Kevin Chen: Music and the Inevitability of Being Yourself

Pianist Kevin Chen has his schedule filled with a host of concerts lined up in consecutive months in Canada and places in Europe. Despite this, Chen was gracious enough to have an interview with Veniccio.com’s writer.

In addition to concerts, Chen gained a reputation for participating in competitions, winning First Prize in competitions such as the Franz Liszt International Piano Competition in Budapest (2021) at the age of 16. He would later go on to win First Prize at the Concours de Genève (2022) and the Arthur Rubinstein International Piano Master Competition (Tel Aviv 2023). More recently, he was the recipient of the second prize in last year’s International Chopin Competition. 

On speaking about competitions, however, Chen shared, “I strongly prefer concerts to competitions.” He elaborated:

“In competitions, there is always an aspect of evaluation and ranking with numbers, and I’m always aware to some extent of the jury’s presence, who will have to compare performers and make a decision at the end. That could cause participants to hesitate to fully commit to their personal style if it may not be favoured by the jury.”

In contrast, concerts allow the performer to be himself, something competitions despairingly discourage. “Because of this, I tried to treat every competition as just a set of very important concerts, though it can never truly feel the same!” He said.

It is often in the simple act of doing—performing any random action—that we discover ourselves, our beliefs, personalities, and ways of being. With Chen, for instance, it was the act of studying musical compositions that led to his own composing in the past. “I don’t remember how it started, but I must have been motivated by the beauty of other composers’ works,” he said, “and my compositional style was partly inspired by whatever pieces I happened to be working on at the time.” 

It is one thing to feel the beauty of a composer and another to understand the person behind the music. But oftentimes, we find that the artist behind the curtain is none other than ourselves at times. When we attempt to understand people in their absence, we often fill in the gaps with our own ideas of the person. As a pianist playing long-gone composers, Chen expresses this dilemma, saying,

 “Ultimately, I think I have to rely more on my own interpretation to bring out the meaning behind the composer’s work, simply because it is impossible to communicate directly with the composer.”

But it is in the face of this uncertainty about the person of the composer that allows for such a multiplicity of interpretations to flourish, Chen further states,

“It is also impossible to please everyone with any one interpretation, which is why there is a need for all types of different artists, even if they perform the same work. Therefore, I believe the best I can do is to simply play how I feel comfortable, and that allows me to convey the emotions of the music in a natural and personal way.” 

In a time where “correct ways” of playing a piece of music constrain more than liberate the musician, sentiments like Chen’s are as valuable as gold. The inevitability of being ourselves occurs even when we have all the facts. Historical truths and typographical discoveries do a good job of steering us along the general direction, but there always remain the specificities in the music that require us to give our own nuances. 

“Everyone’s story with music looks different, so there isn’t any one piece of advice that works for everyone,” Chen spoke, “but from my own perspective, I think an important aspect is to be inspired.”

That is, after all, the goal, isn’t it? More than anything, it is the emotive effect of music that leaves us speechless, unaware that we’ve subtly become newer people once the last note fades. Chen expresses it wonderfully:

“If the composer is not living, we cannot ask them how to interpret their piece, so we can only do our best to take inspiration from various sources. This can also include the deeper task of understanding human emotions, and not necessarily just the piece. It isn’t always possible to completely understand a piece of music, since we were not there while it was written and don’t share the experiences of the composer, so in the end, I consider a successful interpretation one that allows the listeners to feel something and walk away impacted.”

The music of Chopin and Liszt is particularly what inspires Chen the most. “I feel ‘at home’ with their music!” He shared. He cited Liszt’s Totentanz as an excellent work to inspire someone, saying,

“I believe it has many exciting elements that show the diverse capabilities of classical music!”

Beyond crafting an individual personality, Chen sees his role as a concert pianist as establishing forms of communication, especially when it comes to collaborative programs.

“[P]ianists often perform solo on stage, which is in some way the nature of the instrument. But it can get lonely at times, so I particularly enjoy playing chamber music and would consider it to be one of my favourite settings. In any case, whether performing alone or with collaborators, music is a form of communication and is meant to be shared with its listeners.”

Communication for Chen can be between the performer and his audience and environment as well, Chen shares.

“I’m especially looking forward to visiting and exploring places I haven’t been and experiencing the warmth of the audiences there! It’s fascinating to witness how many people enjoy experiencing a live musical performance and feel connected through it. I feel honoured to be able to do what I do.”