Pianists in Conversation: Alexandra Stréliski and Jane Lai

By Jane Lai

Friday, June 30, 2023

Alexandra Stréliski tells stories, helping listeners enter their imaginations. Through this, and a love for film music, she builds a world distinct yet shareable with anyone who tunes in. “I think it’s something I observe for my own music as opposed to something I try to do,” she told me. 

Currently based in Canada, Stréliski is classically trained as a pianist and composer, merging worlds between minimalist and film music. “I had to go to school and get very heavy training and then kind of forget it all,” she told me. “You get all the knowledge and then stop thinking about it.” 

Stréliski and I chatted briefly, but it felt full and resonant, like a conversation with an old, close friend I haven’t seen in years. It was my regular Monday morning of chores and catching up with friends and her day off from a European tour. Currently, she’s with a string trio whom she collaborated with on her latest work Néo-Romance. We honed in on musical fidelities and sensibilities (and how those two inform the art itself). There’s safety and comfort in stability. These feelings live in the string of pianos she played on throughout the years, a commitment to how her ideas both arrive and finish, and the trust she has with her collaborators. Stréliski bases creations on improvisation and spontaneous writing. It was also fascinating to learn about her experiences with improvisation and spontaneous writing, visual orchestrations she offers with live performances, and how she cultivated her latest album into something completely close to heart.

Until fairly recently, Stréliski mainly played on a piano she had since she was six. It was an upright in France to which she dedicated so much of her time. When she moved back to Montreal, she recorded her second album Inscape on it. During the pandemic, she moved to the Netherlands and landed on a new piano: a Seiler, which she wrote most of Néo-Romance. “Pianos are like babies,” she told me, laughing. “I feel like I cheated on my piano I’ve been playing on for 30 years.” 

There are types of pianos: uprights create intimate and imperfect sounds. A sostenuto pedal sits in the middle of the three pedals. Also known as a damper pedal, its traditional use is to reduce volume by sandwiching a thin blanket of felt between hammers and strings. However, the sound is also used for songs capturing a gentler feel. To Stréliski, uprights better suit a piece. For others, grand pianos provide necessary big basses and amplitude. And to Stréliski, she tries to record on the piano she composed on. “I try to remain loyal to the first idea and how it emerged,” she said.

To share art that reaches others stems from a growing understanding between yourself and the people you work with. Stréliski’s touring string trio took a class in Amsterdam examining how to communicate with one another as humans before artists.  “When playing with others, you have to be mindful and have the same emotional length,” she told me. “But also if something doesn’t work you have to be able to say it correctly and not hurt each other’s feelings.”

“I was inspired by the contrasts. You can still be in love and still have that type of suffering and be courageous enough to open your heart. It’s about deconfining yourself and keeping your heart open.”

In Stréliski’s live setup, the only electronic components are guitar pedals she uses for different types of reverbs. In her usual setup for bigger shows, she houses a grand piano, an upright, a string trio, and décor. Some friends of hers work in a circus in France, building big panels that move around with a mirror that rises to the ceiling. “It’s very poetic and graphic as a show,” she noted.  

Stréliski wrote the album while retracing her Jewish roots, noting who left and where they lived. Her family stemmed from musical backgrounds (primarily conductors and violinists) who inspired the work. In another arc, Neo-Romance is also an ode to a fresh love story balanced with a heartbreak that’s not that far away. “I was inspired by the contrasts,” she said. “You can still be in love and still have that type of suffering and be courageous enough to open your heart. It’s about deconfining yourself and keeping your heart open.” 

There’s a type of unexplainable magic unfolding in her work, overflowing with romantic themes and grand imagery. Stréliski also stressed the importance of conceptual ideas living and eventually, coming alive through albums. Songs present themselves as short stories individually but perform a narrative as a whole. 

The album’s closer, “a new romance,” dances like a bittersweet jaunt—a coin of ambivalence couples with tangible hope. It’s so close. You can hear fabrics and woods of the piano keys lifting up and down like scuffing pollen off a raincoat. In contrast, “the hills” offers greater mystery and purposeful movement with a punching right-hand lead and a driving bass in the left. I imagine two racers running at different speeds, but still, they beautifully pair themselves together.

Songs are ever-changing and malleable. Stréliski wrote part of one song in Berlin during a soundcheck then let it go. She returned to it a few months later and finished the piece in one shot. Sometimes what’s equalized in the process stems from listening and catching sequences as they come. Time heals and solves matters in unexpected heartbeats. It also allows room for a creation you didn’t know you needed until it happens. “The music emerges in different contexts,” she told me. “It’s different when recorded and when performed live. And the music continues to live on its own.”

For a long time, Stréliski feared the stage. The people, pressure, and details of never-ending unpredictability, a list as long as a CVS receipt, always existed. Despite that, before she knew what a touring life as a professional musician looked or felt like, she once imagined performing in a two-story church and looking out to a crowd of eager listeners. The most magical moment for her was when she lived that vision at an Icelandic church, nearly detail for detail. It's surreal when a premonition materializes, especially when you never envisioned how it could come into play in your life. But it made sense, because there was no doubt in her voice.

About Jane Lai

Jane is a community-oriented musician and collaborator based in Brooklyn, NY (who occasionally dabbles in writing).

ARTICLES