Sofiane Pamart, are you a classical music rebel?
For me, it’s not about rebellion, but about honesty. I grew up in Hellemmes, near Lille. My world revolved around hip hop, traditional Moroccan music, old French chansons and electronic music. Whenever I sat down at the piano, I had all of those with me. And that’s still the case today. I never set out to be different from other classical musicians; I just never tried to follow in their footsteps. I work with artists because I love the worlds they inhabit. I mix genres because it shows who I am. I wear what I wear because that’s just who I am. The piano doesn’t demand that you to identify with a particular group – it’s people who do that.
What does rebellion mean to you?
To remain curious while all around you rewards repetition. I’m rebelling against the autopilot, against the idea that just because something worked once, you should keep doing it the same way over and over again. Each one of my albums has to make me a little scared. This helps me to surpass myself.
What does your music mean to you, and what do you want to express through it?
My music is a handwritten diary. Each piece captures a particular moment – a city, a face, a feeling. I’m not interested in conveying a message. When someone listens to my tracks, like Planet, Letter or Noche, I want them to be transported to an inner place they may not have been to for a long time.
As an artist, do you have to be a brand and live up to expectations?
Artists need to be clear. Clarity comes from knowing who you are. I have a visual identity, a way of presenting my music, and I make decisions about how I perform – but none of that starts with marketing. It starts with taste. With instinct. Marketing merely reinforces these elements. I like to think strategically because it touches on something much deeper, something that means a lot to me.
“You sit down, place your hands on the keys, and you’re suddenly confronted with patience, discipline, emotion and vulnerability. With everything that matters and that we normally avoid.”
You talk about a “piano revolution” and want to make your instrument accessible to new demographics. Why is that important to you?
Because the piano taught me something that has nothing to do with music: to listen to myself. And this isn’t just for musicians; it’s a life skill. When I talk about a “piano revolution”, this is what I mean: the piano is a starting point. You sit down, place your hands on the keys, and you’re suddenly confronted with patience, discipline, emotion and vulnerability. With everything that matters and that we normally avoid. This is what I want to share with as many people as possible. Not to recruit pianists, but to encourage people to understand themselves a little better. Listening to music and turning your attention inwards can have the same effect: it helps you see your surroundings in a different light, and to notice beauty in things you used to just walk past before.
Text: Anna Steinbauer
