Hyung-ki Joo, Part I

Hyung-ki Joo is a man of many talents: he is a connoisseur of tradition and a discoverer of new paths, a cook and gourmet, an ambassador of music and inspiration, and an enthusiastic designer of luck. I talk to him about the private Hyung-ki Joo, the pianist, composer and non-conformist, the comedian, the teacher and the perpetual learner with an honorary doctorate...

Read the first part of our fascinating conversation here!

Mr. Joo, do you believe in coincidences?

Wow…actually not.

Why not?

I think I know what most people generally mean by “coincidence.” And with many, I think it also depends on what belief system you have. All of us, I’m pretty sure, have had the experience where we’re thinking of a friend we haven’t seen in five years, and then, one second later, that person calls. And then one usually says, “Oh my God, what a coincidence.” But if you see the world from a different perspective, you don’t see that as a coincidence. You see that as “just the way things are.” [laughs]
I know that this sounds crazy to many, but people have the need to rationalize things. They need to have either a religious belief system or they need to call it “luck” or “coincidence.” But the older I get and the more I see how these “coincidences” happen, I realize that they are not coincidences. In fact, they are made by design.

When a lot of people read this, they will obviously think, “Okay, this guy is cuckoo.” But I do believe it’s because you have either willed this coincidence, or the universe conjured it up for you, but you designed it. You wanted it. You attracted it. You dreamt about it. Your subconsciousness asked for it. It’s a manifestation. It’s easier for one to say, “Oh, it’s just a complete coincidence.”
But I believe you’re meant to meet the people you are meant to meet, and you’re meant to miss the buses you are supposed to miss.

But if you can somehow design your own luck, your own path - why do things happen that I would never wish for?

I think sometimes the best things that happen to you are the things you most wanted not to happen. And when that happens, your world feels like it’s falling apart.

Is there perhaps an example from your own life where such crazy things happened without forethought and literally pulled the rug out from under your feet - and which only later turned out to be an important "switch"?

One example from my own life would be when I lost my mother at 19 years old. Of course, it goes without saying that I wish she were still alive today. I’ve missed her every single day since. On the other hand, I do believe that her death opened up an entirely different path for me – a path that might not have existed otherwise, or at least not in the same way. It’s possible it would have still happened, but the journey there would have been much longer.

Without going into too many details, I honestly think that her passing allowed me to slow down, to fall in love, and to meet people who would become some of the most significant friendships in my life – and some of the most important business and creative relationships as well.

After my mother died, I came to Vienna for two years. Those two years were two of the darkest of my life, but they were also among the best. They were filled with so much, during a time when I had no sense of direction, no sense of gravity. I had to learn what it meant to lose a mother. At 19, you feel like you’re on a jet-powered train, believing you’re destined to follow a certain path—graduate from a conservatory, win a big piano competition, and so on.

What have you learnt from this very existential experience?

It’s like a meteor hitting your earth. But then, you have to adapt. You have to move on. And death is part of life, anyway. But we’re not prepared for it. The life cycle is from birth to death, yet Western culture looks down on death. We don’t talk about it. We don’t teach about it. It’s a taboo subject.

But it’s the fact that we’re mortal that makes life so special and extraordinary. I’m convinced that if we knew we had 400 years left to live – or if we knew we would never die – life would lose its essence. I don’t think it would be fun. You go to a casino and hope to win, but if you knew you were going to win, what’s the point? It kind of defeats the purpose. The thrill of life, the magic of life, the beauty of life, is that it has a finite end.

How is death connected with music? In other words: could music be a tool to talk about death and the meaning of the end, the mortality, of all organic life? When you talked about death as the great taboo, I immediately felt that I’m mostly touched by music when I realize how fragile music is. When I can feel the direct relation and similarity from music and life. Then I realize, how fragile the thoughts of a composer are. How delicate the timing is, as well as and the perfect relation of tempo, rhythm, volume and sound. And, of course, sometimes even the right notes are not a disadvantage. You always can slip and fail. Everything is very fragile and there is no second chance for the perfect moment…

…and it’s the same with life.

Can we say then, that music happens just once, in the present time, and everything that comes after is perhaps out of sight and out of control? It’s not possible to “photocopy” the playing of the last concert by doing perfectly the same next time, am I right?

I think people try to do that. They try to clone and reproduce the concert from yesterday or the practice sessions from the days before. I’d say the general music education system is way too goal- and result-oriented, and those goals need to be seriously reexamined, refreshed, and revitalized.

