This document summarizes an interview with pianist Yuja Wang. Some key points: - Wang discusses how she was introduced to classical music through her parents and fell in love with Russian Romantic composers like Rachmaninoff at a young age. - She is currently focused on Russian Romantic works but wants to further explore composers like Beethoven and Mozart as she matures as a pianist. - Wang enjoys blending elements of rock music into her interpretations of works like Prokofiev and strives to capture the playfulness and exaggerated emotions in pieces like Stravinsky's Petrouchka. - She sees Chopin as the most perfect composer and his works directly express celestial emotions through their

1. volume5number3 listen:lifewithclassicalmusicfall2013
YUJA WANG
St. Petersburg’s
New House
A Russian
Short Story
Eight
Centuries
of Bach
Confessions
of a Chorister
Competition
as Community
Piano in Indianapolis
‘I Have That Blood’

2. Yuja Wang talks about rhythm, approach, avoiding
Beethoven and Mozart, Russians who don’t give back,
Rihanna, Petrouchka, Chopin and music as people.
By Ben Finane
‘I
Have
That
Blood’

3. 42 • fall 2013 listen: Life with classical music • 43
IanDouglas
Your father was a percussionist; your mother was a dancer.
How did you arrive at the piano?
The piano was their wedding gift, and it was kind of sitting
there at home. [Laughs.] And my mom actually wanted
me to be a dancer, but I’m not very flexible or disci-
plined — so I failed at that. But I loved music, so she would
bring me to the rehearsals of Swan Lake and other stuff. I
like music and the piano was like a toy — I would just play
around. My dad is quite… adamant about rhythms. So I
was always scared if he was around, but it was okay if my
mom was around.
‘Adamant about rhythms.’ He wanted you to get the correct
rhythms or he was telling you not to rush?
Oh he’s like a Nazi: rhythm-wise, note-wise, I have to
be super clean. He has a good ear. His other job is [that]
people give him tapes and he writes it all down as a score,
like transcriptions.
With Swan Lake as your introduction to classical music, did
that start a love of the Russian Romantics for you?
It must have. I don’t know if it’s the music or feelings
the music invokes. I was quite young. The Romantic
feelings…I remember I listened to it over and over again,
and then I had the Chopin Études by Pollini [(Deutsche
Grammophon)] and Chopin Nocturnes by Rubinstein
feeling about it — that we are part of something bigger
than us. That being said, they’re fun, and lots of presenters
always want those Russian pieces.
Each [Russian] composer is really different. Prokofiev
is so dark and so powerful and could be caustic and
acid, edgy. Rachmaninoff is just pure romance, or a little
jazzy — but not very sentimental. And Scriabin of course is
a completely different world.
Tell me about Scriabin’s sound world for you.
Scriabin went through a few stages. Last month I played
his Sonata No. 6, which was the beginning of when he
started losing himself. [Laughs.] I like the descriptions that
he used in his scores. All in French: ‘delirium,’ ‘ecstasy,’ or
‘concentrated, mysterious.’ It’s like, ‘What do you want?’
[Laughs.] You get the sense of losing one’s self. I’m sure
when he was writing this piece, he was losing himself into
[(RCA)] — so lots of Romantic stuff. And after that,
Furtwängler conducting Beethoven Symphonies [(EMI)].
I immersed myself in the music. I can’t describe what
exactly it was, I just wanted to listen to it over and over.
What music do you want to keep hearing?
Everything! For lots of music, I remember the first time
I heard it. I remember the place; I remember the smell; I
remember who I was with. It’s imbued in the brain and it’s
nice to bring that back.
You’ve recorded a lot of Rachmaninoff, and your recording
of the Second Piano Concerto [(Deutsche Grammophon)]
got my attention, because it seemed to breathe new
life into that piece. It’s a popular work that we’d call a
‘warhorse’ —
— like all the other Russians [laughs] —
It’s a warhorse because it’s embedded within the canon,
but we keep playing them because they’re so deep and
there are so many ways in.
Right. Those Russian pieces, they have a way of bringing
out all the emotions, longings, the nostalgic feelings in
us — so we feel really human, but at the same time it’s like
something larger-than-life, larger-than-human, something
we’re all connected to, like a collective maestoso glorious
this world and that’s why he never played it because he
was so scared to play the first chord. It’s like he himself is
being sucked into the color and the tones of the world he’s
creating.
He had a messiah complex that eventually, as you say,
infected his music.
Right. I think it’s a sense of abandoning one’s self. Actually
we do that all the time as musicians, or as any performing-
arts performer. When you abandon yourself, you do feel
like you’re a messiah! [Laughs.] You do feel like you’re
connected to a higher being. I guess that’s what happens,
but I can’t see colors. [Laughs.]
So you don’t have a Messiaen problem [synaesthesia].
No.
‘Those Russian pieces, they have a way of bringing out all the emotions, longings,
the nostalgic feelings in us — so we feel really human, but the same time it’s like
something larger than life, larger-than human, something we’re all connected to . . . . ’
B
orn in Beijing, Yuja Wang began playing piano at age six and went on to study at
Beijing’s Central Conservatory of Music, Calgary’s Mount Royal University and
Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute of Music. She is now based in New York City. Wang
has risen to prominence on Russian Romanticism and is a regular in recital and as a soloist at
America’s — and the world’s — great halls. The pianist’s forthcoming release is the Prokofiev
Second and Rachmaninoff Third Piano Concertos (Deutsche Grammophon), recorded live in
Venezuela with Gustavo Dudamel and the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra. Wang, a Steinway
artist, spoke to Listen at Steinway Hall. Afterward, shooting B-roll for the video of the
interview (catch it on our facebook page, Listen: Life with Classical Music), Wang effortlessly
blitzed and blazed through forty minutes of solo and concerto repertoire in the Henry Z. Office,
stream-of-consciousness style. “I think it was this one,” she said, landing briefly on Chopin’s
Prelude in E minor, Op. 28, No. 4, “that really got me.”

