Kolja Lessing in conversation with Krzysztof Meyer

KL: Dear Krzysztof, your extensive oeuvre encompasses a wide array of musical genres, yet it is evident that you hold a strong affinity for chamber music with strings, which began at an early age. What are the roots of your lifelong creative fascination with the strings?

KM: Music-making held a cherished place in my family, thanks to my grandmother who graciously hosted intimate house concerts. It was during those formative years that chamber music left an indelible mark on me, igniting a profound fascination with this realm of sound. As far back as I can remember, my grandmother's circle of friends was made up exclusively of string players. Perhaps this is why, despite being a pianist, I developed an early affinity for string instruments.

KL: As a pianist, were there early opportunities for you to collaborate with string players and musicians? What inspiration or experiences have you derived from your extensive involvement in chamber music, and how have they shaped your approach to composition?

KM: During my time in elementary school, I formed a friendship with a fellow student who was a talented violinist. I composed pieces for violin and piano for him, and together we performed these works, occasionally even in public. Later, when I was studying at the Music Academy in Krakow, I started an ensemble with my friends adopting a flexible lineup. I vividly recall the dedication and passion we poured into rehearsing trios by Beethoven and Brahms, as well as Brahms's piano quintet. Though we never performed in public, we took great pleasure in coming together for rehearsals and working through the pieces. During this period, a cello professor played a significant role in my musical development. He approached me with a request to compose pieces for his class. So, I wrote compositions for various combinations, including two cellos and piano, three cellos, timpani and piano, clarinet and four cellos and five cellos. These pieces were performed by students on several occasions.

KL: This CD compilation represents a remarkable collection of works from a period spanning over 40 years, offering a captivating portrayal of the evolution of your musical language up to the present day. The chronological journey begins with your First Sonata for solo violin op. 36, composed in 1975. What inspired you to compose this piece? Did you seek guidance from a violinist? Who gave the first performance?

KM: Jadwiga Kaliszewska, a renowned violinist and professor in Poland, who had performed my Violin Concerto No.1 a few years earlier, played it for the first time at the "Poznań Music Spring" festival. But I wrote it without a commission. I saw it as an opportunity to explore the possibilities of violin playing. While composing, I regularly sought the advice of the second violinist of the Wilanów Quartet, who offered many valuable comments and suggestions.

KL: You once spoke of your early deep immersion in Bartók's Sonata for solo violin (1944) – a seminal work that ventures into unchartered tonal realms while still drawing inspiration, like countless solo violin compositions since Reger, from Bach's cycle of the Sei Solo, BWV 1001–1006. However, in your First Sonata op. 36, you deviate significantly from any explicit connection to Bach. Could you elaborate on the relationship between the two movements within this Sonata? Also, in light of the present day, how would you characterize its stylistic position in the context of your oeuvre?

KM: While composing this piece, I didn't draw inspiration from the music of the artists you mentioned. I was mainly focused on working intensively on my own language at the time. I was still in the early stages of exploring the organization of pitch, creating dramatic elements, exploring the expressive potential of the violin, and so on. Regarding the relationship between the different sections of this piece, the contrast that arises through the interplay of the arco and pizzicato is essential. The first movement consists of brief episodes punctuated by pauses, while the second movement is characterized by an extended conversation-like quality.

KL: The cycle Geigen-Krämchen op. 55 for violin and piano was composed in 1981 during a period of intense political tension in Poland. What's behind the title? What was the inspiration for these seven miniatures? Is there an agenda behind them?

KM: These brief miniatures for violin and piano are unrelated to the political situation that was present in Poland in 1981. I composed them for my son, who was eight years old at the time and had started playing the violin a year earlier. They are very simple pieces with an educational character, although I think they are not like the typical pedagogical compositions made for beginners.

KL: What importance does so-called "pedagogical music" have for you? Have you made any other contributions to this genre?

KM: Composing for children is a unique task. The pieces should be straightforward and accessible, while also being crafted in a way that engages a child's curiosity and encourages them to learn. The models for this type of music, for me, are the two cycles by Béla Bartók: Gyermekeknek and Mikrokosmos. Although my compositions do not directly reference to Bartók, I always carry with me the essence of his works, characterized by simplicity, originality, and a distinctive style. By the way, my contributions to children's music are limited. Geigen-Krämchen, a piece for violin and piano is for beginners, while the Sonatine is designed for more advanced players. For piano, there are the Zauberbilder, a collection for beginners, as well as the more intricate Kindersuite. Apart from these pieces, I composed a children's opera – Die verzauberten Brüder, which has been staged in several opera houses (in Germany in Wuppertal).

