‘That was a kind of perfect storm,’ Randall Goosby says of the events that led to his debut recording, ‘Roots’. ‘Decca first approached me at the end of the summer of 2020, and things were hot at that point, between the pandemic and Black Lives Matter. My first question to them was: “Why?” Nobody was doing anything. How was I even going to get into a studio? But it was one of those opportunities that you simply wouldn’t dream of turning down.

‘I’d been a part of various online solidarity concerts and benefits, and had participated in panels with other black artists about the racial climate in classical music and what needs to be done to change it,’ the 27-year-old violinist tells me via Zoom from his New York City apartment, where he’s alighted for a day between travels. ‘But I got to a point where I thought, “Man, I don’t see that I’m being a part of a big, meaningful change.” Perhaps that was a bit impatient and naive of me, but I felt that I wanted to do something that meant a lot for me as well as for my people and the movement.’ Making ‘Roots’, Goosby says, gave him that chance, and its personal meaning is reflected in the recital’s programme.

Recording with Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Goosby’s conductor on his new album (photo: Pete Checchia)

‘I wanted to raise awareness of the fact that we’ve been here for a long time, contributing to art forms even though nobody thought we had a place in them,’ he says. It also gave him an opportunity to add more music by black composers to his repertoire – the three works in the programme by Florence Price were all new to him, for example – as well as to highlight the connections between black composers and the traditional canon of white composers. ‘I included Dvořák and Gershwin because a lot of people might not appreciate the fact that neither composer’s music would be what it is without the inspiration they took from black music and black artists.’

Goosby continues this thread on his newest Decca release, made with Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Philadelphia Orchestra, which pairs Bruch’s First Violin Concerto with the two concertos by Price. The Bruch, of course, is a tried-and-tested vehicle for young violinists making their first concerto recording, but Goosby says he has a special connection with it. ‘It’s probably the concerto that’s been in my fingers and in my heart for the longest of all the major ones. It was one of the first pieces I worked on with my former teacher Philippe Quint, who I learnt an enormous amount from in the three years I studied with him.’ It’s worth noting that at that point Goosby was not yet a teenager.

‘During that time, my mother and I were flying back and forth once a month from Memphis, Tennessee, where we lived, to New York for my lessons. I think we spent at least a year on the Bruch and we really dove deep. That was a big awakening for me, knowing how much depth and variety is possible, not just in practice, but in the Bruch Concerto itself.’

Randall Goosby (photo: Kaupo Kikkas)

The slow movement is particularly dear to him. ‘I’m a big fan of slow movements – heart on the sleeve, emotional music – and I think this Adagio is in my top three. It’s in E flat major, which for me is a nostalgic key. It’s music where you have a smile on your face but also a tear in your eye. In the world of violin concertos where you’re always centre stage and need to be projecting to the back of the hall, I think this Adagio offers an opportunity for introspection and reflection, and to create a sense of intimacy with the music, the orchestra and the audience. At least I hope that’s what comes across.’

I mention how much I appreciate the fact that throughout the Bruch he takes his time, even in the fast-moving, virtuoso passages, savouring the ornaments the way a sensitive singer would. ‘I love it when people’s reaction to hearing my work evokes some association with the voice and singers. That’s always been a defining aspect of how I approach the instrument and how I interpret music. So, like you said, even in those virtuoso passages in the Bruch, there’s always space for that sort of really human expressiveness.’

If the Bruch is a trusted old friend for Goosby, the Price concertos were new to him. Composed in 1939 and 1952 respectively, they were lost for decades and only rediscovered in 2009. ‘It took me a while to get hip to the First Concerto,’ Goosby admits. ‘I wouldn’t say it’s a study piece or anything like that, but I do think it was Price feeling her way around the violin concerto as an expressive medium. Obviously, she took a lot of inspiration from the Tchaikovsky Concerto, but I find both of her concertos to be beautiful examples of what makes her music so special.

‘Price grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas. She was heavily influenced by the music of the church and the hymns and spirituals that were passed down to her by her mother, and probably her mother’s mother, and so on. And then she had the opportunity to fuse that with the Eurocentric traditions that she was educated with at the New England Conservatory, Boston. Coming out of that, you can hear the things that she was listening to and thinking about, so the fusion that became her First Violin Concerto feels familiar, yet it also feels completely new, like uncharted territory.’

