Julian Steckel in an interview

"I have experienced little envy and selfishness."

Since winning first prize at the 2010 ARD International Music Competition, where Julian Steckel also received the Audience Prize, the Oehms Classics Special Prize, and the Munich Chamber Orchestra Special Prize, he has been one of the most sought-after cellists internationally. In addition to his solo career, he teaches cello as a professor in Rostock and is dedicated to chamber music.

Classicpoint.ch: You took lessons with violinist Antje Weithaas . How did that come about, and what did you learn from her?
I knew Antje Weithaas as my sister Anna Theresa's teacher and as a chamber music partner, and I was musically and personally impressed by her.
Therefore, it was a natural decision for me to continue studying with her. I had the privilege of studying with some of the best cellists and felt the need to gain other perspectives.
The lessons with Antje Weithaas simultaneously supported my existing approach – to get as close as possible to the expression of the work through knowledge of the score, the composer's biography, and their life circumstances, moving from "how something is created, structured, composed" to "what does the work want to tell us and the listeners" – to the essence, the expression, the meaning of a work. At the same time, the time I spent with her was simply very refreshing and liberating for me.

Before your breakthrough win at the ARD Competition, you had won many second prizes and had just been appointed principal cellist of the Radio Symphony Orchestra. Had you already given up hope of winning?
No, I hadn't yet given up hope. I don't mean that I couldn't sleep soundly because I had "only" won second prizes at the major international competitions – but I still felt that my time in the orchestra was just a stepping stone. Looking back at my competition entries before the ARD Competition, I see that the first-prize winners – with few exceptions – are hardly represented in concert life today. So, even back then, it was clear to me that I couldn't automatically expect an immediate entry into concert life from a first prize, even at the ARD Competition.

What were your experiences at the competitions you participated in?
I mainly remember making friends. The young international generation of cellists always met at the cello competitions. Everyone practiced a lot during the day, and afterwards there was a celebration. The longer the competition lasted, the fewer cellists remained, the more people had time off... and the shorter the nights became. Of course, you had to be very focused, but the atmosphere was always friendly; I experienced very little envy or selfishness.
Every now and then, a jury member would fall asleep, which was amusing, of course...

Would it have been impossible to launch a solo career without winning a competition?
Careers have many predictors. The biggest, and unfortunately the most unfair, is luck. This is true in many professions where quality isn't objectively measurable. Great talent is almost always involved, but then things like being popular, being in the right place at the right time—that could be a last-minute replacement, a conductor who believes in you, an agent with the power to arrange important debuts—and great perseverance, composure, and the ability to cope with setbacks also count.
So, even without a competition, I would have had the opportunity to persevere or be "discovered" by someone, but there are never any guarantees. Some careers start off brilliantly, then you don't hear anything from the artist for years. Others wait for decades before suddenly being noticed.

Almost simultaneously with winning the competition, you were also appointed professor in Rostock. Is that the perfect complement to your solo career?
For me, it certainly is! I really enjoy the exchange with the students. Talking and thinking about music is very important to me. I increasingly feel that the ability to associate and the broadest possible knowledge directly enriches one's own emotional and, consequently, expressive world. While I was certainly aware of this as a student, I didn't truly live it and was usually able to successfully rely on my gut feeling, which is just as important! Now I can hardly imagine my musical life without teaching. I find it very exciting to observe and to guide someone's path, their development, until they are more or less independent in the end.

