Name: Anni Kiviniemi
Occupation: Pianist, composer, improviser
Nationality: Finnish
Current release: The Anni Kiviniemi Trio's Eir is out January 12th 2024 via We Jazz.
Recommendations: Paul Auster’s New York Trilogy made a big impact on me when I read it in my teens. It happened to be one of the first books I ever read in English and that made it somehow memorable. I like the surrealism, darkness and the silent madness that is brewing under the surface, as well as the masterful use of language and how all the parts of the trilogy seem to be unconnected yet silently overlapping. If you don’t like unresolved mysteries you might find the book highly frustrating, as I did after reading it. But then again, it’s a bit like listening to an improvised piece that you don’t quite “get” and you keep wondering what is happening and whether this is good or bad and if you should stay or just exit the room. It is nice to be thrown into confusion and being forced to float in it. It can be a great learning experience!

And talking about New York; I read Haruki Murakami’s book 1Q84 while visiting New York for the first time in the early 2000s. Reading it in a dusty and hot Airbnb, in the middle of a sizzling July, listening to the buzz, commotion and the chatter of a thousand languages from the street below, might have been the reason why it got printed into my memory so vividly.

But both these books have something in common, something ephemeral, otherworldly and soothing, the tangible feeling that nothing makes any sense but it will be OK in the end.

If you enjoyed this Anni Kiviniemi interview and would like to stay up to date on her music and live dates, visit her on Instagram.



Do you think that some of your earliest musical experiences planted a seed for your interest in improvisation?

I am pretty sure that I was improvising before I learned a single tune on the piano. It somehow came naturally to me, whereas learning the “proper” classical repertoire was laboursome. I used to reharmonize, modify and temper with the tunes to my teacher’s great dislike.

Also, I think I was very drawn to improvisation because my sight reading skills were deplorable. That’s a rather flippant reason, but at least it steered me in the right direction.

When did you first consciously start getting interested in musical improvisation? Which artists, teachers, albums or performances involving prominent use of improvisation captured your imagination in the beginning?

Listening to Keith Jarret playing a solo on the title track of Personal Mountains was some kind of turning point for me.



It was so beautiful and elastic, following its own path seemingly independent from the chord progression, yet always landing on its feet exactly when you felt like it’s spinning out of control.

I really wanted to be able to do that too. It also made me want to compose something with similar intensity.

Tell me about your instrument and/or tools, please. What made you seek it out, what makes it “your” instrument, and what are some of the most important aspects of playing it?

Someone joked once that those who play piano didn’t feel the calling for any instrument so they stuck with it. It is somewhat true in my case, as piano was chosen for me when I was six years old, and I never sought out other instruments, let alone learned to play any other instrument at a satisfying level.

But I think this served me well. Piano is great for composing and playing solo, both of which I enjoy. I was a solitary child and I was very happy being by myself and setting up various activities for myself.

It also shaped me in many ways. If you play a trumpet you will get invited to participate in a marching band at an early age. If you play the violin you’ll get to play in a chamber group or a string quartet etc. I think I was missing out on the experience of the shared joy of music making, where everyone is working together towards a common goal when growing up.

I think this would have been vastly advantageous for me and made learning music more joyous at an early age.

How would you describe your own relationship with your instrument – is it an extension of your self/body, a partner and companion, a creative catalyst, a challenge to be overcome, something else entirely?

It’s something else.

I don’t feel like it’s the extension of my body, as there has always been a struggle for me to feel very close to the instrument. It’s not a challenge either as I have come to accept the limitations of the instrument and by own hindrances as a performer.

Playing the piano has often been a way to organize my own thoughts, especially when I am composing! If I get an idea in my head I feel the urgency to get it out as soon as possible. I suppose I use the piano as an intellectual tool.

Do you feel as though there are at least elements of composition and improvisation which are entirely unique to each? Based on your own work or maybe performances or recordings by other artists, do you feel that there are results which could only have happened through one of them?

Many of my compositions, such as “Atoms” (on my album Eir) were born out of improvisation. I kept improvising until I started remembering certain passages, and I didn’t write anything down before the composition was completely finished.

I do that quite often actually! That way everything that’s unnecessary will be forgotten before it makes it’s way on paper.

When you're improvising, does it actually feel like you're inventing something on the spot – or are you inventively re-arranging patterns from preparations, practise or previous performances? What balance is there between forgetting and remembering in your work?

