Hania Rani Interview in Japan during 2025 Tour
Hania Rani, is a composer, pianist, and singer from Gdańsk, Poland. As part of her 2025 world tour, Hania performed across both Japan and Australia. While in Japan, Hania spoke with our Kawai Japan team about her unique sound, her interest in upright pianos, and her impressions of Chopin’s music.
This is your second visit to Japan. How did you find the Japanese audience at your Tokyo concert? Were there any memorable moments?
Each visit to Japan is a truly special experience for me. There is something utterly fascinating and inspiring about Japanese culture and people that leaves me feeling nurtured and deeply moved. Performing here is an extension of that experience, as many elements differ from my tours in Europe, North America, or Australia. The Japanese audience is incredibly focused—some might describe them as quiet, but I perceive it as a beautiful attentiveness that fills the air. There’s
a sense that every moment in the room is significant and precious, which naturally makes me want to give my best performance.
The atmosphere before and after the show is also unique, carrying a tangible sense of anticipation and curiosity. As an artist, this kind of reception makes you feel genuinely acknowledged—not just as a performer but as a person, with all the emotions and uncertainties that come with this profession. I was deeply grateful to present my full show, complete with lighting design and video projections, to the Japanese audience.
Your music blends classical, minimalism, jazz, and ambient influences. What inspired you to explore a crossover style beyond traditional classical music? How has your journey shaped the sound you have today?
My music is an ongoing journey through different styles and genres. I have a rich musical background, which has influenced my approach—I see music not as a rigid framework but as an open dialogue with diverse ideas. For me, music is a
medium to explore concepts that extend beyond sound and resonate across past, present, and future. Like visual art, music can be abstract, allowing for deep personal interpretations.
I was raised in a household where music was deeply valued. Though my parents were not musicians, they had a great admiration for music, and sound was always an important presence in our home. At the age of seven, I was sent to music school, where I trained in classical piano for 20 years. Even as I followed this traditional path, my love for all kinds of music remained strong. While studying at the Berlin University of Music, I realized that composing and performing my own pieces brought me the greatest joy. That realization led me to fully dedicate myself to my own creations, and I believe it was the right choice.
How have your diverse musical experiences from childhood influenced your current sound?
Looking back, my early exposure to different musical styles shaped the way I approach composition. Having a classical foundation gave me technical discipline, but I was always drawn to sounds beyond that realm. Over time, I found joy in merging these influences, allowing them to coexist in my music. That openness has become essential to my artistic identity.
You played both a Shigeru Kawai grand piano and a Kawai upright piano in Tokyo. What were your impressions of these instruments? How do you decide between a grand and an upright piano?
For many years, I primarily played grand pianos, as they are the standard in classical music. But one day, someone introduced me to recordings of Nils Frahm playing an upright piano, and it completely changed my perspective. In the classical world, uprights are often seen as inferior, so I had rarely encountered them in a serious performance setting. But I was captivated by their sound—clear yet soft, and beautifully muffled when using felt. This discovery felt so fresh and inspiring that, for a time, I chose to play only uprights, avoiding grand pianos altogether.
After some years, I felt ready to return to the grand piano while also incorporating other keyboards to further expand my sound. I wasn’t interested in imitating one instrument with another but in highlighting their individual characters. That’s why, in my show, I included both the grand and the upright, switching between them to create shifts in tone and texture—sometimes even within a single piece.
You also play a variety of other instruments. How do you perceive the difference in sound between acoustic and electric instruments when composing?
My musical language is deeply rooted in acoustic instruments because I primarily identify as a pianist. My compositions emerge from a physical, visceral dialogue with the instrument. I approach electric instruments in the same way—I like to carefully explore their possibilities to bring out the most vivid and flexible expressions. I’ve been using the Prophet 08 synthesizer for many years. While it’s not an unusual instrument, I still find it endlessly inspiring. Right now, I’m working on a setup with twin synths, and I’m excited to see how much new depth I can uncover.
Have you ever composed music without the piano?
Yes, and I really enjoy it. I compose a lot for film and theater, where directors often encourage me to experiment with different instruments. I especially love working with strings and woodwinds—flutes and clarinets in particular.
Your music often evokes shifting landscapes and colors. How do visuals influence your creative process? Do you draw inspiration from visual elements?
Absolutely. I’m a highly visual person. My father is an architect, which I believe shaped the way I observe the world and my strong interest in visual education. As an only child, I spent a lot of time alone, immersed in an imaginative world, and I see that influence in my music today.
Much of my inspiration comes from visual arts, literature, cinema, and philosophy rather than from music itself. With the accessibility of music today, it’s easy to generate new ideas, but I intentionally limit my listening to avoid repetition. I typically listen to the radio in the morning and revisit favorite classical records in the evening—but sometimes, I crave complete silence. Engaging with different artistic mediums and translating their ideas into my musical language is a daily practice for me. It’s similar to learning a new language—each word becomes vivid, and the effort to fully understand it creates a personal bond. I’m deeply fascinated
by the process of translation and cultural exchange, and I try to recreate that experience in my work.
The post-classical genre has grown significantly in recent years, especially after the pandemic. Why do you think this music resonates so strongly with listeners worldwide?
I think it’s a response to overstimulation—the constant noise, chaotic motion, and even aggression in the modern world. While I see the appeal of post-classical music, any genre that gains mainstream popularity risks becoming formulaic and commercialized. It’s interesting that this movement is only now reaching a broader audience, despite minimalist and repetitive music having existed for decades through composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich. Perhaps their compositions were still too radical for the average listener at the time.
I hope musicians in this genre continue to expand their sonic palette, pushing beyond what could be labeled as ‘easy listening.’ While I respect what modern classical music has brought to our collective sensitivity, if it ever starts to feel too comfortable, that’s a sign we need to shake things up.
As a Polish artist, what does Chopin mean to you? Is there a particular piece that has inspired you?
Like many others, I deeply admire Chopin’s music. I don’t listen to it as often now, but I feel it’s part of my DNA. Studying classical music at the Chopin University of Music in Warsaw was an incredible privilege—it’s where Chopin spent his early years, and where his heart remains. I still follow the Chopin Competition and have immense respect for the incredibly talented musicians who participate. For years, it was my personal dream to enter the competition as well.
There’s something mysterious about Chopin’s music—it feels similar to other Romantic composers, yet it isn’t. It has a unique, almost enigmatic quality that reminds me of Bach’s music, which also seems to transcend human nature. Chopin’s music carries a deep sense of nostalgia, a longing that resonates strongly with people from Slavic countries. That universal emotion might be why his music continues to touch so many hearts.
If you were to give advice to children starting to learn an instrument, what would be your most important message?
Stay curious. Stay humble
