Mirrors

Pianist sensation George Fu combines phenomenal technique with a profound sense of interpretative clarity. Little wonder that he chose to base his debut release on music by the composer he considers “the perfect synthesis of technique and expression”: Maurice Ravel. The album’s springboard is Ravel’s 1905 piano suite *Miroirs* (“Mirrors”), a groundbreaking collection that reflects and distorts our musical perceptions as well as our sense of time. “With most composers,” Fu tells Apple Music, “you can sense the fingers moving in their piano music, but with Ravel it’s almost as if the mechanism has been suspended—nothing comes between you and his imagination. *Miroirs* lays the stylistic ground plan for the remainder of Ravel’s output. From the opening measures of the very first piece, ‘Noctuelles’ (‘Moths’), you enter a magical world in which everything is constantly shifting and there’s no perceivable tonal center. I’m always drawn towards music that is trying to push the envelope, and I’ve never forgotten something that \[the pianist\] Leon Fleisher taught me: ‘You should play old music like it’s new, and new music like it’s old,’ which perfectly encapsulates how I view this piece.” To complement *Miroirs*, Fu has selected six pieces by other composers that were influenced by its unique soundworld. “I had quite a debate with myself whether to intersperse the other pieces with Ravel’s original—after all, it is so perfectly formed—but in the end, I felt that highlighting Ravel’s powerful influence was such an illuminating experience, it would be cool to share it with others. As this is my first recording, I wanted to give listeners a flavor of hearing the music performed live. Working in the studio allows you to take risks, so I was able to go for each take with a real sense of being in the moment.” Read on, as George Fu takes us through each track on *Mirrors*. ***Miroirs: I. Noctuelles* (Ravel)** “Each of the *Miroirs* is dedicated to a different member of the ‘Apaches’ or ‘Hooligans,’ an early 20th-century group of cutting-edge artistic personalities. And for this piece, I focused on the dedicatee, Léon-Paul Fargue, who was a known raconteur and witty storyteller. The Apaches’ gatherings often ran into the small hours, so I tried to combine a sense of those amazing personalities gathering under the moonlight, with the moths darting around them, attracted by its brightness. It’s the musical gateway to the suite and conveys a sense of fleetingness and of every moment being precious.” ***Miroirs: II. Oiseaux tristes* (Ravel)** “This piece is, of course, about ‘sad birds,’ but I also sought to convey the sense of someone being overwhelmed with a sense of melancholy as they observe the birds in flight. After all, the bird motif is not essentially mournful in itself, but rather conveys a sense of wings fluttering. It’s actually a very human piece about birdsong. On the one hand, there is a sense of observing these amazing creatures, which are outwardly so exotically beautiful, and yet one inwardly experiences such profound emotional depth and soulfulness.” ***Three Preludes for Piano: III. Le jeu des contraires* (Dutilleux)** “In many ways, this is a perfect abstract piece because it is constructed from a small amount of material. It’s a study in atmosphere: Dutilleux seems to just pluck ideas out of the air and then flip them in mirrorlike combinations, creating soundworlds that begin where Ravel leaves off. Whatever the right hand plays, the left hand reflects, and yet you are never aware of this structural conceit. The music seems to question the nature of sound and what it does to our minds, and therefore pairs ideally with ‘Oiseaux tristes.’” ***Bad Habit* (Freya Waley-Cohen)** “Freya is my wife, so my playing has a special affection that is not purely musical. We met at Tanglewood, and we bonded over our love of Messiaen and French music in general. Freya wrote this piece in response to *Miroirs* just after lockdown and enshrines the idea that we all like to feel our life has a predictable direction, yet in reality, it is constantly being knocked off course. I love the idea of continual interruption becoming a narrative device.” ***Clear and Cold* (Timo Andres)** “My thinking here was that *Clear and Cold* and the following ‘Toccata’ are in themselves reflections \[respectively\] of Ravel’s ‘Une barque’ and the ‘Alborada.’ Timo wrote a very short foreword in the published edition of *Clear and Cold*, explaining that it is both a fantasia on February in New England and ‘Une barque.’ It has a tremendous feeling for musical architecture and a palpable sense of coldness—of ice cracking underfoot, of the freezing wind blowing, and those flat, icy surfaces that you get during winters in New England.” ***Etude No. 5 “Toccata”* (Unsuk Chin)** “This is a firecracker of a piece. When you first look at the score, it seems almost impossible to play. Yet this is merely the beginning because the ‘Toccata’ is really about wit, about the jester, like firecrackers going off, creating sudden sparks of light. At the end, it scurries away as though the jester is saying, ‘Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I’ve done that.’ The music just disappears in a puff of smoke. There’s a kind of nervous energy here and also a strange, beautiful ugliness, which Unsuk inherited from her teacher Ligeti.” ***Miroirs: III. Une barque sur l’océan* (Ravel)** “In some ways, this piece is so exquisitely perfect in its writing and expression, it almost doesn’t need explanation. Technically, there are certain similarities with Ravel’s earlier *Jeux d’eau*—literally ‘Water Games’—and yet ‘Une barque’ is so much more than that. I wanted to convey a sense of loneliness here, of a small craft surrounded by the vast expanse of the ocean, over which you have absolutely no control. You literally have no choice but to ride it out and go with the flow—a dichotomy that Ravel’s music captures sublimely.” ***Miroirs: IV. Alborada del gracioso* (Ravel)** “Beneath all the extravert brilliance of Ravel’s writing, there is a sense of something rather grotesque going on here. Something’s not quite right with the jester. You feel this particularly in the middle section, where Ravel seems to draw on his own experiences in the Basque region, where he grew up. It is difficult not to be carried away by Ravel’s mastery of technique, harmonic language, and texture, yet the jester ultimately seems a lonely guy whose only way of coping is to leap around, tell jokes, and make a great fool of himself.” ***Pastorale* (Tailleferre)** “This is a little gem. Tailleferre was the female member of the composing group Les Six, and she has a particular style all her own. At this point in the album, I wanted to bring the emotional temperature down after so much intense activity, so this is in many ways the ultimate palate cleanser after ‘Alborada.’ It’s a subliminal space of some sort—that’s why she calls it a Pastorale. You get the sense of something verdant, lush, green, and yet not quite real. It’s a portal to something else and, therefore, absolutely perfect to come before ‘vallée des cloches.’” ***Miroirs: V. La vallée des cloches* (Ravel)** “This is the most elusive piece on the album. Everything is laid out for you, and there is no mistaking the composer’s intentions, so, in a sense, it is best to try and allow the music to speak for itself. The effect I wanted to create was of the bells gently seducing the listener. You have to fade yourself out of the experience, so that you don’t interfere with the music’s inner voice. There is regret here—a sense of acceptance but also pain. I find it incredibly therapeutic to play, and it never fails to move me in a very special way.” ***13 Preludes, Op. 32: No. 5 in G Major* (Rachmaninoff)** “There is more of a connection between Rachmaninoff and Ravel than many people are prepared to admit. When Rachmaninoff distills his style to its essence, as he does in this *Prelude*, it is amazing just how close the two become. It provides a wonderful sense of closure to finish the album on. We’ve gone through everything from happiness to intense sadness, and now we have a perfect end to our journey. It’s a way of bringing us back to the here and now and is one of the most beautiful pieces I know.”