians is interesting because sometimes they didn't get it because they should have, you know, because everybody is human. And sometimes they didn't get it because maybe you were not Maybe you needed more, because for you as a composer, music is very obvious. It's what you do, and it's— but you don't write music for other composers to perform you, even if it happens. You write it for great performers to perform you. And so you need to also understand how, from the other point of view, it goes both ways. The, the performance needs to understand what's the problematic of notation for the composer, but the composer also needs to understand how to best convey. It doesn't change the work because, as you know, I mean, in Bach there is nothing written. So I mean, that's partly because in the music of Bach it's so much about contrast, and in many times doesn't matter which way. So of course he can't write anything. That's the main reason why there is nothing written. Beethoven, it's a little bit more— sometimes there's only one way, and that's why he can write dynamics. Sometimes he can't. I would say that in my case, it's medium, it's in between. I think in general, sort of, the atmosphere is one, but not always, not always. So yes, I learned a lot with Asténa Zee, for example. When we started working together about maybe 20 years ago, one of the pieces he conducted was the piece "If You Will It." And when we did the rehearsal, I told him, "Louder!" And he said, "But you wrote forte!" And for me, it was obvious that all dynamics are relative. So I thought, okay, the softer dynamic in the piece is piano, the loudest is forte, so the piano should be the softest and forte the loudest. But Ashkenazi thought a different way. He thought about that there are fortissimos, so forte is less than fortissimo, even if there are no fortissimos in the piece. I said, okay, that's a— it's, it's a point of view, it's just notation. So I understood that maybe I needed to, to write it a bit of a different way. So there were— he also suggested some, uh, sometimes that it would be, uh, useful to put a word about the type of emotion. So, um, so you would not only the dynamic— so if you got something that comes from a really big fortissimo and then there's piano, The Piano would be a sort of relief from the forte. But is it peaceful or is it mysterious? So if it could be either, and I'm happy with either, because myself, if I was conducting it, sometimes it would be that, sometimes it would be that, then not write anything. But if I'm— for me, it's quite obvious that it's mysterious, then maybe write it. When one option, and it's a specific color, even if— because when you, you write your music, you spend so long on it that of course it's obvious for yourself. So, and the performer will— first, it's not you, and each person is different, but also will not have that amount of time. So I think that, that I learned, and I learned things about as a conductor. I learned how he was dealing with the rehearsal time. 'Oh, that was interesting, I like that.' And, but also, that I found sort of, he was, in that he was very, very similar to my dad. I think he's a very nice man, and he hated people that were not modest and that were putting other people down. He would treat the porter or a very rich person exactly the same, and I I think it's important for me too. And it doesn't mean that it's— it's— I think that in a way it's nice to be nice, but it's also— it's not that the person is not confident, but he's so confident that he doesn't need to try to pretend that he's happy with who he is. And he was really— he was very nice, just with people, and it was I don't know, it's just, you know, when you are— you try to be like that yourself, uh, and not many people are in a, in a, in a, in a business that is so hard to achieve. And you see someone else that— and people tell you, you are too nice, you are too nice, you are too nice. And then you see someone else that is nice too. You think, oh, it's nice. That was— you know, you don't need to— I think that it's That was a— because my dad is my dad, so that's something. But somebody else that would behave well and with kindness and with— it was a— and we shared also some, some other things, like I'm never late for anything. And so I'm never late for my commissions, so I take enough time. And also, I, I, because I want the things to good, I tend to arrive early for rehearsal or something like that. And when we did a concert in Leicester, he was conducting the Philharmonia, one of my pieces, and I left early and I said to my wife, well, she said, no, I'm not arriving 2 hours before or something like that, it's your craziness, just I'll come with your dad and he will come later. I arrived 2 hours early, but Arkady was already there because he was like being nervous. So we shared a sandwich because he was there 3 hours before. Oh my God. So he said, do you want, I've got a sandwich, do you want to share the sandwich?

