A Romantic Journey

Imogen Cooper’s considerable reputation has been carved by her refined, majestic interpretations of late Classical repertoire. But now, she tells Jessica Duchen, it’s time to shake things up a bit with a little help from Liszt and Wagner

- Jessica Duchen

Between the big-blocked estates and snaking side-streets of Maida Vale, Imogen Cooper has found a small oasis that is a solitary pianist’s dream come true. ‘Stephen Hough came house-hunting with me and said I had to get this place – it’s perfect for a musician,’ she remarks. In her fan-shaped studio, among paintings, bookshelves and a garden full of trees, she can practise to her heart’s content. ‘I’m a great sleeper, so I usually don’t carry on till 3am,’ she remarks, ‘but this part of the house is not attached to next door, so I can work late without disturbing anybody.’

Cooper is one of those rare and special musicians whose artistic stature has always been high, yet never stops growing and developing. Indeed, many of her admirers feel she is now in her prime, reaching the stratospheres in new and wonderfully inspiring ways. She is the first to admit that she has perhaps taken a ‘slow burn’ approach. For many years her listeners associated her primarily with the Viennese classics – Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert in particular – although her interpretations of, for example, Schumann and Janacek indicated something very interesting was afoot beyond. But slow cooking can sometimes produce the tastiest results. In her sixties, Cooper has been turning at last to Chopin and Liszt, revealing a vibrant Romanticism with a powerful, personal voice. Was there a closet Romantic lying in wait all the time? ‘Definitely,’ she beams.