Strings Magazine interview with Janine Jansen

Here. (Her official website.)



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Janine Jansen Photoshoot 'Janine' Magazine

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Janine Jansen: The Bach Album


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Mozart Violin Concerto (Part 1 of 5)

Janine Jansen

I was introduced to her through BMG Music, but I have not yet heard her recordings nor have I purchased any... Another "hot babe who can play an instrument"? Exactly whom are the record companies trying to attract by packaging artists such as her? Men who would otherwise not be interested in classical music? Or do they think there are classical music afficianados out there who are also hot-blooded men, usually sticking to favorites but susceptible to the right sort of influence that will lead them to try something new?

Apparently, the marketing ploy has worked, since she has been receiving a lot of attention through iTunes and her photos. Now she may be a first-rate talent, but does her image make her less credible of a figure? Or does it help make classical music more mainstream? As to the last question, I would speculate, "No."

Bio.

Her official website. Photos from her official website. Dutch website.

A larger pic of her in the black dress. A copy of a signed photo. Some large photos: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. (Spectrum Concerts press photos.)



Andante article:

A Prodigy? 'The Word Means Nothing to Me' - Violinist Janine Jansen
By Michael Church

All the world loves a fiddle prodigy, particularly if it's a pretty young female. One thinks of Vanessa-Mae, pioneer of wet T-shirts, and one thinks of Sarah Chang, burdened at nine with Yehudi Menuhin's alarming accolade, 'the most wonderful, the most perfect, the most ideal violinist I have ever heard'. And the buzz about Janine Jansen, who opens the Proms next week, runs true to form. While conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy proclaims that 'this young woman has everything', Decca is marketing the 27-year-old as sophisticated jail-bait.

Jansen brushes away all talk of prodigies — 'that word means nothing to me' — and has no interest in her commercial image. 'The promoters may see it as an image of me, but I do not.'

But when I ask how she's avoided the unsightly scar that most violinists collect under the left side of their jaw, she confesses to having done some touching-up of her own. 'I can laugh about it now, but when I was 10 all the other young violinists around me had huge brown bruises, and I had none. So I got out my mum's makeup and painted on brown eyeshadow to show I was like the others. My mum went mad, but it did look impressive.'

We are talking in the foyer of a smart hotel in Rome, where she is to lead a chamber concert.

The concert is a select affair in a gorgeous villa for an audience of rich philistines, and the noisy air-conditioning doesn't allow us to savour her characteristically sweet tone. But even watching her is a joy — urging on her colleagues with fiery glances, alternately frowning or swooning in response to the cues in Brahms's passionate score. And the reality has nothing to do with Decca's image. This is no provocative semi-infant — Jansen is a tall and commanding woman with a down-to-earth manner, which she ascribes, with a laugh, to being Dutch.

To begin at the beginning, what is her first musical memory? 'All my first memories are musical; I remember nothing else. My grandfather conducted a church choir, my father was his organist, and they used to give concerts every Saturday afternoon, so I was in church a great deal of the time. I was singing in the choir before I could read, standing next to my mum. She is a soprano who sacrificed her career to look after us, but she sang solos in church. At home we made music all the time.

'My father also plays the harpsichord and piano, and my brother, who is five years older than me, plays the cello. I wanted to play it, too — the cello is still one of my favourite instruments — but they decided it would be nice to have somebody playing a different instrument, so that we could play together.' One day she went to a concert of junior violinists, and from that moment was hooked.

She started lessons at six, and won her first competition at 10, after which, in her first press interview, she casually remarked that she never did more than two-and-a-half hours' practice a day. That was a mistake, as her teacher was cross when she read it — the correct answer should have been four. She played soccer with the boys and led a completely unprodigy-like existence, until she decided at 16 to enter the conservatory and go for broke.

Winning Holland's most prestigious music award, she chose to spend the money on lessons with that great but greatly unassuming chamber pianist, Menachem Pressler. 'He's all ears, pure receptivity,' she comments. 'He is the music. He makes it so direct that you smile inside.' On the other hand, her memories of a masterclass with the great Isaac Stern are shot through with a still unexorcised pain. Why so? 'He was not with me on stage, he was sitting in the audience with a microphone, just shouting from the stalls. He said I was not being serious, that I was just showing off. Well, that hurt me a lot. Music is so much part of me.' For a long time she brooded on that judgment, but finally decided that all she could do was be true to herself.

A born leader, she has set up her own annual Christmas chamber music festival. 'I said either it works, or nobody will show up. But they did, so we went on.'

She's just roped in her father, brother and boyfriend, violinist Julian Rachlin, for a recording of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons which manages to say something new about that hackneyed work. And as we speak, her boyfriend arrives from Brazil. He bustles over, looking smaller and more vulnerable than her.

Then, after a tender kiss on the lips, she turns to me in triumph. 'You see, it's true — we do fly to hear each other's concerts!'

Are they competitive? 'No. It has never come up.'

