Carmen Stefanescu: About mysterious water and adventurous detours

“Detours broaden one’s knowledge of places.”

Kurt Tucholsky’s wisdom is also the motto of Cologne-based pianist Carmen Stefanescu.

She spoke with Teresa Pieschacón Raphael about her new CD Shapes of Water and her exciting and unusual life, which has taken many detours and still does.

Carmen Stefanescu, what does water mean to you?

I love being by the water! I’ll happily throw myself into the Atlantic and see where the waves take me. I must admit, to my shame: I can’t really swim properly at all. Despite swimming lessons during my childhood.

Aren’t you afraid of the water?

Of course! But water is the most mysterious substance of all. We live on a blue planet. We are made of water. Without it, there would be no life. Then there are the depths of the ocean, with their animal and plant life which has by no means been fully explored. Water is simply a mystery to me.

On your new album ‘Shapes of Water’, the waves rise and fall, the sea rages, the rain trickles … So many composers have been inspired by water! From Debussy’s submerged cathedral La Cathédrale engloutie, whose story is based on a Breton legend, to the shimmering water reflections in Reflets dans l’eau. From Ernest Bloch’s wild ocean painting At Sea from 1922 to Amy Beach’s melancholic mood in By the Still Waters. Alexander von Zemlinsky’s Der Wassermann is in turn based on the ballad of the same name by Justinus Kerner. In Mel Bonis’ Il pleut, one can hear the pattering rain. And many more works.

Alongside impressionistic images, you also interpret modern sound visions.

Nobuo Uematsu’s The Boundless Ocean, for example, is pure elemental force! Like a huge wave building up. Its source of inspiration is neither nature nor legend, but a very popular video game called Final Fantasy. I was actually introduced to the composer by a Japanophile student.

On the album, you appear as a ‘sound poet.’ But you can also be very different. You once played keyboards in various rock and pop bands!

Oh yes! The first LP I bought with my own money was Fireball by Deep Purple. I loved it then and I still do now. I also loved the song ‘Smoke on the Water’. It was my first great rock love. I was about 16 at the time. At 18, I fell seriously ill. I had inflammation of the pancreas and spent three weeks in intensive care. After that, I was told: ‘From now on, you can only go on short walks with your parents. You must never smoke or drink alcohol again, and you must never eat fried food again.’ I didn’t want to live that kind of life. At the time, I was in the twelfth grade in Stolberg, near Aachen. I practically dropped out of school and travelled to Italy with friends. I thought, ‘If I’m going to die, then I want it to be quickly.’ That’s a good attitude to life!

What happened next?

I worked as a waitress in pubs because I didn’t want to take money from my parents. At the same time, I took and passed the entrance exam at the Aachen University of Music. I lived in shared apartments all over the place. I was always on the move. Then I met the drummer of a reggae band. The keyboard player had just left. They asked me: “You’re a pianist, wouldn’t you like to join us?” Of course! One band was called Apotheke, and later we were called Wisdom Force. I toured with the guys for about two years. We carried speakers, slept wherever we could. Sometimes even in the car. It was a very cool time. A completely different way of making music than what I knew. I had grown up in Romania, attended a special music school, and later became a junior student at the Aachen University of Music. So until then, I had only been involved in classical music.

You were born in Bucharest

…My father was a doctor and my mother was a sound engineer. I can still picture them rolling up the carpet and dancing to Ray Charles. Despite the totalitarian regime, it was a very lively and beautiful childhood. I felt incredibly protected by my parents. I attended a French kindergarten. One of my mother’s colleagues was a native German from the GDR. She came to our house once a week and spoke German with me.

When and how did your family feel the impact of the Ceaușescu regime?

Even as a child, I could tell that something wasn’t right. ‘Never tell anyone what you hear at home,’ was drilled into me. My parents were very critical of the government and we listened to Radio Europa Liberă (Radio Free Europe). At some point, it became clear that we had to flee. As a child, I was proud to be included in the plan. My grandparents knew nothing about it. At the border between Hungary and Austria, despite not being religious, I prayed to God that our escape would succeed.

Why did you flee first to Israel before coming to Germany?

That’s a very long story. We had officially bought travel tickets to Vienna. In Vienna, we realized that half of our travel group consisted of Securitate agents who were observing us. Austria had a special status in the 1970s, it was a transit country for refugees from the Eastern Bloc but did not grant asylum. We were not safe in the hotel. When my mother and I were out in the city, a man suddenly tried to drag me away. My mother held on to me, passers‑by helped us until the man let go. He was surely from the Romanian secret service. A jeweler couple at Stephansplatz then helped us, and that’s how we ended up in Israel.

What happened then?

We first lived in a kibbutz for about six weeks. My father worked at a hospital in Beersheba. I went to school. My parents were deeply unhappy there, they didn’t like it at all. I, on the other hand, was doing great. I loved hearing the coyotes at night and the scent of jasmine. I was a child. For me, it was an adventure. I also learned to speak Hebrew relatively quickly. Soon we returned to Europe, and Italy was the only country that took us in. My father was determined to work in Germany. Eventually, we ended up in a refugee camp for political asylum seekers in Zirndorf, where we stayed for quite some time. Doctors were needed, so he soon got a position at a hospital in Cham. After a lot of back and forth, we ended up in Stolberg near Aachen. I was almost nine years old at the time. Later, I lived and worked in Leipzig and made many friends. Today, I live with my husband in Cologne, teach piano there and online, and feel that I am finally at home.

Returning once more to your wild youth: What did you take with you for your life today as an artist?

At some point, when I was almost in my late twenties, I had had enough and decided to return to classical music. I resumed my studies. What I took from my wild years is the desire to make music for everyone, not just for a classical audience. In venues that are absolutely untypical for classical music. Everyone should enjoy music in their own way. My dream is to bring classical music down from the pedestal on which it still seems to stand. In my concerts, I try to explain to people why I am playing certain pieces. With the ensemble GOLDKORN, I make cross‑genre music. It’s great fun! “Detours broaden one’s knowledge of places”—Kurt Tucholsky already knew that.

Interview by Teresa Pieschacón Raphael