In a tempo that proves discipline and a tirelessly creative spirit, pianist Egbert Derix records new albums at least once a year. His music has a timeless and universal nature yet is always recognisable. Derix has played with a wide range of musicians: Fish, Iain Matthews, Eric Vloeimans and John Helliwell, to mention just a few. In his music, he combines classical influences, solo piano jazz and good pop songs. On his latest album Deo Volente, however, he does not play himself, but he is the composer of the string quartets, which were recorded by the Limburg String Quartet and members of André Rieu’s orchestra the pianist-composer tells me in his hometown Horst.
After a series of CDs as an improviser and accompanist, making an album with composed music must have been something completely new.
Deo Volente is a selection of string quartets I wrote between 2012 and 2024. When I get a commission to arrange strings for someone, I write an intro, an interlude and an outtro for myself to get into the music. Not with the intention of putting it on the record, although sometimes I secretly hope so, but mainly to get to know the piece better. By now I have built up quite a collection of these arrangements.
How did you start arranging?
In 2012, I made the album In The Now with singer and guitarist Iain Matthews, known from the British folk band Fairport Convention, among others. For that album, we needed string arrangements and, although I didn’t consider myself an arranger at the time, I started doing it, partly for cost reasons. I was educated at a conservatoire and also took composition lessons there, which benefited me a lot while arranging. A year later, I made an album of arrangements of music by the British prog rock group Marillion (Paintings in Lilac). For that too, I wrote the string arrangements. Since then, I have regularly been asked to write arrangements for others. Also for bigger names like John Helliwell’s Supertramp Big Band and (Marillion singer) Fish .
Do you intentionally self-publish your music?
I was initially very happy when the music by Iain Matthews and me was released by Universal / Verve, but eventually it turned out that we had to take care of our own promotion there as well. I then discovered that you might as well self-publish your music, which is more profitable.
In the preface to your book De Muze Brengt Mij (The Muse Brings Me, 2015), your brother Govert wonders why you are not much better known. Does your choice to continue living in Horst in Limburg have anything to do with that?
Fame is relative. I have done many interesting things. Yet I often hear people say: You play with Supertramp’s saxophonist, you won important awards, you perform with Eric Vloeimans, why aren’t you on television much more often? I use my time and my talent for making beautiful music. For me, music is the goal and not a means to become famous or rich. While studying in New York, I met and played with many great musicians. Unfortunately, I also saw many examples there of people for whom their ego was their driving force. Incidentally, I encountered that attitude just as much in the large Dutch cities. For me, it was a reason to return to my native soil; here I can be myself.
Who are your examples in jazz?
As a jazz musician, I was influenced by Bill Evans and by Paul Bley. I consider Keith Jarrett an absolute master on the piano, but he is so good that that quality can be very paralysing at the same time. Paul Bley is more inviting and less daunting. I am also a big fan of the jazz-rock band Steps Ahead.
What is it like playing with trumpeter Eric Vloeimans?
We have been playing together for more than ten years now and we perform more and more frequently. We often start from scratch; the first set is completely improvised. Usually we have a few compositions in reserve, but most of the time we ignore them. We sit down and we just start playing. It’s always special to have that happen. Even the album Gardens of Abundance (2022) that I made with Eric is at least half improvised. Making music with Eric is always a treat.
Deo Volente is not your first classical album. With Sef Thissen, you recorded classical songs for Wandern. For that album, you translated poetry by your father Jan Derix (1936 – 2009) into German. They are beautiful poems, why did he never publish them himself?
To understand that, you need to know something of his background. My father was born into a poor Catholic family and his parents could not afford to pay for his studies. He was an intelligent boy and thanks to the influence of the Dean of Horst, he was given the chance to be educated at Watersley Seminary. However, he discovered at an early age that he did not have a vocation for the ministry of priest, so he asked if he could continue his education at a regular grammar school. Eventually, he did. Although he passed with flying colours, he did not go to university but became a journalist at the age of seventeen. He read a lot and enriched his knowledge through self-study. He wrote some history books; for publishing his poetry, he was far too modest. Translating his poems helped me get to know my father better.
You have also set lyrics by Eckhart Tolle to music. What fascinates you so much in him?
Tolle’s message is universal: we should be good to each other and good to the planet, and we should never let our own gain come at the expense of the happiness of others. What is special about Tolle is that he writes in clear, plain language and with a lot of humour. He often falls back on the person of Jesus Christ. Through Tolle, I later came across Alan Watts, another spiritual thinker. I used the speaking voices of Tolle and Watts on my album Dark Night Of The Soul.
In your book, you frequently make subtle references to religion: ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.’
The dalai lama once said that someone who changes religion has not understood the essence of his own faith. I think that is a true statement. At their core, I think all religions come down to the same thing, whatever labels we put on them.
What does religion add to life?
People who have got things well organized run the risk of not noticing their own emptiness. You see this spiritual poverty, for example, in people who pay six hundred euros for a concert ticket and watch Metallica from a skybox, but cannot really enjoy it.
Why did you name your album Deo Volente?
I think it’s a beautiful adage, with which you can say a lot. We humans simply don’t have everything under control. In ‘Deo Volente’, God willing, there is not only a healthy reserve, but also gratitude: I am not in charge about this. Others might find it a fatalistic motto, I rather see it as a humble one. As this is my first album with only string quartets, it seemed a fitting title. Deo Volente, nothing can be taken for granted in life.
Picture: Jan de Bruyn