People who think about making music their job or profession often come out of conservatory training unequipped to deal with life as a musician. They might be able to play a Paganini Caprice perfectly—absolutely flawless and amazingly fast at two o'clock in the morning. But that doesn’t mean they’re equipped for life.

 …and what for?

Yeah, and what for!

 …I would prefer sleeping! [laughs] Really! I mean, what is the goal, what is the sense behind it?

I think one of the main issues is that musicians aren't taught – or aren’t given the chance – to experience the real power of music. People believe that playing in Carnegie Hall or recording an album for Deutsche Grammophon is the greatest achievement or the ultimate goal. But in those places, you don’t really experience the true power and impact of music.

I believe that every musician, from the earliest age possible, needs to play in nursing homes, hospitals, for handicapped children, for prisoners, for people in palliative care. It’s there that they’ll feel the real impact of how music touches people and how it can transform someone's existence.

Have you had an experience like that?

I played a concert for a school for deaf children when I was about eleven years old. Back then, I had very little concert experience. When someone told me we were going to play at a deaf school, I remember thinking, "What’s the point? They won’t be able to hear." But as soon as I started playing, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, half of the audience ran onto the stage. One or two of the children sat right next to me, some dove under the piano, and others stuck their heads inside the instrument. Some were dancing around the stage. A lot of the children were making sounds themselves, like humming. I was extremely confused at the time.

But that event turned out to be one of the most pivotal moments in my journey as a musician. Because after a while, I understood what had happened – I had witnessed the real power of music. I know it might sound like a cliché to talk about the “power of music,” but you only understand it’s not a cliché when you’ve played for children who are deaf or hard of hearing, who cannot communicate the way you and I are communicating now. You are playing Bach – or whatever – and suddenly, these kids are alive!

Your story about the deaf children is very touching. I always say that the world is so out of balance today because people have stopped listening – we, the ones who can hear- are slowly going deaf. Could the power of music - as in your beautiful story - heal the world?

Once that joy of music has entered your DNA, you're never the same. I really wish that every politician in government had music lessons when they were kids. Because I truly believe there’d be less chance of them becoming ignorant and out of touch with the essence of life once they’re in power. I’ve often thought that if soldiers played Brazilian Bossa Nova before going out to fight, no one would go! I can’t imagine how anyone could bring themselves to kill each other after listening to Brazilian Samba.

Is there any kind of luck that you did not expect or design and that was practically sent to you "from the outside"?

As I said, a lot of lucky things happened to me. YouTube certainly played a big part in that. Back then, we had no idea what YouTube was. Somebody suggested, “Why don’t you put some clips on YouTube?” So, in December 2006, we uploaded two videos, and within weeks, they went viral. Then we posted a few more, and suddenly, everyone was sharing them.

We found ourselves in a very strange situation. Random people, not just musicians, started recognizing us at airports, in shops – coming up to us and saying, “Hey, you’re those musicians on YouTube!” It was surreal. We had this feeling that we were successful, but the truth was, we didn’t actually have a career yet.

…Hold on a second: “…we were successful, but we actually had no career”?

We had no concerts! It was the start of the internet phenomenon, but we were there from the early days – the first classical musicians to go viral. Today you can make a good living with being successful on the internet. But I’m probably too old and it’s too late for that.

But you made it: just in time! What advice would you give to young musicians who are just starting out in their careers?

A friend of mine always liked to say, "Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it." I never really understood that as a young adult. You need to have a very clear idea of what you wish for and how you plan to get there. That plan has to be well thought out. But then, you also need to be able to let go and be totally flexible. At any given moment, you have to be ready to throw out your carefully designed plan and shift to, as you’d say, a new "Plan A."

…That’s luck. Real luck [laughter]…You must have received a lot of well-intentioned advice yourself, right?

Of course! But one thing I learned: Never listen to the noise. People love to give you noise. They say all kinds of things. And often because they want to please you or look good themselves. They say nice things, offer you promises. You have to listen to those with very small ears. In my own life, I would say that from all the people who have said to me “Oh my god, you’re so fantastic, we have to do this, we have to do that” – almost none of them have delivered their promises.

As a reminder, we first worked together in 2001 for the recording of “Fantasies & Delusions” in the Mozart Hall of the Vienna Konzerthaus. The pieces were composed by Billy Joel, the producer was Steven Epstein. The standard of your interpretation, the quality of the recording and of the grand piano was in no way inferior to that of a Brendel recording. My last sentence alone will now probably cause indignation among classical music purists - and shaking of heads when I mention that your CD reached number 1 in the Billboard Classical Album Charts at that time and remained in the charts for a total of 60 weeks.