Apart from the affectionate glances back to Tchaikovsky’s Concerto, Goosby says there’s something quintessentially American about Price’s First Concerto and her music in general, pointing specifically to her soulful, almost folk-like melodies. I’m pleased, as I noticed the soulfulness, too, particularly in the Andantino of the second movement, which struck me as an American analogue to the kind of Russian soulfulness one hears in the Canzonetta of the Tchaikovsky. Goosby nods in agreement. ‘Oh, definitely. That second movement, that music – that’s soul right there. For me, personally, as an African American person, that is the kind of soul and soulfulness that I try to achieve in music even if it’s not written by black composers. That, to me, is what it means to sing with your heart.’

As for Price’s Second Concerto, Goosby says it’s sui generis. ‘Structurally, it’s pretty weird, really, and calling it a concerto is maybe a bit of a stretch; it’s almost more like a tone poem. There’s certainly more of a common thread from the beginning to the end than there is in the First Concerto. In the First, it’s as if each movement has a clear and individual identity, whereas in the Second it’s all one thing. The themes sort of weave into and around each other and there are strong juxtapositions – the martial character of the opening and then this really soulful, almost Great American Songbook-like quality to the recurring Andante cantabile sections. Then there’s all the crazy athletics in the solo part and a lot of really unexpected modulations – I just love the way that it’s full of surprises. I think when people hear it for the first time, there will be moments when they’re going to say, “Wait. Did I really hear that?” And they’ll want to rewind. Obviously, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I tend to really value experiences where people are sort of rocked off their chairs a little bit, and I think the Second Concerto provides plenty of opportunities for that.’

Given Goosby’s perspicuity – impressive in someone so young – I’m curious about his formative influences. Did he hear classical music at home as a child? ‘We didn’t have any classical music in the house until I really started to get serious about the violin – started to understand that I enjoyed it and might have some talent with it. At first we listened to a lot of popular black music from the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s – hip hop, R&B, Motown, soul. Stevie Wonder is one of my biggest influences.

‘My mom and I learnt what classical music is, and what violin playing is, side by side. I think that was partially due to the philosophies and methodology of the Suzuki method, which I started with, and which requires that parents be really involved with their child’s practice. But my mom really went out of her way and very quickly developed a personal interest in all of it. I can’t tell you how many hundreds of times we watched Bruno Monsaingeon’s documentary The Art of Violin, with all the greats: Perlman, Oistrakh, Elman, Gitlis. Even Hilary Hahn was there at that point’ – this was 2000, and Hahn was born in 1979. ‘So by the time I’d been playing for a few years, I knew all the great violinists of the past, I knew all their recordings and which were my favourites.’

And, Goosby says, it’s critical for young musicians to figure out not just what they like but also what they don’t like. ‘It’s important to know that you don’t want to do it that way but you want to do it this way instead. Those sorts of realisations and decisions contribute – especially at an early age – to developing an individual sense of self and a sense of artistry that’s not necessarily directly influenced or inspired by another artist. So, yeah, that’s how I grew up listening to music. And I’ll still go back and listen to some of my favourite recordings from when I was a kid.’

These favourites include David Oistrakh playing the Tchaikovsky Concerto. ‘He recorded it a million times, I know, and at the moment I’m not sure which version it was, but I have a very close association with his playing this concerto, as does my whole family. When I started studying the violin we lived in Jacksonville, Florida. I must have been eight or nine when my mom discovered this recording. She was constantly coming home with CDs. And I remember there was a huge hurricane and a funnel cloud had formed over our house. My brother and sister and I were all crying and freaking out, and for some reason we decided that if we all took out our instruments and played with a lot of passion, if we played our hearts out, maybe the storm would pass. At that point, Oistrakh’s Tchaikovsky was the soundtrack of our lives. Every time we were in the car, especially with my mom, the Tchaikovsky was playing. So now when I hear the opening, I can see the funnel cloud over our house.’

Randall Goosby (photo: Jeremy Mitchell)

Another favourite is Jascha Heifetz’s recording of Julius Conus’s Violin Concerto. ‘Obviously, I didn’t know about it when I was really young – almost nobody knows about the Conus Concerto these days. I was getting into middle school and early high school, and that’s when I started studying with Mr Perlman. Conus’s Concerto was one of the first pieces I studied with him. In the recording, there’s that trademark Heifetz sizzle in the sound. It’s a very virtuoso, flashy piece, but the slow movement is in some ways similar to the Bruch, and here Heifetz’s playing is so personal and incredibly stylish.’