So do they practise together in their new home in Vienna? 'Yes. Sometimes we even practise in the same hotel room, though one of us does go into the bathroom.'

How do their styles differ? She thinks hard, then: 'We're both very passionate and direct in our playing, but we play Baroque music differently. He has more vibrato, his playing is more Romantic, and mine is more authentic — though I hate that word.'

That seemingly effortless authenticity is what we shall doubtless get when she opens this year's Proms. At her Royal Albert Hall debut two years ago, she played Vaughan Williams's The Lark Ascending. This time it's Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto. 'I love the piece, and I love the place where I shall be playing it.'

A Times review.

Article from The Independent:

Though people didn't realise it at the time, Radio 3's Beethoven week marked a turning point for the record industry: the 1.4 million free downloads of the symphonies made in the ensuing fortnight highlighted a trend that is growing at an exponential rate. And while Russell Watson and Andrea Bocelli are predictably high in the iTunes charts, the most prominent iTunes instrumentalist is a young Dutch fiddler named Janine Jansen. Sales of her new Vivaldi record are, says Decca's vice-president, Jonathan Gruber, a "digital phenomenon".

Why her? "I attribute it to many factors," he says. "It was a brilliant recording, which people have had a chance to experience in an immediate way. Buying it is just two clicks away from the image of the album. An album feature page on the iTunes site offers you the chance to learn a little about her and to listen to 30 seconds of very high-quality playing, and then to download a track for 99 cents. People find the whole package appeals to them - a fresh version of the work, from a fresh talent, presented in a new way."

Three-quarters of this record's sales have been digital, "but those have had a good effect on physical sales, too, as not everyone buys downloads. So the two sales modes are developing together - one doesn't substitute for the other."

The Vivaldi sales clearly depend on a number of hooks, only one of which is the quality of Jansen's playing: those images on iTunes play a big part. In one, she's pictured leaning seductively back in an armchair and tossing her violin over her shoulder, as though she has more exciting things in mind; in another, she poses provocatively on a carpet, her violin again an afterthought. We get the point, and Decca hear the ping of the cash register.

Back in the early Eighties, it was exciting enough to Western punters that a violinist should be a tiny, pretty infant, with talent as a bonus. When the nine-year-old Sarah Chang burst on to the scene, that excitement was offset by Yehudi Menuhin's ecstatic accolade, "the most perfect violinist I have ever heard". When Chang acquired feminine curves, marketing men presented her in an overtly provocative way; luckily, her playing was good enough to transcend that.

Then came the notorious Vanessa-Mae, whose playing had less potency than her looks. And after her was Leila Josefowicz, a first-class fiddler temporarily knocked off course by being made the face of Chanel's Allure perfume. Debate is currently raging over the Scottish prodigy Nicola Benedetti: she may have a £1m recording contract, but the critical jury is still out.

Jansen's sex-kitten marketing is par for the course, but in reality she's a tall, commanding 28-year-old with a down-to-earth manner that she ascribes, with a laugh, to her nationality. And she's a consummate musician. By never forcing her tone, she forces our close attention on every note; she shapes her phrases with infinite subtlety, and her sound can be as sweet, sad or sexy as the occasion demands. In chamber music, she's a natural leader, urging on her colleagues with fiery glances, in response to the cues in the score. She's also a leader in another sense: when she presented her Vivaldi Seasons at the Wigmore Hall last autumn, her father, brother and boyfriend, Julian Rachlin, were all playing in the band.

I ask her about her first musical memory. "All my first memories are musical - I remember nothing else," she replies. "My grandfather conducted a church choir, my father was his organist, and they used to give concerts every Saturday afternoon, so I was in church a great deal of the time. I was singing in the choir before I could read, standing next to my mum."

At home, the family made music all the time, with harpsichords, a piano and an organ filling every available space. "My elder brother played the cello, and as I looked up to him I wanted to play it too - and it's still one of my favourite instruments. But they decided it would be nice to have somebody playing a different instrument, so that we could play together.

"One day I went to a concert of children playing the violin, and became instantly hooked - I knew for certain that it was going to be my instrument. But that didn't stop me doing normal things, like playing soccer with the boys." Her English is impeccable, and her delivery measured.

She brushes away all talk of prodigies - "That word means nothing to me" - and disowns her touched-up commercial photos: "The promoters may see them as an image of me, but I do not." But when I ask how she has avoided the unsightly scar that most violinists collect under the left side of their jaw, she confesses to having once done some touching-up of her own.

"I can laugh about it now, but when I was 10, all the other young violinists around me had huge brown bruises, and I had none. So I got out my mum's make-up, and painted on brown eyeshadow to show I was like the others. My mum went mad - 'Are you squeezing your violin too much with your chin? You must be doing something wrong!' But it did look impressive."

Prodigy or not, her trajectory via the Utrecht conservatory has been uninterruptedly smooth, with honours and prizes raining down. Vladimir Ashkenazy was one of many conductors who were instantly smitten - "In my opinion, this young woman has everything." When one prize brought in some serious cash, she spent it all on lessons with the chamber pianist Menachem Pressler: "That man is pure receptivity - he is the music."