KL: Both Misterioso op. 83 and Capriccio interrotto op. 93, composed in 1994 and 2000 respectively, were commissioned for international violin competitions. Did the specifics of the task influence how you went about composing? What kinds of challenges and opportunities arise in the context of such a situation?

KM: The organizers of both competitions gave me complete freedom in choosing my technique, the style of music, the level of difficulty in performance, and so on. When I composed Misterioso, my primary intention was to provide the performer with the opportunity to showcase a beautiful tone and phrasing and to create a somewhat surreal atmosphere. Capriccio interrotto is by contrast a virtuoso piece par excellence. Its character is abrupt, and its tempo is generally fast. While composing it, I had no desire to repeat the task I had set for myself for Misterioso.

KL: The title "Misterioso" already suggests the magical and nocturne-like character of this miniature, which features an opening that seems to emerge spontaneously from nothingness. Knowing how meticulously you craft your compositions, I nevertheless wonder if improvising at the piano can occasionally serve as a source of inspiration for you?

KM: No, the rhythmic flow and character of the music have nothing to do with improvisation. Everything is thoroughly considered, planned and realized. I composed both pieces at a time when I was deeply interested in questions of rhythmic organization. I didn't want my music to be based on simple, familiar, tradition-driven patterns; instead, I wanted to invent a totally different rhythmical organization for my music. This leads to the relatively frequent occurrence of quintuplets, septuplets, or several complex rhythms at once, and so on, but there is no improvisation.

KL: Misterioso and Capriccio interrotto are, in a sense, antipodal to each other. Did you intend, from the outset, for the Capriccio interrotto to be so opposite?

KM: As I suggested earlier, while composing the second piece, I wanted to create something new and different, a new experience.

KL: The title of the brilliant Capriccio interrotto refers to two famous movements of explicitly interrupted architecture – Claude Debussy's Sérénade interrompue (from: Préludes 1er livre) and Intermezzo interrotto from Béla Bartók's Concerto for Orchestra. Were there any points of reference in your Capriccio interrotto to these compositions which, unlike your piece, are of humorous respectively grotesque character? What is the impact of the idea of interruption on the formal design of the piece?

KM: The term "interrotto" in the title has nothing to do with Debussy or Bartók. Instead, it pertains to the composition's form and the use of arithmetical sequences. As you will have noticed, the composition comprises two continuously alternating ideas. They are not repeated verbatim; the difference lies in their tempo and duration. For instance, the first episode recurs three times, progressively decreasing in duration. By contrast, the second episode starts very slowly and gradually accelerates while increasing in length with each iteration. Theoretically, one could further develop this form, but it would eventually lose its musical significance. The first idea, diminishing in length, would ultimately reduce to a single note, while the second idea would reach an unattainably swift tempo and a length that would no longer make sense structurally. So, I had to interrupt these arithmetical sequences at a certain point. I accomplished this by adding approximately a dozen bars of a conclusion that no longer relates to the two main ideas. Hence, the term "interrotto".

KL: In 2018, as a unique symbol of our friendship, you dedicated your Second Sonata, op. 133 for solo violin to me, an ample, epic work whose three movements seem to evolve from distinct combinations of intervals, specifically the minor third and minor second. I'm curious about the central ideas that guided your composition of this solo sonata and how you were influenced by instrument-specific aspects.

KM: I'm afraid I don't have a precise answer to that question. Unlike the Capriccio interrotto, there's nothing in this sonata that lends itself to explaining its structure and compositional challenges in just a few words. There are times when I find myself engrossed in solving a new musical problem, which subsequently allows me to write several additional pieces without embarking on a new exploration. This sonata, composed specifically for you, is intended to bring you joy. It is a piece of music that does not require specific explanation. It provides the performer with the opportunity to showcase their instrument's beautiful sounds and their technical prowess while developing a sense of dramatic expression. If you discover such expressive possibilities within this sonata and they bring you happiness, then I am truly delighted.

KL: Lastly, I would like to pose a fundamental question that transcends the compositions documented in this recording: what is the importance of tonality for you, especially in your current process of composition?

KM: For centuries, traditional tonality, rooted in major and minor modes along with various other scales, served as the cornerstone of organizing musical pitches. While it may be considered outdated from a contemporary perspective, we should not disregard the potential inherent in the logical organization of tonal relationships. In the twentieth century, numerous compositions have been written based on meticulously organized notes, although this had nothing to do with traditional tonality. In my view, it is not solely the act of organization that holds significance, but rather the establishment of relationships between sounds that generate tension and steer the path of musical progression. This is a pursuit I have dedicated myself to for many years

KL: Thank you, dear Krzysztof, for your beautiful music and for granting us a glimpse into your compositional workshop.

January till March 2023

Translation: Barbara Serfozo