SOLACE
Stefan Rusconi Solo
Jazz
Stefan Rusconi: Step by step
First, his hands appeared on the screen; now, Stefan Rusconi is back on stage. After a long, deep crisis, the pianist is gradually returning and seeking an honest relationship with himself for the first time.
Rusconi is a master at capturing moods, emotions, and colors, and incorporating them into his music. As varied as the pieces on Solace are, they all sound determined and ready to move forward. You get the same feeling in a personal conversation with the pianist. One morning at the end of May, we meet at the Brasserie in Zurich's main railway station. Rusconi is just passing through. He has lived in Berlin for almost 20 years but has never lost touch with his homeland. His mother and brother live here, and his involvement with the Árvore cultural foundation brings him to Switzerland regularly. This work, in particular, has been crucial in keeping him connected to the music scene, he says.For a long time, the pianist could not make music. "The last few years were a very dark time for me personally. I was in a very bad way, and I'm still struggling with the consequences of my severe depression. I'm only gradually reaching a point where I can talk about it."Last fall, he began making his first attempts: in connection with the announcement of the film Köln 75 about Keith Jarrett's famous concert, Rusconi approached the public again for the first time, and an insightful portrait of him appeared in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung. The solo album released last fall was also an attempt at a new approach. "These were all steps back to the surface," the pianist reflects. "Today, I'm in a different place."Ten years ago, Rusconi's crisis was triggered. During a tour, he found his bandmate unresponsive in his hotel room, which was understandably a huge shock. "That threw me off course, of course," he said. What was less foreseeable were the processes this terrible experience would trigger and the long-term consequences it would have on the musician's life. "I was in the middle of my life. I had obligations, and I had to finish a lot of things." He continued functioning for another six months but increasingly felt that something was wrong until he completely broke down. The experience had triggered something: Memories from the 36-year-old's childhood that could no longer be suppressed surfaced. "I was completely thrown off course and collapsed. I could no longer make music or live at all. In the ongoing projects, I just sat there, experiencing great inner pain and anxiety that was hard to bear, barely able to stay involved and play my part."Today, he feels the need to call a spade a spade. This buried part of his biography is about sexual violence he experienced outside of his family. It's a difficult topic to discuss, and there's hardly an appropriate—let alone correct—response. However, Rusconi emphasizes that he must talk about it during select, safe moments. "I have to talk about it with other people. Since I've slowly been getting better, I've learned how beneficial it is for me to share my innermost feelings with others on a meta-level and what it means to be honest." Perhaps that only benefits him. But that's all he wants at the moment. "I have to get to know myself all over again," he says. "Storytelling helps me do that."The path is so long because it is difficult to address this topic in our society. Rusconi discusses the sheltered nature of his childhood and his family's loving environment. He discusses the constructive attitude and values he was taught as a child that he still believes in today as an adult. "My father was a public prosecutor. I learned about morals and ethical behavior, and that we live in a community, which is valuable. There are boundaries within it that must not be crossed. Then something happens that is completely outside of this scheme. Something boundless, deeply shameful, and violent."Discussing the death of a friend was relatively easy, but no one wanted to hear about sexualized violence. Traumatized people often develop effective repression mechanisms, perhaps as a reaction to powerlessness. "The issue of abuse is closely linked to emotional manipulation and violence—psychological, physical, and systemic. It breaks the personality. It's like a mirror lying there in a thousand pieces, and you try to live on with those pieces. You forget and repress the fact that all the pieces together should actually be a whole."For Rusconi, the road out of the crisis is long and arduous, and far from over. The crisis is still bubbling inside him every day. But he has found individual outlets that he is slowly approaching. One example is his return to the piano and his album "Solace."The fact that he sat down at the piano in his Berlin apartment again at all is thanks to the film Köln 75, which tells the story of Keith Jarrett's Cologne concert from the perspective of organizer Vera Brandes. "The producer, Sol Bondy, is a friend of mine. Over coffee once, he said he wanted to use my hands for close-ups of the piano scenes. He took photos of my hands, and the director, Ido Fluk, was thrilled." At first, Rusconi didn't want to participate, but he gave it a try and ended up composing the music for the live scenes in the movie. Keith Jarrett's music also plays an important role in Rusconi's life. "I was about twelve when I went alone to one of his concerts at the Zurich Opera House. I was enthralled, and I remained so for a long time." Like many people, Rusconi developed further later on. During his studies, he became interested in the New York downtown scene and musicians such as Mehldau, Moran, Iverson, and Rosenwinkel. "Reengaging with Jarrett has taught me a lot, especially that I don't want to play or sound like him."Working on the album required a great deal of courage. Not only is it Rusconi's first solo release, but it also marks a new beginning in his musical career. He was able to embark on this new chapter with Tobias Preisig by his side. Although the pieces may not give this impression, Rusconi says they felt like a tentative attempt. "It's intimate music, recorded very closely and quietly, which you can hear in the pieces. The variety stems from my desire to create moods in my music. I set a framework for myself, such as a theme, image, or element — often archaic and elemental, like fire or water — and combine it with emotions. I get an ally for the theme or setting, such as my father, a friend, or a person from a movie or book who inspires me. I put them behind me. Then, I improvise within this framework. I try to delve deep within myself and render myself obsolete. For me, making music means creating an environment and seeing where it takes me and what it does to me."The road back to life has not yet ended. However, the desire to perform is slowly returning, and this summer, Rusconi will perform his solo program at several festivals in Switzerland and Europe. However, it is still difficult for him to rebuild his relationship with his long-lost self. "It's crazy how creative you can be as a sufferer to hold on to the good and block out the bad. Even though the burden of this incredibly complex emotional situation—with hurt, sadness, powerlessness, despair, and anger—is always present. For me, the only way out is to acknowledge all of these feelings inside me, including the negative ones: anger and aggression. I have to acknowledge them and try to come to terms with them. Radical acceptance. That's the only way I can slowly start living a life in connection with myself again." Stefan Rusconi is certainly not the only one who has to master this huge task. Through his example and music, he shows that it can be done, even if only step by step, despite all the difficulties. Christof Thurnherr, Jazz'n'moreThis article appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of Jazz'n'more.