Meanwhile, her own chamber festival in Holland is thriving: "I wanted the freedom to make my own programmes, and to invite my favourite players. We hold it in December, when the concert season is over, and when it's family time. I said, 'Either it works, or nobody will show up.' But they did, so we've gone on."

At this point in our conversation, her face lights up: "Hey, there's Julian, just arrived from Brazil." He bustles over, looking smaller and more vulnerable than her. Then, after a tender kiss on the lips, she turns to me in triumph: "You see, it's true - we do fly to hear each other's concerts!" He goes off to sleep, and she talks on about their life together. When I ask if they are competitive, she firmly says no. But how do they manage not to be? "It never comes up."

How do their styles differ? She thinks hard, then: "We're both very passionate and direct in our playing, but we play Baroque music differently. He has more vibrato: his playing is more Romantic. Mine is more authentic - though I hate that word."

That seemingly effortless authenticity is what we get every time she puts bow to string on her 1727 Strad. Comforting news for Decca, even if their photos are not authentic. And good news for the Proms, where she'll doubtless appear this summer.

Bits and pieces

Janine Jansen faces the music on her first American tour

By Steve Smith

PICTURE PERFECT Janine Jansen's glamorous image has caught the public's eye.
Photo: Mitch Jenkins

Among the various things a promising young violinist might do to attract attention in the saturated American market, releasing a new recording of Vivaldi's The Four Seasons would seem to be low on the list. Remarkably, however, that's precisely how Dutch musician Janine Jansen, 27, is making a splash. Admittedly, Jansen's effort is unlike any other that came before it. Where a routine performance can turn the piece into quaint audio wallpaper, Jansen renders the work as hyperactive chamber music, with each section of Vivaldi's orchestra represented by a single player.

"A couple of years ago, I did the Bach violin concerti in this very small chamber-music group, and it just felt so much more flexible in everything—in sound, in timing," Jansen explains on the phone from San Francisco, where she'd played the Mendelssohn concerto the previous evening. (When she appears with the New Jersey Symphony on Friday 2 and Saturday 3, she'll be playing Benjamin Britten's concerto, a rare, ravishing piece.) "A piece like the Four Seasons should really have this freedom in timing. And you need to have this transparency, to hear all the voices and just be free."

It's probably no coincidence that Jansen's ensemble sounds tightly knit—the group includes her father on harpsichord and organ, her older brother on cello and her boyfriend, noted violinist Julian Rachlin, on viola. A performer of exacting technique and opulent tone, Jansen isn't afraid to sound rough and dirty as the music dictates. While the players all use modern instruments, their light, lithe and precise reading brings the piece to life in a way seldom heard outside of period- instrument performances.

"I love period instruments, and I've been in contact with that a lot because of my father and my uncle, who is a Baroque singer," Jansen says. Nor is it likely that she could have been trained as a musician in Holland without encountering early-music figureheads Ton Koopman and Frans Brüggen. In fact, she's played Mozart concertos with the latter. "I like very much his idea of sound," Jansen says. "And for me, the most important thing is to get this feeling, this breathing, in the music. That is more important than whether it is on period instruments or modern."

That accounts for the freshness and vivacity in Jansen's recording; more difficult to explain is the phenomenal success the recording has encountered in the digital domain. Not only has Jansen's Four Seasons often been the top seller among classical recordings on iTunes, it has even cracked the overall iTunes charts, landing one week at No. 19 between pop stars Kelly Clarkson and David Gray. To date, 91 percent of Jansen's sales with this title have come via downloading. The violinist herself is at a loss to explain. "I don't even have an iPod!" she says, laughing. "I don't actually know enough about it to have a theory, but it's wonderful to see."

Some of Jansen's online success is surely due to Decca's corporate parent, Universal Classics, a company that has embraced digital downloading more aggressively than virtually any other classical major label. A strategically placed banner on iTunes might lure non-specialists curious about The Four Seasons, leveling the playing field on which a newcomer competes with every other violinist who's ever recorded the piece.

And then there are those photos. The CD booklet is filled with gorgeous shots of the undeniably lovely violinist, lounging demurely in a diaphanous gown. Universal is also using those images in its marketing campaign, which includes its iTunes presence. Where older consumers might assume the emphasis on glamour masks a deficit of talent—which is definitely not the case—younger buyers steeped in pop-culture imagery aren't likely affected by that type of mistrust.

"I put so much of myself into making a beautiful recording," Jansen says, suggesting that it only follows she would want her CD to look attractive, as well. "I enjoyed having those pictures taken—it was a wonderful English photographer, and I had a lot of fun." That the packaging should be subject to scrutiny puzzles her. "When I buy a record, I buy it for what's on it," she firmly asserts, "not what it looks like."

Blog entry from the author of the previous article, "Don't hate her because she's beautiful."

How long will she be on the music scene?