Really? That is—

As I said to my wife, you see, I'm not totally mad. Wow. I think it comes from the same thing. If you want to do well and you want to give yourself the chances to do well, you don't do it at the last minute. Having said that, it's a psychological thing. So some people that are great are last-minute people. So I mean, you can't categorize. But in this case, he was very much like me, early person. And he traveled— what I liked as well is He traveled with his wife most of the time. They had a nice relationship, which— that's something that I learned from my dad as well. You know, it's so many— so easy in life to find excuses. So you are a bad person because art is difficult, so you betray your wife, but you are an artist. Or, you know, all sorts of things, excuses that have got nothing to do with it. I mean, What have you to do with it? You can be a really great composer or a terrible human being like Wagner, or you can be a good human being like Mozart or Schumann. I mean, it's got nothing to do with your art. So yeah, I think that that's something that I like to see. And that was a— and it was a long It was over many years. Zeškenazis, so I can't remember it really, all the examples, but it's also, yeah, I think that it was also, for example, when we recorded the CD, and he was conducting my violin concerto, and And I had a violinist friend of mine that played my music very, very well, and she was not very well known. And, but I saw that she— I was convinced that she would play it amazingly well because she's a fantastic violinist. And I thought, I'm going to ask Ashkenazi if he's okay with it because it's his CD, his idea, you know. And so I went and I started by, you know, trying all sorts of, you know, I don't know, but maybe, and I said— so he said, come on with it, what do you want to say? And I said, well, uh, there's this violinist, she's played my music, she's commissioned some pieces, she's a very, very fantastic violinist, but hasn't got the career that She deserves. But so, but I would be very happy if she played my concerto on the CD. And he said, well, you are the composer. You think she's good. That's it. So that, yes, yes, that's, I think, paints the person. Wow. Well, yeah. Quite a good example. And I'm sort of— but funnily enough, you know, there are, for me, there are two Ashkenazis. There's the Ashkenazi of all the CDs that I listened when I was young, and he's one person, and there's also one that I know, and I just don't manage to— I think two different people. Really? It is like that when you know people. There's a real human being, right? And the construction, the legend that you had when you— they are two different things. Wow.

But, you know, this is exactly what I'm trying to do. Like, you know, you as a composer and performer, what I see from all these beautiful photos and, you know, the websites and everything, and then the Spotify, and then now you as a human and telling me about these beautiful stories and backstories. So it's really fascinating. So now let's go back to you. What do you hope your audiences and the performers who would perform your piece take away from playing your pieces? And also, what do you hope to leave a legacy as a composer? I know you're very young. So, yeah, no, no, but, you know, it's nice to think about these things.

