Listening to Gonzales on a record is a beautiful thing, it’s calming and at times alarming. Seeing him live, on the other hand, is a combination of hearing the science of music firsthand and being highly entertained. Yes, entertained. He is, after all, an entertainer. Gonzales is also a musical genius and if he was not a self-proclaimed one, someone would have named him as such out loud. News publications have wondered if he was a madman, but today that whole cocky confession is a joke which Gonzales shares with the audience during a live show. He admits he lives in his own fantasy.

In 2012, Gonzales released Solo Piano II, an album that, without understatement, brought modern classical music into the pop culture world. Since then he has worked on a collaboration with Daft Punk and more recently with Boys Noize on Octave Minds where his piano songs turn to, in his own words, “bangers.” Last month “Gonzo” released Chambers, an album that was written specifically for Germany’s Kaiser Quartett, who introduced him to chamber music.

The album is a modern take on the burgeoning middle class Chamber music coloured by the vivid strings of the Kaiser Quartett. This collaboration is not a surprise – the quartet are an incredibly talented bunch joined by an equally talented English drummer, Joe Flory, in the back “keeping it snappy.” Just past the half point of the 2 hour show, the group of them played out a full track in complete, “sexually romantic” darkness with only a few moments of spotlight on Joe playing a trumpet. Even in blindness the music was seamless.

Toronto’s Koerner Hall is one of the best sounding venues in Canada, if not the world, and it is also a part of The Royal Conservatory of Music, where Gonzales studied, so it was a “very touching homecoming.” With a short introduction, Gonzales entered the stage in his signature robe and sleepers and proceeded straight into Solo Piano II. After a brief solo performance he was joined by the Kaiser Quartett to play a few tracks from Chambers, starting with “Sweet Burden” and “Odessa.” While Gonzales is vigorously using all of the keys with dramatic and aggressive precision, the Kaiser foursome bring a new level of emotion to his music with urging and tearful strings that produce an unimaginable variety of sounds under Chilly’s direction. Quartett’s introduction was a demonstration of the said variety of musical notes and techniques with a visual description by Chilly: “It’s like a sneaky mouse getting it’s cheese – he-he-he.”

“Advantage Points,” one of the tracks from Chambers, was an intensely powerful performance. You can imagine the breadth of sound while listening to it on your iPod, but that will never compare to what it actually sounds like live, with every note hitting the audience like a dart. Overall, Chambers is a fairly heavy album with dramatic high notes and unexpected turns. As the tension was beginning to build up, Gonzales brought out his bongos, stating that he was a fan of music reduction, saying more with less, which inevitably lead to the charmingly offensive “Bongo Monologue.”  As in every Gonzales show, in between the clean, wonderful piano, there is an occasional rap. At a later point, with the audience participating in the hum-along, Gonzo also rapped “Supervillain Music,”  “The Grudge” from Ivory Tower and “(I’m not) A Musical Genius” during the anchor.

After playing compositions from across his entire repertoire, not playing “Hotel California,” teaching a few lessons, rapping while standing on the piano (a luxury Glenn Gould Studio didn’t allow a few years back), and playing a 2-song anchor, Chilly Gonzales wrapped up the show with two standing ovations.

Even with the discography Chilly carries not many people know who he is, but once they find out they never forget. The next show is already anticipated.

The post The (fun) science of music with Chilly Gonzales and the Kaiser Quartett appeared first on Quip Magazine.

The self-proclaimed music genius made a two-hour set – the latest instalment of his Piano Talk Show series – feel like 20 minutes through the sheer power of his charisma, wit, and musical prowess, combining equal parts concert, music-theory lesson, and stand-up comedy. In essence, on stage, Chilly “Gonzo” (as he repeatedly called himself) is like an otherworldly cross between George Gershwin, George Carlin, and Eminem.

It all started conventionally enough. Gonzales entered stage left, dressed in his usual silk bathrobe and green slippers, to a hushed audience of retired couples and 20- and 30-something urbanites. He smiled, bowed, and immediately went into three unaccompanied instrumental piano tunes. His hair flailed as his fingers raced up and down the keys while remaining fluent. At one point in the third song, Gonzales pounded the piano with such force, he lifted himself off the piano bench on impact.