Is the classical music business too elitist to achieve the really big successes?

Well, I don’t know if it’s really too elitist to achieve the big successes, but for sure, the fact that the classical music world loves to be elitist is the biggest poison it can inflict on itself. When I say the “classical music world,” I mean everyone involved in the classical music scene. I wouldn’t exempt a single person from this. And when I say “person,” I don’t mean individuals – there are, of course, many wonderful individuals – but what I’m referring to is literally every part that makes up the whole of the classical music world: the intendant, the promoter, the orchestra director, the music critic, the conservatory, the student, the teacher, the performer, the piano technician, the violin dealer, the audience, the radio announcer, the graphic designers of posters and program booklets, the documentary makers… they’re all responsible for turning classical music into an elitist, endangered species.

Everybody involved in the classical music world thrives in this elitism. They’ll scorn me for saying this, but I’d love to question their motives. Because I don’t believe they’re doing their job for the love of music. I just don’t feel it. An elitist cannot be doing something for the love of it. By definition, elitists are alienating 99% of the classical music world.

We think we’re so important—because we play Beethoven, because we play Bach, because we went to Juilliard, because we’re the intendant of a prominent music hall, because we’re the chief critic at The New York Times. We think that makes us special people. But it absolutely doesn’t. It doesn’t make us special at all. I think the classical music world is shooting itself in the foot. And we’re now facing concert halls that aren’t full. That’s very clear to see. One of the main reasons for this is that, collectively, we live in this bubble of elitism, thinking we’re better than the rest. Even as musicians, we think we’re better than other musicians. We think we’re superior to jazz musicians, to rock musicians, to heavy metal musicians, to rap musicians.

We discriminate and elevate ourselves. So how can we expect people to love us? We create this aura of untouchability. If you dress up classical music in a way that makes it resemble a funeral or some elitist ritual ceremony, of course a 14-year-old isn’t going to want to step inside a concert hall.

Can you still remember what it was like when you were young and entered this world of elites?

When I was 13, 14 years old, I used to go to concerts and I felt like I was the person who loves classical music most in the world. I still feel like that today. But when I was sitting in the concert, I felt like I wanted to leave. There was a disconnect between this incredible music that was written by a great genius, music full of passion and joy, full of emotions. And the atmosphere in the hall from performer to audience was one of such snobbish, funeral-like ceremony, that I could not have an access to this joy of the experience of music. And I thought, I want to leave. But what does it mean, if I’m the one who loves classical music more than anybody else in the world, and I want to leave?...

…so, what does it mean?

Houston, we have a problem!

When classical music is used in movies or video games, you see that the general audience are loving classical music. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that we need to dumb it down or turn down the quality. On the contrary, the quality has to be always on the highest possible level that you can do. I believe, that even audience members who are unfamiliar with classical music, subconsciously feel if they are been fed with high quality or not. They might not be able to put their finger on it, explain why. But I think we all feel, if someone is lying to us a little bit, or is giving something a little bit cheaper to us. So quality is very important. First of all, the core has to be made with quality. Just adding spices to a soup is not the solution to making a tasty soup. But then, you don’t have to serve the soup with white gloves. We have to get away from the white gloves.

Can you explain why music is divided into "U" and "E" music?

Well, in the German language, that’s a distinction that’s made between “U” for entertainment music – Unterhaltungsmusik and “E” for serious music –ernste Musik. As a duo Igudesman & Joo, we always made the joke in the German language that “U” stands for “Unterhaltung” and “E” for “Entertainment” [laughs]

I personally think this segregation is harmful and nonsensical for music. I think there is so much categorization and classification and black and white in this world – and to do it with music is just such a shame. Mozart wrote a requiem and scatological canons, one is in Latin about death, the other one about “Poop”. But when he was writing about “poop”, he was not a worse composer. He was the same Mozart. And he wrote those canons with the same attitude and quality of the genius that he was. He did not say “now I will write a song about poop” so I will diminish my quality, because this is now entertainment music for the low masses”.

Is the "classical music business" still contemporary at all?