So, yes, well, I always, you know, I think that it's true that when I started to write music when I was 6, my goal was to be as good as Beethoven or Bach, my heroes. And I think that it's a different— I always thought that I don't write music because I like it. But because something else. But so your question about legacy is something that I always thought about, even when I was 6. I think that, you know, my dad has told me that a lot of people that do, that are amateurs, in his case in painting, say, oh, I like painting. But real artists don't like it in that way. It's not a hobby. It doesn't mean that you must love it, but love and liking are two different things, because in love you can have a lot of misery too. You love something, so, so there's that. So in the legacy, I think that, um, until I was— for me, there was a point in my music where until then I always thought— because it's got nothing to do with what other people think, it's what you think. And I, uh, it's when I, uh, I composed the piece, uh, The Magic Mountain, which is my Opus 30. I thought, I can die now because that piece is great. And even if I die, there's one piece that is, uh— and after that, it never felt the same. And then I had, about 10 years ago, I had lunch with a pianist that was playing my works, and she said, you know, I think that you are in the golden age. You know, like there was Schumann, a time where he wrote all the pieces that he wrote were great. And then you are lucky, it's your time. So it felt like that, you know, you can't write one piece after the other, sort of, I don't know. But, uh, so I think that for me it's more— now I'm not that young and I've gone over Opus 100, so, uh, I don't have to think about— I think there's a legacy even if I died now, is there, because it's a lot of work. But I have my own, you know, it's like a— it's like sportsman. In that sense, it's a human thing, sort of you want what you don't have. So, you know, like a tennis player that has won sort of lots of— like Djokovic, that he had won all the Grand Slams but he never won the Olympics. So he always wanted the Olympics because that's what— even if he was the greatest player of all time, that he didn't get. So for me, it's— and also I feel like it because I think that's something that will suit me very well. I want to do a few operas. Which I've not done, and probably a few more pieces for orchestra, that are practical sort of certain things that I feel that are immediate points of call. But if you ask for the— what I want people to get from my music, I would suppose that it's like what you get from any great music. I think that life in general— even if I'm very, very smiling, but life is hard, mostly because whoever you are, never mind how much money or luck you have, we die. And even more problematic, people that we love die, because when we die, we are dead. But death is a very, very difficult thing in life, not talking about the others. And I think that art helps us. For me, when I lost my mom, the only time where I could feel okay was when I was composing music. Any other time, the pain, the horrendous pain, would stop. And I know from friends that are not musicians that it helps also. It's the beauty of it. I think that Freud, the psychoanalyst, would say that it's the sublimation. The role of art. And so we make things that are painful beautiful. So I would hope that the world that I create in pieces is so beautiful that it takes out of our— I mean, it's not only that, because I mean, music can be savored when you are happy, but it's got a special role when life is hard. And so I would like my music to be listened to so that's when people feel really that they have difficult time that they listen to Mozart, Beethoven, but also mine in the same sense, no different, sort of that it gives a feel of— that's when I say that I want to create beauty is that it's not beauty in terms of it's just pretty, it's beauty in terms of In the Greek philosopher's sense, that like beauty and moral, all these things are one thing. I think that's how I would turn it. Even if, you know, it's not something that you think all the time for yourself, you just— but when I write music, I want to write— every time that I go and I work on my piece, I want to write something that is the most beautiful that I can possibly do, uh, and that has got no vulgarity whatsoever, that it's, uh, it's all that I give, all that I could, to the maximum of my ability.

Wow, wow, I can't top that. I mean, what, what, what else can I say? Beautiful. And I think Right now, you know, people are— so many people are suffering in all parts of the world in many ways. And so I think, I hope that the music is something that they can really easily access to. And as musicians, we can be just part of, little part of their small, maybe happiness, or maybe something that As a composer, you can even sort of hope that people will, as amateurs, play your music for the pleasure.

That used to be more the case in previous centuries, but it's still happening.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, it is still happening. Well, thank you. Well, this has been a really, really meaningful conversation, but also I've learned a lot. What a masterclass. And so thank you so much, Nimrod. So Before I let you go, two things to do. One is, uh, I would like to promote your works and also maybe any upcoming events you have or maybe production. So, uh, floor is yours. So take it away.

I mean, for, for my works in general, there are just so many, like you say, people can, uh, go on my website and just explore. They can click and listen to various things. But in terms of concerts, the one that my, uh, Immediate big thing that I'm doing is the one that I talked earlier. That's why I talked about it, because I was just in the middle of preparing it. Is this concert in London where I'm conducting the English Chamber Orchestra, and we are doing an incredible program. We are doing two Elgar, and I love Elgar. It's beautiful. And I'm doing these Shakespeare songs with a fantastic soprano, Sarah Fox, and we are doing that, and that's on the 9th of March. So if anyone is in London, but I know you are in America, so it's a long way. But who knows? I mean, it's the internet, so, right?

Oh wow, that's, that's exciting. Yes, so whoever— I was just in Paris.

I was conducting in Paris, uh, in December, and, uh, after that, I, uh, I mean, my works are played all the time, but not always with me. But if people want to meet me in person, That's, uh, and then I'm going to be in South America in, uh, uh, I think in August or something like that. And then things move all the time. So, right, right, right.

