Julian Lawrence Gargiulo has what is perhaps one of the most unpronounceable biographies in history. This magnificently coiffed Italian-American composer/pianist/stand-up comedian studied at the Verona State Conservatory with Aureliana Randone; the Mugi Academy in Rome with Aldo Ciccolini; the Moscow Conservatory with Mikhail Mezhlumov and under Veda Zuponcic at Rowan University in the US. Today, having performed everywhere from New York’s Carnegie Hall to the Singapore Esplanade, Gargiulo is once again setting a course for Cambodia. Here, alongside Satomi Ogawa – who in addition to being a celebrated soprano also happens to be Miss Universe Japan – he will headline at the Catch A Cambodian Star concert: a classical concert, but not as we know it. Expect an evening of enchanting music by Scarlatti, Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, Rimsky-Korsakov and Puccini infused with fast-paced humour from this most irreverent of classical musicians (proceeds from the concert, tickets for which are $20 in advance and $25 on the door, help fund international scholarships for local talent; call 016 892377 for reservations). The Advisor caught up with Julian in his adopted home of New York City to talk afros, not getting kidnapped by Russian agents and how hard it is defining yourself in 25 words or less.
Obvious question: how’s that magnificent mane of yours?
My hair is still growing, mysteriously! I cut it myself. I cut it sometimes right before I play, which Samson for sure wouldn’t do. When you cut your hair, sometimes it looks better. Well, it doesn’t look better, especially if I’m cutting it, but I think the hair gets a little fresher or something. So I cut it and then I wash it and then TA-DA!
And then it precedes you on stage by a full five minutes. Does it have its own passport? Do you have to book an extra seat for it on the plane?
I have to book extra overhead space…
So the other big news since last we met is: baby. Congratulations, daddy.
Thank you. I’m very excited. That’s why I’m surprised I haven’t lost my hair yet. I just had a dream that someone was shaking my baby. I’m not a violent person, but in my dream I punched this guy. I think I overreacted in the dream.
We had a dream alchemist here a few weeks ago. I’ll hook you up. Most dreams are your brain processing whatever has happened during the previous 24 to 48 hours, I’m told.
It was probably the guacamole.
So how does it feel being a dad?
Do you want to see her? She’s sleeping right now… [walks laptop over to crib]
No afro! Are you sure she’s yours? Have you checked?
I actually have serious doubts because not only is the hair not there, but she has these big blue eyes.
If she can play piano, you’re safe. Try her with something easy; some Rachmaninoff, perhaps.
[Laughs] There you go.
We’re very excited you’re coming back.
I’m excited! Last time was my first visit. There was this very cool editor that I met, from The Advisor. You don’t know her… [Laughs] I just remember that when I was there, there was a whirlwind of stuff organised and everybody I met was super-friendly. I did get the feeling I was much more important than I ever thought myself to be.
I think we all fell a little bit in love with you.
No, no! It’s just me! Relax.
That’s rather the point. I found a marvellous quote about you in the St John Times from 2004: “A marvellous tour de force… Somewhere between a lecture recital and Saturday Night Live, but with the added benefit of the highest calibre piano-playing between skits.” Pretty much sums you up, wouldn’t you say?
Um…
Oh, come on. I’ve seen Beethoven recitals at The Sydney Opera House; I’ve seen orchestras conducted by Andre Previn. Never have I seen anyone make classical music quite so wildly entertaining as you do – apart, perhaps, from British comedy duo Eric Morecambe & Ernie Wise.
I have no idea who that is. Send me a link! It was also nice in Cambodia to see how many people came to see the show. That’s one of the challenges with classical music: nobody comes. And if people don’t come, it’s more difficult to create the excitement. Maybe what I’m trying to do is rebel. But to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’m a rebel. I’m really just doing what I like to do and what I feel comfortable doing, which is very much connecting with people. I do it through the way I play – I express everything I want to express – but then I also want to talk and I want it to be done in a different way.
Few classical musicians share the same high-energy tempo you’re now famous for. You’re essentially a hype man with a wicked hair cut.
Hey, that’s a good quote! I love ‘wicked’.
Now, what else is new for you?
I’m working on a new album but it won’t be ready by the time I get to Cambodia. I still haven’t figured out the title; it’s going to be me playing just my own stuff. Is it going to be ‘Julian Playing Julian’? But that sounds very weird.
How about Julian Squared? It’s you, by you.
