Could you tell us about your background and what led you to classical music and the piano?
Nour Ayadi: I was born in Casablanca and grew up in a very music-loving family, even though no one was a musician. I discovered the piano through my older sister, who played before I did. The instrument was already present in our home, and I naturally started playing it. At first, it was just an extracurricular activity, something I enjoyed without ever imagining it would become my profession. The turning point came when my piano teacher in Morocco prepared me for the entrance exam of the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique in Paris. I was admitted, and at sixteen, I left Casablanca to move to Paris and embark on this new musical and academic journey. I completed my high school studies in France while beginning my first years at the Conservatoire. The following year, I was also admitted to Sciences Po, which allowed me to pursue a dual path, balancing my university education with my musical training. I continued this dual track for five years, ultimately earning my master’s degree from Sciences Po. At the same time, I continued to refine my playing by studying with a renowned professor in Switzerland and by joining the Queen Elisabeth Music Chapel in Belgium. Today, my main focus is performance, with concerts and various musical projects.
You recently performed concerts in Boston and New York. What were your first impressions after these experiences in the United States?
Nour Ayadi: It was my first time visiting the United States, and this tour was a major discovery. We all have an image of America shaped by cinema, literature, or popular music, but performing there and meeting audiences firsthand gave me a very different perspective on how classical music is experienced. I found American audiences to be incredibly warm and expressive. Their enthusiasm is immediate, which is quite different from other countries where appreciation can be more restrained. Playing for an audience that reacts spontaneously and openly shares its emotions brings a very special energy to the stage. Another striking aspect was the diversity of the audience—people from all backgrounds, many young people and students. There is a real effort to make classical music accessible to a new generation, notably through partnerships with universities and high schools. I also had the opportunity to introduce my pieces in English, something I rarely do in Europe. It was an interesting exercise and allowed for a more direct connection with the audience. Finally, I chose to perform lesser-known pieces from the classical repertoire and was pleasantly surprised by how warmly they were received. This experience was incredibly enriching and left me eager to return and perform again in the United States.
What is your relationship with your instrument, the piano?
Nour Ayadi: The piano has always been a space of expression for me, a place where I reconnect with myself. I started playing without any pressure, purely for the pleasure of it. Over time, it developed into a very intimate, almost human relationship, one that goes through phases of total connection but also moments of struggle. There are days when everything feels aligned, when the instrument responds exactly as I imagine. And there are days when it feels like it resists. These challenges are part of the process; sometimes, it is necessary to step back and distance oneself from the piano in order to return to it with a renewed perspective. The relationship with the instrument is almost human: moments of complete fusion alternate with moments of negotiation. My practice piano is a daily companion with which I build my playing, but each concert brings a new encounter with a different instrument, each with its own mechanism and sound. It requires adapting, learning how each piano responds under my fingers. Every performance is unique, as the piano reacts differently depending on the hall and its acoustics. And this dialogue does not happen in isolation—it is also built with the audience, whose energy profoundly influences the interpretation and makes each concert a singular experience.
The piano is a polyphonic instrument. Do you think your relationship with music would be different if you played a monophonic instrument?
Nour Ayadi: I have great admiration for the tonal richness of monophonic instruments, and sometimes I imagine how wonderful it would have been to play the cello or the clarinet, both of which have such incredible sounds. But what fascinates me about the piano is that it allows you to carry both the melody and the harmony at once. Unlike monophonic instruments, which rely on accompaniment, the piano is self-sufficient. What I love most is exploring harmony—the way it supports, colors, and transforms the melody. Different composers have approached this in very distinctive ways: Chopin, for instance, sought to make the piano sing like the human voice, with writing heavily influenced by opera and bel canto, always highlighting the melodic line. Schumann, on the other hand, moves me deeply with his unique harmonic language; he uses chords to create atmospheres and tensions that give his music profound emotional expressiveness. What captivates me about the piano is this freedom to layer voices and shape harmonies. Every chord, every resonance alters the music, and it is this depth and richness that make me love the instrument so profoundly.
Professional pianists often deliver radically different interpretations of the same piece. How do you approach a work in order to make it your own for the audience?
Nour Ayadi: I believe it is essential to be historically informed about the composer and the context in which the piece was written. That is not something one necessarily does when first learning repertoire—in the early years, the focus is more on mastering the notes. But sometimes, by doing so, we miss the human essence of a work. When I work on a piece, I read extensively about the composer, their letters—written either before or after the composition—and about the piece itself. Sometimes, a single word in a letter can resonate with me and completely shift my interpretation. Take the notion of melancholy, for instance. The melancholy Chopin conveys is not the same as Clementi’s, and it differs yet again from how one might characterize melancholy in Mozart or Bach. Even the very idea of melancholy varies across musical periods. What does melancholy mean for a German Romantic of the 19th century? How is it understood in the Baroque era? I realize that I cannot approach melancholy the same way we might experience it today in 2025. This research helps me develop a more faithful reading of the score. And a faithful reading is the starting point for an interpretation that is both respectful of the text and personally meaningful. The second stage is to find myself within the music—to deliver the message as me, Nour Ayadi, the interpreter. Finding that freedom within the text is challenging, but it becomes possible once the groundwork has been laid. It brings tremendous depth to the interpretation. You end up questioning every detail, and that process is endlessly fascinating.