The Anderson & Roe love Steinway Pianos. Look for Steinway Pianos in their concerts, videos, and recordings!
Austin's Question
Dear Greg & Liz,
I love your playing. You inspired me to write a duet! So how long did it take you to write Libertango? Did you guys just sit down one day and say, "Let's rewrite a song," or what? I JUST bought the Browns' new CD [with Greg's compositions and arrangements] by the way. Love your vids!
Austin
Dear Austin,
Thanks for all your kind words! It's always nice to hear that other people love watching and listening to us as much as we love playing together.
"What prompted us to start 're-writing' music?" The answer isn't so simple, but it stems from a desire to take a piece and make it our own. Sometimes we re-imagine music to help keep that which we love relevant to audiences today. Sometimes we do it because there isn't much music our there that suits our distinct style. Sometimes we do it to showcase our personal strengths. Sometimes to give audiences a sense of our personal relationship with the music. Sometimes it's the simple desire to perform music not originally intended for piano that leads us to arrange music.
"How long does it take to compose our music?" The Libertango arrangement was created pretty hastily. We started writing on a Sunday, started practicing the next Thursday, and we performed it two days later, on Saturday. Our Star Wars Fantasy is essentially an original composition based on a few familiar themes, and as such, it took much, much longer to compose. We started composing in February of 2006, didn't sleep for two months, and finished composing the piece on the day of the performance in early April that same year. Greg will tell you that composing (and arranging) for five pianos takes even longer. His Fantasia on "Dives and Lazarus" took six solid months to compose!
Be sure to watch for our CD release (featuring many of our original compositions and arrangements!) later this November!
an innate necessity
We receive a hefty number of wonderful emails, both positive and negative, and we thank everyone who takes the time to share their thoughts with us.
I admit, however, to taking offense when our artistic integrity is called into question. Our websites and videos have never been about show-biz, nor are they simply about virtuosity. They were not created as gimmicks or to be clever.
They were born out of an innate necessity.
Our websites, videos, performances, and compositions are an outcome of the spirit and joy inherent in music-making. They are the result of our desire to create real and authentic links with our audiences.
Our videos are not intended to be clever or “rock-style;” they are designed to enhance the meaning of the music performed. The "Pas de deux" video, for example, aims to intensify the intimacy and nostalgia already inherent in the music. Similarly, our video of the New Account of the Blue Danube Waltzes intends to visually dramatize what the music already conveys: as we wrote in our album’s liner notes, “our kaleidoscopic Blue Danube Fantasy takes the elegance of the Viennese waltz as a point of departure and plunges headlong into the passions that undulate beneath the dance's restrained facade.” We created the "Reimagine" trailers to represent, in a few short minutes, the impact and drama of the entire album and to encourage viewers to invest in the full production, just as a movie trailer intends to do.
Our compositions and arrangements are not pianistically challenging merely for the sake of virtuosity. For example, we wrote the hand crossings into our Libertango arrangement to visually communicate an element of danger: the racing heartbeats, the physical friction, and the charged chemistry between a pair of tango dancers. Many of our compositions and arrangements for four-hands are designed to withstand the demands of a 2000-seat concert hall, unlike so many works from the four-hand repertoire more suited for a living room; this also changes the way we approach the compositional process.
We do not select repertoire to be sensational; we select music that speaks to us, music that we love, and music that makes a statement. When asked to replace John Williams as composers for a Juilliard centennial concert, we chose to use the iconic Star Wars music as our source material for a very simple reason: we love the music. We really do. And we found great joy in making this music our own.
Our presence on the Internet is not simply about self-promotion; we maintain a strong presence on the Internet because we feel it is an effective way to share and discuss music with people, especially young people. It is an exceptional tool with the power to galvanize new classical music listeners. The questions and answers on our website, and the polling booth for that matter, are designed to give us an opportunity to communicate directly with our audiences (we hope to relate to our audiences as real people and not some aloof automatons on stage).