Hey, if you ever are in America, United States, or especially in New York area, please let me know. I, I would love to, yeah, uh, really see you in person, but also love to hear your music live. So, and then I think a lot of musicians should play your music more. So, yeah. Thank you. And I'm gonna buy your, what is it, the Shirim, and I'm gonna play, and Etuz too, but especially Shirim. I want to really try immediately. Yes. So, thank you. Of course. So this has been an incredibly fun and inspiring conversation, Nimrod. But before I let you go, We have one more thing to do, remember? Ah, yes, the Piano Pod rapid-fire questions. So, uh, let's start. So I will start with the easier questions, and then, uh, then it gets a little bit more advanced, as always in, in life. Yes. So I would— I want you to answer them as short as possible, and then you don't have to explain anything unless if you want to. All right. Alright, question number 1: What is your comfort food?

Oh, I love all food, so my comfort food is food. Food? Okay, yes.

I like to cook. Oh, you do? Really? What do you like to cook?

My wife is Italian, so I cook a lot of Italian food. I'm good in risotto. I do a mean risotto.

Wow, wow, that is amazing. Mm-hmm. Mushroom and all sorts of things. Oh. That sounds amazing. How do you like your coffee in the morning?

I make it myself. You know, the Italian things that have two sinks that you put— most of the time I grind it. And it's not only in the morning. My wife is Italian so we drink coffee all day long and it's just nonstop. Like on a drip. Okay, yes, that's true.

Black, no sugar, no milk. Oh wow. Sounds great. Are you a cat person or dog person?

Oh, I love cats. I'm obsessed with cats. I always— but I like dogs too. But cats are— there's an instrument for musicians, it's an animal for musicians because they are so beautiful and so impressive. They are incredible players and they are so— their gesture is exactly— it's just so fluid. It's—

wow, I never thought that way. That's beautifully said.

Do you have a cat or No, because I think it's not fair when you travel too much. Animals, they are intelligent. They suffer like human beings. You can't, I think it wouldn't be, but I got a visiting cat. He lives not far. He comes every day.

Really? Oh, that's cute. Oh, that's great. You love them. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wonderful.

Summer or winter? Winter in the mountain, summer in the sea.

Okay, sounds good. Now, level 2, it gets a little harder. What skill have you always wanted to learn but haven't had a chance to?

To a higher level, tennis. I play tennis, but if I had more time, I would have spent many more. I love tennis because it's like the solo instrument. I would have spent more time, but I play tennis. Okay, wow.

What is your word or words to live by? Oh, beauty. What is the most important quality you look for in other people? Kindness. Name 3 people who inspire you, living or dead.

This is hard. My dad, Beethoven— no, my dad— oh no, yes, Beethoven, Bach, Okay. Oh my God. I know 3 is hard.

I know. All right. Now level 3, 2 more questions to go. Name one piece in your current playlist.

Um, I don't have a playlist. Okay. So, so it's because I listen, I always listen to music in my head, looking at score. And, uh, at the moment, and you know, as a conductor, you conduct a lot of things. So it's the things that are— it's really sad, but it's my own music. It's okay. It's either my own music or Elgar's Serenade for Strings, because that's the next.

Okay. Sounds good. Last question. Fill in the blank. Music is blank. Indispensable. Wow, I have never heard that answer before. Beautiful. Thank you. Ding, ding. That's it. So you win. Yes. So this concludes this episode of The Piano Pod with a heartfelt thanks to you, you know, Nimrod, for joining us today and sharing your incredible stories, insights, and expertise. So to our wonderful audience, you can learn more about Nimrod and his work by visit his website at nimrod-borenstein.com and start listening to his wonderful piano solo and chamber orchestral works on all streaming services. And of course, thank you to our faithful fans and listeners for tuning in. If you enjoyed today's episode, please give it a thumbs up and subscribe to the YouTube channel. Don't forget to share and review this episode on your social media and tag The Piano Pod with It's one of the best ways to help us grow, and we'd love to hear your feedback. For the latest piano news and episodes, be sure to follow The Piano Pod on Substack, TikTok, and LinkedIn. I will see you for the next episode of The Piano Pod with Yukimi Song. Once again, Nimrod, thank you so much. Thank you very much. Thank you. Bye, everyone.