4. listen: Life with classical music • 4544 • fall 2013
Let’s get back to the forthcoming recording with Gustavo
Dudamel and the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra.
I’ve never really liked the recording process, so I asked
for a live concert — and the project happened fast. The
live concert happened in Venezuela: Prokofiev Second
and Rachmaninoff Three. So the week before in Paris, I
was trying to work out and knew I had to be fit. When
I arrived, things were chaotic. But once the music
started, it was satisfying. So much passion, blood and
energy. And the reflexes [of the orchestra] — if I say
one thing, they will, right away, do a hundred and fifty
percent more, fifty percent better than I thought they
could sound. That was such an inspiration for me. I
play those two concertos quite a lot, so that extra jolt of
excitement — and unexpectedness — drove the concert.
The piano wasn’t great, but I had an amazing orchestra
and it’s their first recording with a soloist so I was quite
honored. And I did the Prokofiev Toccata as a bonus
track; on the recording, it sounded like I was really on
something. [Laughs.]
You say you wanted to be fit for the program. Does that
mean pianistically fit or in shape?
I usually don’t care about physical fitness for a
concert, but with those two concertos together, I do.
It doubled everything. Plus, being recorded, you’re
under a microscope: you hear everything. Mentally
I have to be extremely alert and emotionally very
heightened — almost exaggerated — to elevate myself to
that state.
Do you still listen to Rihanna before you play?
[Laughs.] Yeah, I listen before — and after, to calm myself
down. I love her voice.
those Russian pieces more thoroughly. It’s so passionate,
so hot — I have that blood — especially when I played with
Dudamel in the recording.
And those philosophical and psychological pieces need
to undergo a long-term thought process. And those
pieces I do want to save for later. And if I don’t get it
later, then I’m — [laughs] — screwed. It’s actually a big
risk to take.
So right now you’re sitting in Russian Romanticism.
Well, next recital I’m playing lots of Chopin. With the
Russians, I know at least that there are always exciting ele-
ments in the performance, and it is, in a way, easier to be
in that state of mind. It’s like going to a rock concert versus
going to a lecture. [Laughs.] You’ll probably get more from
the lecture and learn more, and have more growth and
self-realization — I think that’s what I’m looking forward
to with Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart, Bach. I probably
will understand myself more. Whereas with the Russians,
you’re putting out a lot of emotion, but I’m not sure how
much you get back. So I can’t play them all the time.
Do you approach a composer always with the same priori-
ties, or are there certain things for each composer that you
want to bring out?
I think I go through the same procedure, which is really
reading the score very carefully, especially Brahms.
Post–Brahms, I’m trying really hard to read the notes first.
[Laughs.] No, I don’t think the approach changes — for me,
at least. There are some pieces I feel I just learn by osmosis.
And there are some, like late Brahms, that take such a long
time. I know the notes, I can play the notes, but it feels like
there’s a long, unconscious process that takes years — to
digest and become that music so I can understand it. And
when I understand it, I feel comfortable. I feel like I’m
speaking the language. And that happens slower. And
I think that’s part of the reason why I’m holding off on
playing Beethoven or Mozart.
Why is that? Do you feel you’re not prepared to play
Beethoven and Mozart specifically?
I’m just giving myself time because I’m only — I do feel a
little older — but I am twenty-six and I do [want to] play
NohelyOliveros/DeutscheGrammophon,WesOrshoski
Who else — outside of classical music — do you listen to?
I like Keith Jarrett. And if I really want to wake up I listen
to five minutes of Art Tatum, because he’s so fast. I like
Radiohead. I like The Black Eyed Peas. And this French
singer, Zaz, I really like her voice. And Sting.
A lot of classical musicians see classical music at the top
of the pyramid — and then everything else. I don’t get the
impression you’re that way.
No. [Laughs.] Other music really excites me as well.
Sometimes when I play Prokofiev, I try to extract the
groove or beats from other rock music. There’s always a
different approach — there’s not just one way to approach
any music. That’s why it’s never boring to play the same
piece over and over, because you see it from different
angles. That said, I still haven’t seen one angle for
Beethoven yet. [Laughs.]
You’re still looking for a way in to Beethoven. What’s
making him tough?
I played him a lot when I was in China and then
steered myself toward Russian music once I came here.
Beethoven really takes maturity and involves lots of read-
ing, lots of thinking. For me, Beethoven is a philosopher.
His way of life is so different from mine — traveling
around, hanging out with friends, partying. I think
to play his music maybe needs solitude, maybe not a
thousand years of solitude but it needs that kind of time.
It’s like a good bottle of wine. Being by one’s self, quiet…
maybe I’ll do that this summer. [Laughs.]
You had a great performance of Stravinsky’s Petrouchka
on your Transformations album [Deutsche Grammophon]
Here, there and everywhere. Yuja Wang performing Prokofiev and
Rachmaninoff in Venezuela with Gustavo Dudamel (left), four-hands
in New York’s Steinway Hall with the Editor (below) and at Carnegie
Hall (previous spread).