Everything we do is a result of our mission:
To connect with others; to engage, provoke, illuminate; to serve as a conduit for the composer’s voice; to authentically express our inner lives; to share the joy and fulfillment that only music can elicit. …to free the world from the constraints of sleep-inducing concerts. …to demonstrate that classical piano music can serve as a relevant and powerful force in society.
All that we do as musicians is geared toward these goals, is inspired by these goals, and is fueled by these goals.
If we were doing it all for gimmickry or attention, we wouldn’t have accomplished nearly as much (in fact, we’d be downright bored), and we’re confident it wouldn’t be nearly as good.
Comparing Butterflies to Parthenon Marbles
I came across a terrific article written by the always-entertaining Harold Schonberg while working on my book the other day. The piece, “Recitalists who Adhere to ‘Tradition’ in Their Programs May Court Disaster,” appeared the New York Times in 1960, and I’ve pasted an excerpt from it below.
No artist who ever lived has been master of all styles. Even a genius like Rachmaninoff sounded rather silly on those rare occasions he played Mozart of Debussy. And yet, year after year, march the divisions of hopefuls with programs that encompass a capsule history of music.
Thus we get the spectacle of an ardent young violinist, obviously of a temperament that would tear down the hall in Paganini, scraping away at unaccompanied Bach. Or the converse: a young man who would be only too happy to play unaccompanied Bach to the best of his considerable ability along those lines, but who feels it his duty to play Paganini miserably.
Why in the name of artistic suicide do these things so often happen? Simply because tradition, that dried-up and unimaginative old spinster, has so decreed.
It is high time that artists realized they should program only the things that they feel they can play, not the things they think they should play. If an artist has a romantic temperament, he should avoid Scarlatti or unaccompanied Bach, and confine himself to Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, Brahms. If his allegiance is to the moderns, on with Hindemith, Prokofieff and Schoenberg; out with everything else.
But then enters, draped in black, the figure of the wise man. How, he asks in his infinite wisdom, can an artist be judged until he plays Mozart and Beethoven? THEY are the ultimate test, and not until then can the artist be given a pass to the pantheon. So says the wise man.
But this argument, though it has been parroted for years, is nonsense, and dangerous non-sense at that. Is it not good enough that an artist does a particular segment of the repertory with flair? Is not a fine Ravel interpretation preferable to a second-rate Beethoven one? Should not an artist be given credit for what he can do, rather than insults for what he does not even attempt to do? What smug superiority it is to set up standards by which a butterfly must be compared to an Elgin marble!
reimagination, obsession
The time has come: our debut album "Reimagine" is finally here! We are proud to unveil Trailer #1:
Being immersed in the CD release process has prompted me to think about what drives Greg and me as performers and creators. The other day I was reading The New York Times and I came across this article on Keira Knightley. Something she was quoted as saying struck a chord with me:
“ 'Sorry,' she said. 'But if you’re going to be part of this business, I think you have to be a little bit like this. You have to be a bit obsessed.'”
In my opinion, her comment totally applies to a life in music (or in any of the arts) as well: if you're going to be a musician, you have to be a bit obsessed. Though I generally believe in balance and moderation, there is no denying that the creative process has this unique, ineluctable power to overcome, enthrall and consume me. And this always happens when Greg and I work together.
For instance, last night we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning finishing up the trailer video. As I took care of various CD release matters I couldn't stop glancing over at Greg's computer and laughing gleefully at the creation emerging before our eyes. While marveling at Greg's brilliant movie-making skills, I continuously offered my own two cents (which probably annoyed him!). And when we looked at the clock and noticed that it was the hour when most decent citizens of the world start their day, we were too wired to care; time really does fly when you're having fun!
So yes, we're obsessed with music and with bringing our artistic ideas to life, but really, we're just like two kids who are having such a great time playing that time and worries and limitations just fade into oblivion. EJR
P.S. Greg really does want to write to all of you, but since he's been busy with the videos and other pieces of business, I have been the resident blogger of late. We both hope you enjoy our new album—buy it now at CD Baby!