That sounds good! And I can be on the cover with a little ‘2’ beside my head… [Laughs]
And New York has been treating you well?
Very! I’m sad we’re not here more. We’re moving to Paris in September. Elektra [Julian’s partner] got into a fabulously difficult simultaneous translation programme at the Sorbonne University, where they take 12 people out of 350. We’re going to be there for two years. It doesn’t really matter where I am, so long as I’m near an airport. At the moment I’m writing a lot; playing a lot. I’m meeting with my agent tomorrow to discuss my future.
It’s going to be huge – just like your hair!
[Laughs] We’ll probably just discuss the restaurant menu and what we’re going to eat, but we might discuss a concert or two along the way. Has Cambodia changed much since I was last there?
There are parts of it you won’t recognise.
I remember feeling a good, positive thing going on. Something like the San Francisco Renaissance. So anyway, the CD idea is Julian Plays Julian – or Julian Squared – and it’s all my music, but it’s also collaboration with friends. I’m still finishing a sonata for piano and trumpet. There are going to be a few pieces for piano and voice and then just piano.
Is music something that just kind of happens to you? Do you have some sort of musical Higgs Boson in your brain that makes it pop into existence?
Maybe it’s similar to when you write a story. There are different sides to it. Maybe the idea comes to you in a moment, or maybe you have to sit there and write and then it becomes clear. I really enjoy composing but you have to be completely focused. I’ve found that one of the difficult things with having a baby is that part of your brain is always on the baby. If you want to write music you have to get into the piece; it’s like a separate world. It takes a little bit of time. You can’t just go in immediately. If you don’t have three hours in a row to do that, that’s definitely one of the challenges. She’s even coming into my dreams now! But I’m so excited about everything right now: Elektra, the baby…
And you’re coming back here for the Catch A Cambodian Star concert. No shortage of hot young talent here at the moment.
They’re hot; they’re sweaty; they’re dying to get to cooler temperatures! [Laughs] I’m excited about this. The last concert I did in Cambodia was for children orphaned by the Japanese tsunami. This is a completely different thing, raising money for kids who want to pursue their music. It’s a great thing, especially in a place like Cambodia. It must be so difficult if you want to reach the next level in music. Usually that’s leaving the place you’re from. It’s always about leaving, even for me: I was raised in Italy; I studied in Italy; I went to the conservatory for 10 years of training and work, but where was it I really developed as a musician? When I left and went to Russia. That was an incredible experience: it was 1993 and everything was super cheap. I got a copy of all 32 Beethoven sonatas for about 85 cents. Beethoven wouldn’t have been impressed.
And you managed not to get kidnapped by Russian agents.
[In broad Russian accent] Actually, vot I vonted to tell you today… My name is actually Boris and I play ze tuba. Ze piano voz a cover.
Speaking of mysterious disappearances, remember the album you gave me last time you were here: No Smoking? My favourite track – and perhaps the greatest track title of all time – is Dismembering You.
Oh, really? It was a dream. I dreamed very vividly that I had killed somebody and it was very, very vivid. I woke up in the morning and felt terrible because I’d killed somebody. I went to the bathroom and I couldn’t look in the mirror because I felt so bad. I guess that feeling somehow comes out a little bit in the song. There was that side of it then there was also the poem, which I guess is more about identity in a way: what you are and where that is located. It’s not in your eyes; it’s not in your arms. Where is the source of Phoenix Jay? Where is the source of Julian Gargiulo?
Here’s an idea: how would you define you in the length of a Hollywood film pitch – that’s 25 words or less?
Hey, I thought that was your job!
Look, I have to fill at least 2,500 words. You’ve only got 25. Must I do everything?
It’s very difficult to speak about yourself. You should know that. I think I would do much better interviewing people. This is my true calling in life.
You certainly write well. I was reading one of your columns earlier; the piece about writing – or rather, not writing – a masterpiece. One of my favourite bits was the biography at the end. Perhaps that could be your Hollywood pitch, although we might have to cut a couple of words: ‘Julian Gargiulo is a pianist and composer who divides his time between wishing sabre-toothed tigers weren’t extinct and making paper pirate hats out of his old bios.’ Twenty-eight words. We’ll cut your name out.
[Laughs] That’s perfect! I think I need to update that. I wrote it late at night.
Speaking of which, what can we get up to this trip? We took you for your first Khmer BBQ last time. Come to see my punk band?
Good idea! Do you provide the earplugs? ‘Earplugs sold separately.’ That would be a good title for an album…