by Max Millar
Max Millar: Brad, first off, let me just say what an absolute honor it is to sit down with you. Your playing has shaped how I approach the piano, and I know countless others feel the same way. Thanks for taking the time to talk.
Brad Mehldau: Thanks, Max. I’m glad the music has resonated with you. That means a lot.
Max Millar: Let’s dive in. One thing that always strikes me about your playing is your ability to layer textures—like how you weave independent melodies in your right and left hands. I think of pieces like your take on Radiohead’s Exit Music (For a Film) or your improvisations on Blackbird. How did that kind of contrapuntal approach develop?
Brad Mehldau: It goes back to my early fascination with Bach. I’ve always been drawn to the way he could make two or three voices speak independently but still interact in a meaningful way. When I’m improvising, I’m often thinking of counterpoint—not in a strict, academic sense, but as a way to let the left hand have its own conversation while the right hand explores something else. It’s like two characters in a dialogue.
But it’s also emotional. With Exit Music, for example, the goal was to capture that haunting melancholy, and counterpoint helps create that tension. One voice pulls you in one direction, the other in another—there’s this unresolved feeling that mirrors the song’s narrative.
Max Millar: That’s fascinating. And when it comes to harmony, your reharmonizations are legendary. I’ve heard people describe your chords as “classical meets jazz meets pop.” What’s your process when reimagining a tune harmonically?
Brad Mehldau: Reharmonization is where I let my instincts take over. When I hear a melody, I ask myself: What else could this melody be saying? A simple diatonic progression might work beautifully, but shifting to something chromatic or unexpected can reveal a different side of the tune.
Take Blackbird, for instance. It’s a beautiful melody that sits perfectly over a standard folk progression, but if you add, say, a diminished chord or imply a Lydian sound, suddenly it’s a little more unsettled, even bittersweet. I think about tension and release—how the harmony can heighten or subvert what the melody is already doing.
Max Millar: That idea of tension and release comes up in your use of rhythm too. The way you’ll play with time, stretching or compressing phrases, can be so breathtaking. How do you approach that sense of rubato and rhythmic flexibility?
Brad Mehldau: That’s something I’ve worked on for a long time. It’s about listening and trust. When you’re playing in a trio, for example, you have to trust that the bass and drums will hold the pulse, even if you’re floating above it. And vice versa—they need to trust you to eventually resolve back into the groove.
But rubato isn’t just about freedom. It’s about intention. If I’m stretching a phrase, I want it to feel natural, as if the melody needs to take that breath. You don’t want it to feel like a gimmick. Keith Jarrett does this masterfully—he’s always breathing with the music, even when he’s pushing it to its limits.
Max Millar: Speaking of Jarrett, your solo playing often gets compared to his—particularly in how you build improvisations so organically. How much of his influence do you carry with you, and how do you carve out your own space in that lineage?
Brad Mehldau: Jarrett is, without a doubt, a massive influence. His solo concerts are like these vast emotional landscapes where every idea feels inevitable, like it couldn’t have gone any other way. That’s something I aspire to—letting the music unfold naturally, without forcing it.
But I also think about what I can bring to the table. For me, it’s about weaving in the other influences I’ve absorbed, whether it’s Radiohead, Nick Drake, Brahms, or Coltrane. Those elements are part of my personal story, and they help shape the narrative I’m telling in the moment.
Max Millar: Your incorporation of pop and rock influences has been so important for bridging jazz with a wider audience. What draws you to artists like Radiohead or Nick Drake, and how do you translate their music into your language?
Brad Mehldau: I’m drawn to music that feels honest, whether it’s jazz, classical, or rock. Radiohead and Nick Drake, in particular, have this emotional vulnerability that resonates with me. It’s not about genre—it’s about finding the humanity in the music.
When I arrange a pop tune, I’m not trying to make it “jazzy.” I’m trying to preserve what makes it special while letting it breathe in a different way. With Radiohead’s Everything in Its Right Place, for instance, I kept that hypnotic, looping quality but added improvisational elements to create a dialogue with the original.
Max Millar: Let’s talk about younger pianists. Your influence on players like Gerald Clayton, Tigran Hamasyan, and Aaron Parks is undeniable. What do you hope the next generation takes from your work?
Brad Mehldau: I hope they take the idea that jazz is a living, evolving art form. It’s about tradition, yes, but also about curiosity and exploration. I’ve always tried to approach music with an open mind, whether it’s diving into the American songbook or exploring contemporary music.
And I hope they see that it’s okay to let your personality shine through. Jazz isn’t about fitting into a box; it’s about expressing who you are in the most honest way possible.
Max Millar: One last question, Brad. After everything you’ve accomplished, what still excites you about making music?
Brad Mehldau: The unknown. Every time I sit at the piano, there’s the potential to discover something new. Music is infinite, and no matter how much you learn, there’s always more to explore. That sense of possibility—that’s what keeps me coming back.
Max Millar: Beautifully said. Thank you, Brad, for sharing your insights. This has been a dream come true for me.
Brad Mehldau: My pleasure, Max. Keep playing, and keep listening. That’s what it’s all about.
Max Millar Music 