Alice Sara Ott talks to Michael Church

“I feel a deep attachment to Chopin’s Waltzes”, says Alice Sara Ott. “They reflect the whole arc of his composing life, and they also reflect his split personality – between Polish and French – and his lifelong search for identity. I feel split in a similar way, between Japanese and German. Only in music do I feel completely at home.”

Alice Sara Ott was born in Munich in 1988 to a Japanese mother and a German father. Her mother did her best to dissuade her daughter from embracing the pressurized life of a concert pianist, after she had announced, at three, that she wanted to become one; she built a palisade round the piano to prevent her from playing it, but after a year she gave in, and Alice started taking lessons. She played no Czerny exercises, but was soon mastering Bach’s Inventions and Sinfonias. Winning a competition at five confirmed her ambition: “I was astonished and delighted by the warmth of the audience response, and immediately decided that this would be my job.”

Her subsequent career has been studded with further competition triumphs, including the “Most Promising Artist” Award in Hamamatsu at the age of 13 and, two years later, first prize in the Silvio Bengalli competition in Italy (where she was the youngest contestant and won the highest-ever score in that competition’s history). She balances dazzling mastery of Tchaikovsky and Ravel concertos with superbly authoritative performances of solo works by Beethoven and Liszt (her interpretation of Liszt’s Études d’exécution transcendante was recently released on Deutsche Grammophon).

Asked what she sees as the challenge of playing Chopin’s Waltzes, Alice Sara Ott replies that it is to find “the true smell, the true colour” of each one. “Chopin’s music is never heart-on-sleeve. He never parades his emotions: he always preserves his dignity. For me, it’s as though he lets one single tear roll down his cheek – but behind the mask there’s a deep sadness. He was outwardly charming, but in private he was melancholic. These pieces don’t so much conjure up pictures for me as recall experiences I have had in my life. When I am sad, I play op. 64 no. 2 in C sharp minor, and it consoles me. I play it when night is falling, with the lights off.” In this respect, she is carrying out Chopin’s instructions to the letter. As he told his own pupils: “When the eyes can see neither notes nor keys, when all disappears, only then does the hearing function with all its sensitivity.”

Alice Sara Ott’s commentary on the Waltzes is often illuminating. The op. 42 Waltz in A flat major is one she particularly loves: “The inner voice at the start must be a dark murmur to help the outer one shine more brightly, which paradoxically creates a kind of melancholy. I love the harmonies in the middle section, and also the dramatic shift in colour before the final reprise. I made a very quick connection with that one.” For her, making a connection is not always instantaneous – for example, she initially found the op. 18 Waltz resistant: “Maybe because the phrases are so short, and a throughline therefore so hard to find, whereas with the Waltz op. 34 no. 1 the phrases are long and graceful, and easy to slip into.” Op. 64 no. 1 in D flat major, familiarly known as the “Minute” Waltz, makes her laugh: “In Japan, it’s called the ‘Waltz of the Little Dog’, and that’s how it seems to me – chasing its tail. It’s all done with a smile and a wink.”

Chopin was never satisfied with the way his pupils played the opening of op. 64 no. 2 in C sharp minor, and even Alice Sara Ott found its first few bars a challenge: “It took me a while to find a way to connect the smooth first phrase with the lightly tossed-off second.” The following Waltz op. 64 no. 3 in A flat major is one of the rare moments in this cycle where Chopin gives the theme to the left hand half-way through, and its brilliant coda is often seen as an excuse for display. “I don’t take this one too fast”, she says. “It needs to retain its waltz quality – these are sa-lon pieces, and they must entertain in that style. Virtuosity would obscure the underlying melancholy and longing.” In her view, Alfred Cortot and Dinu Lipatti are the pianists who have come closest to that spirit.
Alice Sara Ott regards the restrained regret in the “Farewell” Waltz op. 69 no. 1 as being very much a young man’s utterance: “When you are young, saying goodbye to people is not so terrible – you feel you have plenty of time ahead. I tried playing this Waltz in many different ways, at first very slowly to feel the harmonies, before I found the best way for me. Understanding the deep structure of a piece is what I spend most of my practice time doing – understanding the different touches required – and slow practice is essential for that.” And of the Waltz in A minor (KK IVb no. 11) that rounds off the collection, she says, “It’s simple, but with moments of deep sadness. With it I can find inner peace – and so can the audience. And that is my aim.”

Her other aim is absolute fidelity to Chopin’s intentions. Alice Sara Ott has chosen to play from the autograph manuscripts, regarding them as truer than some of the published versions are to the essentially sombre spirit of his music. If Chopin were to materialize in front of her, how would she react? “We know he had quite a small sound – he couldn’t play fortissimo, but he had many subtle shades of pianissimo. He was simply a poet. If he were here now, I wouldn’t ask any questions about interpretation. I would just ask him to play, to check that I had the smell of each piece exactly right.”