It was Quint who suggested that Goosby apply for the Perlman Music Program. ‘After three years together, we had reached a plateau, and Philippe asked me if playing the violin was something I wanted to do with the rest of my life and to make a career of. That was the first time I’d been asked that question and I didn’t have an answer. I’d started playing because it was fun. So Philippe said I should think about it, because our lessons weren’t working, but if there was one person who could possibly help me it was Itzhak Perlman. I can’t say that I was about to quit playing, but I was really contemplating if this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So I auditioned for the Perlman Music Program and I got in. Obviously, after having heard all of Mr Perlman’s recordings, I was super excited but also terrified.’

Goosby was just 14 at this point. ‘I get there, my parents leave and I haven’t met anyone else. So I’m in the cafeteria, waiting in line for lunch, and I see this guy pull up to the serving counter on his scooter. I wonder if I should say something to him. Should I introduce myself? I see him reach his huge bear paw into this tray of chicken nuggets, and I just take a big breath and realise, “Oh my God, we have something in common.” And that really set the tone for our relationship as student and teacher. I still remember the things he told me in my first lessons, which was along the lines of: “I don’t care if you’re out of tune or not. Obviously, I want you to practise and try your best to be as accurate as possible, but if you’re not saying something to me, if you’re not feeling the music you’re playing, I’m going to be bored out of my mind, and so is anyone else who’ll be listening to you.” He wasn’t quite that blunt, but that was the essence of my instruction with him and something that I’ve kept close to my heart and that I try to share with young people whenever I have the opportunity.’

That summer Goosby decided that yes, he did want to play music for the rest of his life. But that wasn’t his first ‘light bulb moment’, as he puts it. He’d had one a year earlier, in 2010, when he became the youngest-ever winner of the Sphinx Organization’s junior division competition. Sphinx was founded in 1997, its mission to foster diversity in the arts. ‘I don’t think I’d be where I am without Sphinx,’ Goosby says. ‘That was the first time in my life when I understood that “composer” was not synonymous with “old, dead, white guy”. Sphinx does that for a lot of young kids – and adults, too, frankly. For the competition, including the application and audition process, a requirement is that participants learn and perform a piece by a composer of colour.’

Randall Goosby (photo: Kaupo Kikkas)

As the winner of the competition, Goosby went around performing with Sphinx’s various partner orchestras and presenters. ‘That was the beginning of my realisation that I could be a part of something bigger than just playing music. Wherever I went to perform, I would go to the local schools to play and speak with the students. I’d go into high schools where the kids were older than me and taller, and some guys already had facial hair (I still had baby fat falling off my chin rest), and I’d wonder what I could possibly have that would interest them. Should I tell them about what I’d learnt in my 13 years of life and play some classical music? But then, every time I played, I noticed there were at least a few whose jaws were on the floor as if they’d seen magic in front of their eyes. I realised that we can actually go somewhere with this; if we can have this effect on a handful of kids everywhere we go, we can start to open doors to classical music for many people who’ve felt alienated or estranged by it. I feel lucky at this relatively early point in my life that I have such a clearly defined purpose and objective in classical music, and I have that only because of Sphinx.’

What’s next for Goosby? ‘Asian composers. Korean and Japanese, specifically. My father is black and my mother is Korean – they met in Japan; so that’s the other part of my identity. Obviously, what I’ve been doing with “Roots” and the Florence Price concertos has to do with my black side. I look black, so I think on a certain level it’s been easier to have more access to that part of my culture. But I’m making my first ever trip to Korea this summer, so I want to develop some cultural awareness when I’m there, you know – pay my respects and dig much more deeply into that side of myself. Eventually, I think it would be super cool to fuse the two – maybe an album of music by black and Korean composers? I don’t think it’s been done before, and I think there’s a lot of potentially unique ideas and stories to be told there.

‘You know, I grew up listening to and studying Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms, but I’ve developed these interpretative, artistic and technical skills to bring to music from other backgrounds, too, and that’s something I take very seriously.’

This interview originally appeared in the May 2023 issue of Gramophone magazine. Never miss an issue of the world's leading classical music magazine – subscribe to Gramophone