The Inside Story: Brian Woods and WANDERINGS

WANDERINGS, the debut album from pianist Brian Woods, reflects the beauty that can emerge in dark times. The album was born as an artistic response to the horror of the war in Ukraine; through these emotive and technically-demanding performances, Woods offers comfort and inspiration for people everywhere suffering displacement.

Today, Brian is our featured artist in the “Inside Story,” a blog series exploring the inner workings and personalities of our composers and performers. Read on to learn about the various influences that permeate his album, and the valuable lesson that pushed him to fully pursue a life in music…

If you weren’t a musician, what would you be doing?

My parents always said I would make a good lawyer, and I frankly don’t know if that is a compliment or not, but I have always been drawn to work that is linked to storytelling, presentation, and audience connection. I grew up with a great deal of interest in theater, and I like to joke that I’m a theater kid trapped in a pianist’s body. Everything I do seems to gravitate toward this idea of narrative, taking an audience in whatever setting on a journey from one place to the next. So, to answer your question, I always thought I’d be pretty good at marketing or some sort of administrative/director role that hinges a great deal on having a strong sense of mission, then communicating that mission effectively.

What advice would you give to your younger self if given the chance?

I think the actress Sarah Paulson said it best: RELAX! If you had told me, even five years ago, that I would be running my own celebrated chamber series, touring the country as a soloist, and debuting my first major album, I wouldn’t have believed you. It’s amazing how much can change so quickly, if you are willing to work hard and put yourself out there. I never really knew how I fit into the professional music world — I didn’t grow up in a family of professional musicians, and I didn’t participate in many competitions or major music festivals growing up. So, anytime I auditioned for something or performed in public, I was truly flying blind in terms of how “good” I was, or how that would translate into a career. I think my younger self would be amazed at how wonderfully things have turned out.

What emotions do you hope listeners will experience after hearing your work?

WANDERINGS came from a pretty dark place: the horrors of an ongoing war in Ukraine that has resulted in so much death and disruption. I hope that listeners will feel that heaviness to the album, but also take comfort in the fact that music has been a source of healing for so many over the course of history. That’s what we love so much about classical music, right? The music of composers existing hundreds of years ago can bring us joy so many years later. When you hear something as recognizable as a Chopin Ballade or as new as the music of underrepresented voices, you know that both those pieces of music came from a human being that was experiencing real emotions, just like ours. Plus, as a pianist performing music without words, I get the room to allow listeners to attach the music to whatever emotions they might associate with what they are hearing. It’s a wonderful thing.

How have your influences changed as you grow as a musician?

My influences have always been narrative-driven and audience focused, more about the human experience than anything ethereal or otherworldly. Growing up, I was obsessed with theater and musicals, dabbled in opera, and devoured anything from pop to oratorio. Interestingly enough, the piano music that appealed to me was not the most overtly theatrical — throughout my years in conservatory, I was known as the guy who played the gargantuan, “serious” works: Beethoven Hammerklavier, Schumann Symphonic Etudes, Brahms Concerti, etc. Perhaps it was a pride thing, like somehow not playing a Liszt showpiece made me more of an “academic.” It wasn’t until I started to work professionally, touring and programming my own concerts, that I began to admire the pianists known for their live performance: Rubenstein, Horowitz, and others who connected with audiences in such an immediate way. Now, I like to think that I approach my artistic life with a bit more balance, finding what can appeal to listeners of all backgrounds but remaining satisfied in the depth and freedom of my creativity.

Where and when are you at your most creative?

As a solo pianist, you have to be pretty introverted, at least in your daily life. I really value spending time alone, working through my mental processes and creating an environment that is just right for me to practice, build concert experiences, and consider what kind of impact my music is having on the world around me. At the same time, I don’t like living life in a vacuum, and I have this odd habit of playing podcasts or long-form YouTube essays in the background while I practice. I’m not even listening half the time, I just like hearing human interactions so that I feel a part of something larger than myself. Having lots of practice time as a working professional is a privilege, and I don’t take lightly the opportunity I’ve been given to travel the country and let my creativity know no bounds. Given that privilege, I try to make the most of every minute at the instrument, while also giving myself time to have fun and play.

As far as inspiration is concerned, I am intensely motivated by world events. This album, after all, was born from the war in Ukraine, and I still run to certain repertoire as a response to things I see happening in the world. Music and life experiences are one and the same for me, they don’t really exist without the other.

What musical mentor had the greatest impact on your artistic journey? Is there any wisdom they’ve imparted onto you that still resonates today?

My final teacher, John O’Conor, left an incredible impact, not just from the invaluable lessons I learned about piano playing, but from the example of the life he has led in music. I remember our first lesson was something like two hours long — unheard of, if you ask any of his students. I was 23 at the time, and already felt like my window was closing for having a career of any consequence in music, as I was no prodigy or major competition winner. I said something to that effect, and John bristled then said “and WHY would you give up now? I didn’t play a Chopin etude until I was 24!” I came to find out that John did not begin studies with his mentor in Vienna until he was in his twenties, and had to rebuild his technique from the ground up with hours and hours of practice. And we all can see how well that worked out for him in his career. I think, among the many wonderful lessons I learned from him, I will always cherish how John taught me to stay the course, focus on my journey and not get discouraged if I don’t stay on the prescribed path. We still stay in touch, and I owe him a great deal of thanks for giving me the courage to pursue a life in music with every ounce of my being.