5. listen: Life with classical music • 4746 • fall 2013
firstnamelast
©NohelyOliveros/DG
that seemed to really capture his playfulness. When I say
Stravinsky, what does that conjure up for you?
Stravinsky is like a different man in every decade. Maybe
I’m shallow, but I still like his Firebird, Petrouchka, and of
course The Rite of Spring. Every time I hear that piece, it’s
amazing to think of it being played a hundred years ago,
what genius that was. Petrouchka is the only piece actually
written by the composer for solo piano. And I really
identified with the Petrouchka character. Of course I saw
the original ballet version. It’s really fun, this mechanical
person with exaggerated emotions — and the movements
are exaggerated as well, theatrical. So it wasn’t difficult to
be Petrouchka myself. And it’s ballet music, so it’s easier
for me. Whenever I see gestures or movements, it’s easier
for me to imitate or to use my imagination. Petrouchka is
actually on my upcoming program at Carnegie, though
the majority is Chopin.
Chopin is an elegant craftsman.
Chopin for me is really special. The first piece I played
publicly was a Chopin waltz — which I still play
everywhere, the C-sharp minor [Op. 64, No. 2]. The first
piano music I fell in love with was the Chopin preludes
and études. His music is just directly from… it’s celestial.
It’s just so perfect. Every piece is perfect. His mazurkas,
Polonaises — so nationalist yet universal. And very innova-
tive: his Second Piano Sonata, which I recorded on my
first CD [Sonatas Etudes, Deutsche Grammophon] — it’s
really dark, every movement is like the four corners of
the world and at the end, these leaves, circling around on
the grave. So it’s an ominous feeling toward death — fear-
ful, fragile but vulnerable, and at the same time really
aristocratic, noble and so poetic.
When I was twelve, I played the Scherzo, No. 4, for Fou
Ts’ong [winner of the Mazurka Prize at the 1955 Interna-
tional Chopin Piano Competition] — this cultural giant
in China, he knows all this literature and poetry [that] is
the essence of Chinese culture. So I played the Scherzo for
him and he just said: “Chopin’s soul is completely Chinese.”
[Laughs.]
I wrote the program notes for your May recital at Carn-
egie — and the program changed a lot before we got to the
final one.
[Laughs.]
That tells me that you put a lot of thought into what’s on
your recital programs.
— Or that I didn’t put a lot of thought….[Laughs.]
Well, when you’re creating a recital program how do you
determine the right balance?
It’s actually quite excruciating because you’re kind of
like a director — for a movie, an opera, whatever — and
you want to tell a story. You want to bring people on a
journey. At the same time, there’s a balance between what
actually interests me and what would be interesting for
the audience. Of course, the Russians are so exciting and
so emotional and so nice to listen to, but I’ve been doing
that for a while. And there’s also a balance between quality
and curiosity. There are pieces that I am very curious as to
how they will sound in concert. Even pieces that people
will know: the Brahms Handel Variations, the Beethoven
“Hammerklavier.” But for me, they’re completely new.
Everything is a new creation when you bring it on stage for
the first time. And I’m always a nervous wreck. [Laughs.]
No matter how much you prepare. Of course, pieces
I’ve played for a long time and even recorded — like the
Scriabin or the Petrouchka — I know the quality will be
up there, because it is a metamorphosis, a transition I
underwent. The music is in my blood. And that process
takes longer for pieces that I’m curious about — but the
concert schedule doesn’t allow me to actually do that. But
I like performing. It’s like living in a different state of being
when I’m onstage. I have to keep doing that to feel alive.
So that’s a very big dilemma and that’s part of the reason
why I’m always changing the program.
You want to keep it fresh?
That and also once I learn a piece… There are pieces I want
to know but it’s like people: once you know them like that,
maybe not. Maybe not friends. And there are pieces you
don’t know, and it’s mysterious. The more you know, the
more you want to know. And you want others to know;
you want to share. It’s like books; it’s like people. It’s always
a matter of curiosity — and satisfying that curiosity.
Watch the complete Yuja Wang interview on facebook at
Listen: Life with Classical Music.
‘There are pieces I want to know but it’s like people:
once you know them like that, maybe not. Maybe not friends.’
% Watch the complete Yuja Wang interview at
www.ListenMusicMag.com