As impressive as these early displays of outstanding musical ability were, one was left wondering when the show would really begin. After all, when you read about Chilly Gonzales, much attention is given to how outrageously entertaining he is live. But once he pulled the microphone in to introduce the Fuck Luck Philharmonic Orchestra – actually three violinists and a cello player, “Fuck Luck” seems to be a name Gonzales gives to every group of musicians that accompany him – it was apparent that the Chilly Gonzales I’d read about had arrived.

For the next hour and 45 minutes he barely let up. In his typically arrogant-yet-comical way, Gonzales expounded on the lack of ambition in indie music: the various hip hop slang terms for money, his conscious decision to become a “hater” of fellow-Canadian Drake, how rap reflects culture, and why major chords are for fascists.

One of Gonzales’ most outstanding feats is his ability to rap while accompanying himself on the piano, sometimes with very complicated arrangements. Keenly aware that a 40-year-old, half-Jewish piano virtuoso could never be taken seriously as a conventional rap artist – despite being a talented wordsmith and rhymer – Gonzales keeps his lyrics overly boastful and irreverent, to the point that they’re comical.  Even 40- and 50-something white guys who’ve never heard of Lil’ Wayne were in stitches as Gonzales rapped lines like “If you don’t like rap let’s face it/you probably hate this/you probably racist/we can debate if it’s tasteless/but I’m not a musical rapist.”

Gonzales didn’t just combine genres and styles to stunning effect; he combined songs. Enlisting the four members of the Fuck Luck Orchestra, he had the cello player play the bass line to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust, while the violinists took parts from songs such as Brittany Spear’s Toxic and Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean while Gonzales rapped, played the piano, and conducted. Simply, it was mesmerizing.

Always the consummate showman, Gonzales regularly engaged the audience, bringing members on stage for lessons on improvisations and simplicity. Of course, he also took the opportunity to make jokes at their expense and (jokingly) yelled at one girl to “stop fucking giggling” while he taught her a bass line.

As well, apparently in the CBC’s bad book for standing on and laying in the piano the last time he played the Glenn Gould Studio, Gonzales made a show of reading his contract that specifically prohibited him from repeating the action. Walking up the aisle, reading lines from contract and adlibbing things like “extra-large rolling paper, non-negotiable,” he then announced that he was not prohibited from crowd surfing. Now, seeing a grown man in a bathrobe and slippers crowd surf across a theatre full of well-groomed retirees is an unusual sight, to say the least. But when the crowd sloppily returned him to his piano bench where he proceeded to play with his feet, it’s just plain impressive.

While the antics and the humor are what make the show so memorable, it’s the fact that Gonzales may well be the musical genius he claims to be that really adds impact. After all, many performers can play the piano, many tell jokes, many engage in witty banter, and many crowd surf, but very few combine all these elements with jaw-dropping musical ability and knowledge. They’re those seemingly contradictory notions – the wild and often lewd entertainer versus the intricate and ingenious piano master – that make Gonzales one of the most original and enthralling performers around.

I’ve never seen anything like Chilly Gonzales before that night and probably won’t again until I see him next.

The post Experiencing Chilly Gonzales live at CBC Glenn Gould Studio appeared first on Quip Magazine.

Piano virtuoso, composer, producer, rapper, rocker, comedian, actor, director, and jazz master. To most, Chilly Gonzales is an incredibly difficult artist to summarize, but if you ask the man himself, it’s quite easy: he’s simply an “entertainer.”

As the 40-year-old self-professed musical genius, born Jason Beck in Montreal, Chilly has earned worldwide acclaim for being one of the best piano players of his generation but also for turning the popular idea of what a “piano virtuoso” should look and sound like on its ear.

As such, he demands an unusual amount of patience and open-mindedness from his fans. From one album to the next, Chilly’s music swerves between classical, rock and roll, jazz, dance, hip-hop, and pop. He’s even written and starred in a satirical existential film about a chess master (with cameos from fellow Canadians and long-time friends Feist and Peaches), entitled Ivory Tower.

In concert, Chilly dons a bathrobe and slippers and punctuates the performance with stories, rants, and jokes, engaging the audience in a performance that lies somewhere between concert, comedy show, and musical lesson. But through it all, his uncanny ability on the piano remains the one constant.

