4 questions to
Sylvie Courvoisier
1
You’re a Swiss pianist, but you’ve built your career mainly in New York, where you’ve lived for years. What encounters were pivotal when you arrived there at a very young age—and later on as well?
I graduated from the Lausanne Conservatory in 1993 and began what one might call a “career”—even though I don’t particularly like that word—first in Switzerland and Europe, between 1994 and 1998. During those years, I toured and recorded in Europe, notably with my “Sylvie Courvoisier Quintetto,” made up of young musicians I’d met at Siena Jazz when I was still very young, as well as with friends from Lausanne. I also worked on various projects, such as Sylvie Courvoisier Ocre, featuring Pierre Charial’s barrel organ and other musicians in Europe, as well as with Jacques Demierre and Lucas Niggli.
It was also during this period that I began working with the label Intakt Records, with whom I’ve been collaborating for over thirty years now and with whom I’ve released more than twenty albums. It’s a very important relationship in my career.
When I arrived in New York in 1998, I quickly felt that I was in the right place. New York isn’t really representative of the United States: it’s a city that attracts musicians and artists from all over the world. There’s an incredible concentration of personalities, cultures, and styles—and above all, a great musical curiosity. The level of talent is very high, but what drew me in most of all was the possibility of not having to choose a single musical identity.
Certain encounters were essential for me—musically, of course, but also on a personal level: John Zorn, Mark Feldman, Erik Friedlander, Kenny Wollesen, Drew Gress, Ikue Mori, Suite Ibarra, Mary Halvorson, Ned Rothenberg, Nasheet Waits, Wadada Leo Smith, among others. These are people with whom I’ve been able to play, improvise, and record, but also simply spend time, talk, and reflect on music.
I believe what has influenced me the most are the people who have given me the freedom to be myself. I’ve never really wanted to fit into a specific category. I love contemporary classical music—especially Sofia Gubaidulina and Ligeti—but also Paul Bley, Cecil Taylor, Thelonious Monk, and Geri Allen. All of this is part of who I am. Over time, these influences have become the backbone of my own musical language, but I’m always looking to develop it further.
2
You’ve been kind enough to stop by La Vetrina with an exceptional vinyl record by an artist we’re featuring. Can you tell us how this project with Sophie Bouvier Ausländer came about, given that you’ve exclusively recorded CDs up until now?
The project grew out of my album *Angel Falls*, which I recorded with the creative maestro and trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith. Up until then, I had indeed mostly recorded CDs. But I’ve always loved the connections between music and the visual arts, and I immediately loved the idea of turning this album into something you could also look at and touch.
With Sophie Bouvier Ausländer, it truly became a dialogue between two artistic practices. She didn’t just create an image for the cover—she worked directly on the covers themselves, using paint, layers, and texture. And every copy is different.
There are 200 copies, all numbered and signed, and Sophie created an original painting on each one. You can really see the different layers of paint and the traces of her brushstrokes. It’s something I really love because it makes each record unique. It’s no longer just a reproduction of a work of art: everyone who buys the vinyl also owns an original work of art.
I really love the idea that music can transcend its mere auditory format and become a physical object—something you keep, look at, and touch. That strikes me as particularly beautiful today, in an era when we listen to so much music in a digital format.
3
Last year, your home country awarded you the 2025 Swiss Music Grand Prix, and you also received a prestigious award in your adopted country, the United States. How significant is this recognition for your career? Does it open doors for you?
These two awards touched me in quite different ways.
The Swiss Music Grand Prix moved me particularly because Switzerland remains a very important part of my identity, even though I’ve lived in New York for a long time. Receiving this recognition after all these years made me feel that the connection to my home country was still there. It was quite emotionally powerful.
The award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters was significant in a different way. In particular, it allowed me to create *Amalthea*, a project that was truly close to my heart. And for me, that’s perhaps the most valuable aspect of recognition: when it enables you to do something you might not otherwise have been able to do.
Of course, these awards can open certain doors, draw attention to your work, or help you meet new people. But I don’t think about that much. What moves me more is feeling that my work—which is often very personal and sometimes quite difficult to categorize—has resonated with people somewhere.
4
You have a very busy life… You’re also a composer and teacher, in addition to being a performer who’s often on tour. How do you manage to juggle all these activities?
I don’t know if I really manage to juggle everything… but I try!
I’ve never really been able to separate these different activities, because they’re all part of how I experience music. When I play, certain things I hear or discover feed into my composing. And when I compose, it inevitably changes the way I play. Teaching is also part of that balance.
I really enjoy interacting with younger musicians. I find it very stimulating, because their questions or their perspective can sometimes make me reflect on my own music. This year, in particular, I have two mentees, and I really appreciate this relationship. I also regularly perform my colleagues’ compositions, and I get a lot out of that. I think, above all, I remain curious.
I’ve never built my life around a career plan. Instead, I’ve followed the projects, musicians, and encounters that drew me in, often without knowing where they would lead me. Looking back, I realize that many important things happened that way—a bit by surprise.
And then, over the years, I’ve learned to say no. It’s not always easy, especially when there are so many projects that interest you. But I believe it’s become essential to make time to work alone, to reflect, and above all, to keep the desire to create alive.