I think “remembering” is only essential for practicing. When I improvise I try to forget everything, as overthinking and over analyzing are the enemies of a free flowing and spontaneous improvisation.

I am definitely drawing from everything I have ever heard, played or practiced, but I don’t do it consciously. I have noticed that, in my case, it takes a fairly long time for anything that I have practiced to make its way into my improvisations.

Sometimes I surprise myself by playing something I had completely forgotten having ever practiced. That is why improvisation is so exhilarating; one never knows what’s about to happen, all musicians included.

Are you acting out parts of your personality in your improvisations which you couldn't or wouldn't through other musical approaches? If so, which are these? What, would you say, are the key ideas behind your approach to improvisation?

This one made me think for a while. I know improvisation is the most natural practice for me and has always been. I feel everything I do is improvisation, from cooking to talking in a foreign language, or making friends, or raising my child, or trying to figure out what to do about my stress and anxiety.

What I find interesting is how so many classical players can get quite paralyzed if they are asked to improvise a single melody, yet they can perform a full concerto without a fuss. What makes me shiver in my boots is the though about playing through a full classical piece in front of an audience. I just don’t think I would get through it.

In terms of your personal expression and the experience of performance, how does playing solo compare to group improvisations?

I love both! Playing solo gives you complete control over the music, but group improvisation is more fun. I tend to turn inward while I am improving on my own, which actually isn’t that great because there is so much to communicate with: the acoustics of the room and the energy of the audience, for example.

Playing solo feels to me like swimming under water. When I play with others I am more aware of my surroundings, more communicative and more open. It feels more like surfing: catching the waves and navigating the wind above the surface.

In your best improvisations, do you feel a strong sense of personal presence or do you (or your ego) “disappear”?  

I feel my best when I am present, alert and focused.

I am also searching for the state of “flow”, which means that I will just know that whatever I play will turn out to be just right. The calmness and lucidity of that feeling is better than anything, and the feeling of completely trusting myself allows me to be less nervous and therefore a better improviser.

In a live situation, decisions between creatives often work without words. From your experience and current projects, what does this process feel like and how does it work?

I think that a good improviser can indicate the direction they want to take by purely musical means. If I have a strong idea it is rather easy, but if I am not sure where to go, or hesitating, this definitely undermines the results and makes everyone else doubtful too.

When we recorded Eir, we had one rehearsal the day before, and we focused mostly on learning the tunes, not so much about how  /where / in what way we would improvise during the rehearsals. All improvisation happened in the studio, after the recording button had already been pushed. In such a case everyone is interpreting the tune from their own point of view, using the their own language and their own reference points, while trying to make the big picture working somehow.

There is nothing wrong with that in my opinion, although my intentions for the compositions might get lost. But there is nothing wrong with that either.

There can be surprising moments during improvisations – from one of the performers not playing a single note to another shaking up a quiet section with an outburst of noise. Have you been part of similar situations and how did they impact the performance from your point of view?

I just had a conversation with a friend of mine, who said that he avoids playing with bass players who are too nice, playing exactly what they are told and not taking risks. He needs someone to stimulate and challenge him. I too think that being too polite is not a good thing while improvising. The risks you take allows others to take risks.

When I play something “crazy” it is either me wanting to encourage others to do that too (it’s easier to play outrageous things after someone else has been brave enough to do so first) or because the situation needed it and I basically couldn’t help but to play that.

When I played with my trio at the We Jazz Festival this year I remember banging the strings with my iPhone and getting a few laughs from the audience. I am sure they thought I did it for an effect but in reality I kept searching for something to play with (a pen, a bank card, a program leaflet etc) for ages, until I really had to use my phone. The sonic landscape of the improvisation we were doing at that time urgently needed it.

I also noticed that some roof decorations, tables, rubber ducks and radiators were banged and squeezed during that gig. It was great!

I have always been fascinated by the many facets of improvisation but sometimes found it hard to follow them as a listener. Do you have some recommendations for “how to listen” in this regard?

This sounds very familiar to me. I remember very distinctly when I was listening to a jazz piece for the first time, and it sounded very “messy” to me. Not bad, but very unfamiliar, and I was struggling to follow the form and to detect all the sensitivities of interplay, the tune that was being improvised on, and so on.

The most important thing is to not give up and to keep on exposing oneself to music that’s new, difficult, bizarre even. Eventually one’s ears get more sensitive, and they will start detecting patterns within the music they can identify.

It’s quite like learning a foreign language, or tasting a new dish. One might need to sample a new flavor a few times before starting to like it.