This self-styled, larger-than-life character and world record holder for longest solo artist performance (27 hours, three minutes, and 44 seconds) is now back on the road with his infamous Piano Talk Shows. Also, later this year he’ll be releasing Solo Piano II, the follow-up of his critically acclaimed 2004 instrumental album Solo Piano. Luckily for us, Chilly agreed to answer a few of Quip’s questions. Here’s what he had to say:

Michael: When did you know you could turn your talent on the piano into a career and how did this change your outlook on life?

Chilly Gonzales: The moment I learned what a career was, it was obvious it should be something I loved and was good at. It wasn’t long before the piano became that focus. And when I learned that I could entertain people with it, I couldn’t believe my luck.

MR: Depending on the song, you incorporate elements of almost all genres – rock, dance, rap, jazz, classical, and pop – into your music – very unusual for a classically trained piano virtuoso. As an artist, how did you arrive at the bizarre combination of sounds?

CG: I’m a creature of pop music who just so happened to get interested in the science of music. But I never embraced classical training. It was just a way to get better so I could join the ranks of my heroes on Much Music. I just tried to learn the gestures of great European music so I can make more colorful American music (pop, which includes jazz, rap, and “rock” as you call it).

MR: How did your time in the ’90s’ indie band Son influence both your music and career as a solo performer?

CG: It was the origin of my supervillain story, where the lightning hit the lab, so to speak. I had a traumatic, dramatic couple of years in which I lost my idealistic illusions about being an artist. I decided to be an entertainer, even if I carried a grudge in my heart about it. Maybe in a perfect world, I could be a polite, well-behaved, grateful artist without an ego. But for better or worse, I live in the real world.

MR: How much of your onstage persona is your natural self and how much is a character you play?

CG: One is an entertaining exaggeration of the other. That’s the idea anyway; my therapist might have a more nuanced answer.

MR:  Montreal has a long and storied artistic history and continues to have a thriving music scene. As well, I’ve been told by other musicians that there is an “anything goes” mentality to the Montreal arts scene. How did living and going to school in Montreal influence your own work?

CG: I left Monty when I was eight, so the influence would be subconscious at best. Later, when I returned as a McGill composition student, I felt like I was that much closer to Europe compared to Toronto. As far as “anything goes,” as a creative mantra, I think that’s a terrible attitude to be proud of. Creativity is about limits. Maybe in a sense of lifestyle, Berlin and Montreal and cheaper big cities have an “anything goes” advantage.

MR: Why did you decide to move to Paris?

CG: Career move. Going pro in Europe. It couldn’t be done in Berlin.

MR: In past interviews, you’ve criticized government grants for artists. At the recent Canadian Music Week conference, artists in attendance were regularly encouraged by speakers and panelists – both Canadians and not – to take advantage of the grants that the Canadian government offers unsigned artists. Why would you discourage a struggling artist from accepting a government grant so they could afford to tour, and how does this differ from selling a song to a commercial just for the paycheque?

CG: The difference is that a company like Apple paying me for Never Stop reflects a reality of usefulness for my music.

The difference is that Apple makes its decisions based on perceived or projected market appeal. The government makes its decisions based on what they think should be market appeal. As in Artist X deserves to be heard but no one wants to hear it – let’s give him money. Artist X now no longer feels motivated to make his music actually listenable.

He has been given a fish, and in the case of a commercial, Apple is teaching me to fish, and so I learn what parts of my musical personality actually connect with people.

Government money should be put into music and arts education, instead of handed to artists without an audience. And I think musicians can go on tour without grants if they’re clever and committed. It’s what most musicians have done since the dawn of time.

English and American bands go on tour without subsidies, and their music industries are suffering less than ours because, I’m sad to say, the musicians don’t have the attitude of expecting a handout.

This is a right-wing notion, and I just want to clarify that I don’t feel this way about essential commodities like clean air, housing, and health care… but music is not an essential commodity. It’s a fucking trifle so let’s not regulate it, okay?

MR: You’re following up 2011’s largely rap album The Unspeakable Chilly Gonzales with an instrumental album Solo Piano II later this year. How do you determine what kind of album you’re going to make? How concerned are you with maintaining an audience or fan base from one project to the next?

CG: I think of my career as a screenplay, and [I] think, What would make a surprising and satisfying next scene? Some scenes complicate the plot, some simplify it. I would say I’m going from a complicated scene to a simpler one right now.

The post The Entertainer. An interview with Chilly Gonzales appeared first on Quip Magazine.