I think some parts of the classical music business are trying to be with the times. I cannot speak with total expertise. All I can say is that is my general feeling from what I have seen. I still feel that the yearly program of most concert halls is kind of a “copy paste” situation. You could just remove the cover of one season brochure and put it on another, and it would basically be the same. It is pretty much the same artists; No institution is ready to encourage young artists, take risks on artists that maybe are not Anne-Sophie Mutter, but have something interesting to say. And the programs are basically the same as well.

But why is that?

I think, partly it’s a lack of imagination, a lack of curiosity and lack of knowledge from the performers themselves. But on the other hand, to be fair to them, it’s also a lack of imagination and daring from the programmers. They usually have the power to decide. And is a well-known fact, that a lot of orchestras, promoters or concert halls, even if they like a certain artist, will not allow whomever to play a concerto, which is not considered a successful concerto. And even if a promoter wants to do it, then the next argument is: “our audience will not come”. But you have to educate your audience, you have to give them a chance. Even in our small elitist niche, we can’t just be playing the same pieces all the time. 

For many years you and your colleague Aleksey Igudesman have been working with many world stars from both pop and classical music and Hollywood personalities in your shows. Am I mistaken or is my feeling correct that you both are the catalysts that many classical musicians have been waiting for, so that they can finally appear young and dynamic, relaxed and liberated on stage?

[laughs] I think, a lot of the reason, why a lot of these so called “serious classical artists” joined us for sketches is, because ultimately, we are all children inside. We lost the connection to our childlike selves. At some point, we became adults. We take ourselves too seriously. But there is still a child within us. And what we did, when we worked with symphony orchestras or artists like Emanuel Ax or Gidon Kremer, is we gave them permission to be childlike, take risks, and have fun like children do.

What makes working with an orchestra special for you?

What’s interesting when we work with orchestras is that they operate within a certain grid, a certain timeline. They have their music stands, their conductor, and so much of it is about “taking orders.” They’re not really treated as individual human beings. This is something I don’t like. There’s actually a lot of disrespect for orchestra musicians. Maybe the name of the orchestra carries a certain respect and pedigree, but the musicians themselves, not so much. And I think that’s a real shame. Because when you overlook that, you miss the chance to see these people as individuals. And they are individuals—each one has a name, a story, emotions. They come together and find a way to work as a collective. And they should be celebrated.

If you travel on to a "serious" performance the following evening after your show – do you also transform into a "normal" classical pianist in your inner attitude?

I don’t change my attitude! And that’s the analogy to what I said earlier about Mozart, writing different kinds of pieces. In order to convey the message of the composer, you have to get the timing right, you have to get the right feeling of breath. So, if it’s funny, it has to be punctuated and delivered with a certain timing, so the audience can receive the joke and have time to respond. And if the music is reflective or painful, you have to be totally immersed in it. But the level of commitment and the level of precision in the intention is the same.

If I am playing the James Bond theme, I will play it with the same serious approach as I will play Beethoven op. 111 – the harmonic tensions, dissonances, suspensions, creations of surprise are the same!

How much lightness of “Hyung-ki Joo, the comedian” remains unchanged on stage during a Ravel piano concerto?

I think there should be a lot of lightness in everything. If something is too heavy, it’s really hard to take in and even harder to digest. When you listen to the Dalai Lama speak about deep, spiritual, and powerful topics – he does it with a smile.

Bernstein, in some of his most serious lectures – talking about things like death, destruction, and so on – always did it with a certain lightness. You knew that at any moment, he could smile or make a joke. There was warmth in everything he said. I don’t think it’s about comedy versus drama. It’s about whether there’s warmth, kindness and joy behind the message you want to share. That’s the key. Joy and kindness carry light. Light as the opposite of darkness, and also the opposite of heaviness. We receive love and messages much more easily with lightness than with darkness and heaviness.

What do you think is the reason why composers of classical music are often portrayed as heavy and out of touch with life? If we only think of Haydn and Mozart - they must have been hilarious! Did they perhaps just have a different kind of humor that we no longer recognize today?

I’m pretty sure it’s our misguided interpretation. There have always been pranksters in the world of classical music, and there are still plenty in the world of contemporary music today. People play all kinds of jokes on each other. It all comes down to this image thing again—this idea that music has to be serious, otherwise, it can’t be taken seriously. I think that’s why composers are often portrayed as being dramatic and serious.

I remember visiting Ravel’s house – I’ll never forget it. He suffered from insomnia, so he often had to sleep during the day. To block out the sunlight, he built shutters for the windows. But because he was such a dreamer, such a fantasist, he carved little stars into the wood of the shutters to create the illusion of a starry night.

End of Part I