Piano Scores

You know how much I love sheet music. Every album in my repertoire has been given its own object.

I compose from emotion, by instinct, by ear. The writing comes after. It is patient, meticulous work, where every detail counts.

My scores have a plain cover and ink-sprayed edges. A minimal typeface. Transcriptions drawn with fine lines. They are made to stay open on a piano, and to be looked at before they are played.

If I put so much care into the scores I publish, it is because the physical object is the first mark of respect you give your own work. And because the beauty of a score is part of the musical experience.

Faced with a new book, three things will tell you whether a piece is within your reach.
First, rhythmic density: simple figures — quarter notes, half notes, even eighths — are more accessible than syncopated rhythms or complex subdivisions. Then the span of the movements: a piece where the hands stay in a narrow zone of the keyboard asks for less spatial bearing than one with wide leaps. Finally, the independence of the hands: when the two hands play different rhythms or distinct lines, coordination becomes a further challenge.

My advice is to always start with a piece slightly below your maximum level. That margin will let you work on expression, on sound and on dynamics, instead of fighting technique. Better to play a simple piece with intention than a difficult one with tension.

But beyond these markers, trust what calls to you. The best piece to work on is often the one that echoes what you are going through. It is in that intimate connection that the will to keep going is born.