Where did your teachers Pergamenschikow, Schiff, and Rivinius excel in their teaching, and where do you now place your priorities in your own teaching?
Rivinius, Pergamenschikow, and Schiff are all interconnected. Pergamenschikow and Schiff knew each other as young colleagues and frequently sent students to one another. Rivinius studied with Schiff, and Pergamenschikow and Rivinius performed together extensively in the years before Pergamenschikow's death.
But before these prominent cellists stood, and still stands, my perhaps most important teacher, Ulrich Voss.
I came to Rivinius at the age of 16 and was trained by Voss as a cellist for over 10 years in a completely relaxed manner and without any pressure to succeed. Of course, I wasn't "finished," but one never is. However, thanks to this thorough training, I developed a very solid technique and had already performed many of the major concertos by the age of 15 or 16. Furthermore, my repertoire was already quite broad; I had a wide range of music under my fingers, from Bach to Zimmermann. Voss was also my most important mentor on a personal level, not just during that time. Today I can say that I would never have come this far without him. Rivinius, as a former student of Voss, was a natural continuation of this path. I learned a great deal about cello playing from Voss, and from Rivinius I heard what it could sound like. When he played something for me, it was incredibly inspiring – I wanted to sound that rich, that colorful, and that flawless! I was able to learn a great deal from his fantastic playing and soloistic abilities. That was exactly what I needed at that age. He didn't have to explain much to me technically; we worked a lot on the sound, and I expanded my repertoire. I am very grateful to him for giving me time and never putting me under pressure, even though he was very strict and placed great value on consistency. I didn't play in any major competitions during that time, as is often the case with teenagers today, and because I was still in school, I was able to learn in peace.
A year after graduating from high school, I went to Berlin to study with Pergamenschikow in a very small class where every member was at the absolute top level. This was a great incentive and a seamless continuation of my drive to constantly improve on the cello, to learn more, and to become better, more consistent, and more expressive. Pergamenschikow challenged me immensely. I had an incredible amount of instruction, and the "standard" (one of his favorite words) was raised even higher. Pergamenschikow was satisfied with nothing less than perfection. During those two years, he hardly ever spoke about "technique." He always connected his ideas with images, whether from literature, film, or cuisine. This greatly broadened my horizons and my imagination. I try to pass this on in my own teaching today. Alongside these extremely high standards for himself and his students, he was incredibly warm and fair. There are countless stories about everything he did for his students. I am forever grateful to him for his support and, yes, his fatherly love.
After Boris's death, Heinrich Schiff took me into his class. This meant I was studying with another idol of my youth, and from the very beginning I was fascinated by his complex artistic personality, his intense lifestyle, his sensational sound, and the energy he poured into everything he did. I was in my early twenties and, of course, very susceptible to that "all or nothing" feeling: working hard, smoking heavily, and so on. Schiff demanded that everyone, regardless of whether they were already at the beginning of their career or not, go through a technical training program focused primarily, but not exclusively, on bow technique. This occasionally caused problems for some people who considered themselves too good for it. Schiff also warned me before I started with him that his lessons wouldn't be a walk in the park, but that was precisely why I wanted to study with him. This apparent step backwards, however, made me significantly stronger than I had been before. During this time, I had to focus a lot on my already solid musical and technical foundations, questioning many familiar things, adding new ones, and reaffirming them. This same period also coincided with my accident, which cost me several months and a great deal of self-confidence—a crucial phase of doubt, but also of reorientation and self-discovery.
Today, when I teach myself, I realize how important it was to go through all of this. Even though the time wasn't always easy for me, Schiff is one of the greatest cello teachers of all time, and I consider myself fortunate to have learned from these very different, yet interconnected, personalities.

After a scooter accident, your arm was in a cast for three months. What was going through your mind during that time?
The accident was a shock. Up until then, I'd been incredibly lucky. Apart from that, some very important steps were delayed for years. My first CD recording couldn't happen; I was in the best shape of my life and had promising concerts and encounters, but I couldn't seize and capitalize on those opportunities. Naturally, I worried whether I'd ever get back to my best. Not entirely seriously, of course, but I did consider what else I'd like to be besides a cellist... Fortunately, I'd finished school and always had other interests. But the idea of ​​having to take a completely different path after so many years with the clear goal of becoming a cellist seemed very strange. Luckily, I pulled myself together once my arm healed and gradually got back into it. The carefree attitude, the technical nonchalance, that was gone for a while, and it took years until I returned to my old sense of ease.

You've already made several CD recordings with Paul Rivinius. How did this collaboration come about, and what connects you to him?
I've known Paul since I was about five years old. Back then, I went to concerts of his brother Gustav and him with my parents and was a big fan of both of them. When I moved to Berlin, I met him and was looking for a pianist to accompany me to a major competition. Although Paul wasn't doing that anymore at the time, I dared to ask him, and he kindly made an exception for me. The very first rehearsal was an awakening experience for me. I had never experienced the Brahms Sonata in F major like that before. It all felt completely natural and musically familiar, yet entirely new because of the energy and imagination that his playing radiates. When I gradually received more concert offers, it was only natural to ask him. Since then, we've been playing together, traveling a lot together, recording, and simply having a lot of fun.

As a soloist, you travel a lot. Are there any funny anecdotes you've experienced while traveling with your cello?
Traveling with a cello is rather a tedious affair. Check-in takes forever, and every ten seconds you have to explain that you've bought—yes, really paid for—a second seat! At security, there's always someone who doesn't believe the cello will fit through the X-ray machine (no, it hasn't gained weight since the day before yesterday), and fellow passengers are grumpy because you seem to be the only one allowed unlimited hand luggage... but in return, you get two of those delicious in-flight meals!
And no, I'm not going to learn to play the flute in my next life either.

Are there any passions in your life besides music?
Fortunately, I not only enjoy traveling and performing, but I also love being at home. And even though it's not very often, I cherish it and dedicate myself primarily to the pleasures of home, such as cooking and eating, and ordering and drinking wine. I'm also a passionate theatergoer and a big film fan.

What are your next plans?
At the beginning of the year, after a few days off, I'll be teaching my students before traveling to Italy and Frankfurt with the Young German Philharmonic, where I'll be playing Gulda's Cello Concerto. It's basically a constant routine: concerts, teaching, and short breaks at home in between to relax and prepare. In February, however, I'm taking a two-week break from the Berlin winter and will be basking in the sun with my girlfriend in a nice warm spot.


Interview by Florian Schär | Classicpoint.ch | January 5, 2015