Ludovico Einaudi loves tea. He collects different kinds from around the world. He says tea offers him the same wide range of tastes as wine &mdash; just without the alcohol.

He offers me a cup.
There&rsquo;s no need to introduce him. His music plays in every corner of the world. Every musician &mdash; classical or not &mdash; begins their journey with I Giorni, and nearly every human being can recognize Una Mattina from its very first three notes. He has created a language uniquely his own &mdash; minimal, spacious, and emotionally honest &mdash; music that opens the door inward.
I expected him to be a bit distant or a bit reserved &mdash; like many geniuses, wrapped in their own inner worlds. But instead, there he was: smiling, wearing a white cotton shirt and his signature cap, reaching out to shake my hand.
It was a very hot summer day in Rome. So hot that the air itself seemed heavy and still, as if holding its breath in a quiet pause &mdash; and the moment felt just right to talk about his latest album, &ldquo;Summer Portraits&rdquo;. Einaudi tells me the idea came during his summer stay on the Tuscan island of Elba a few years ago. While there, he came across paintings by an unknown Roman woman from the 1950s: quiet scenes painted during her summer holidays with her family. Maestro began to imagine her summers, her family &mdash; and, in turn, remembered his own.
He speaks of time, freedom, and summers spent by the sea. Three uninterrupted months filled with nature, friendship, and freedom. These early years, he tells me, become the emotional framework through which we interpret life.

Ludovico Einaudi: Summer is the season of life which is connected to many beautiful things. Especially in your childhood. It is the time when you're not in school, first of all. Summer becomes this space where you experience life without anyone telling you what to do. In Italy, summer also means beautiful light and warm weather. I used to spend three months by the sea with my family. It was a time of discovery: of nature, of friendship, of food. And all the experiences you absorb in those early summers will stay with you forever. They become a reference point for everything that comes later. The tastes, the smells, the feelings, the relationships &mdash; they become your core. There&rsquo;s one specific German word for that.

He asks me if I speak German. I shake my head.
Maestro picks up his phone and begins to search, trying to find the word caught on the edge of memory &mdash; the word that, in a way, holds the entire essence of &ldquo;Summer Portraits&rdquo;.
Ludovico Einaudi: Heimat. That&rsquo;s the word.
Heimat, indeed, doesn&rsquo;t have a perfect one-word translation, but it carries the meaning of a deep sense of home &mdash; whether physical, emotional, cultural, or spiritual. It&rsquo;s where you feel you belong, where your roots are. A home within your soul. And that&rsquo;s what he means by a reference point &mdash; the emotional core formed in childhood, through which we continue to filter all of life&rsquo;s experiences.

Lira Bekbolatova: So &ldquo;Summer Portraits&rdquo; is some sort of homage to your childhood? And to your personal summer experiences?
Ludovico Einaudi: Yes. It&rsquo;s a reflection on what summer has meant in my life. I also wanted to open that theme up to others &mdash; as a kind of collective reflection. I think music is nice when it inspires something in the listener. With &ldquo;Summer Portraits&rdquo;, I hoped to invite others to reflect on their own summer experiences.
He tells me he used to ride a yellow bicycle every summer, all day long with friends. That was all he needed to be happy. &ldquo;That time felt like paradise,&rdquo; he says.
Lira Bekbolatova: Would you say that was your version of happiness at the time?
Ludovico Einaudi: Yes, I think so. It was a happiness rooted in simplicity. Compared to today&rsquo;s world with all its technology and fast pace &mdash; it was something very different and I am glad I was part of it. We felt almost like wild animals, completely immersed in nature. Outdoors all the time, barefoot, wearing the same T-shirts every day.
Lira Bekbolatova: What&rsquo;s your &ldquo;yellow bicycle&rdquo; now?
Ludovico Einaudi: Well, it&rsquo;s hard to compare. My summers are much shorter now, and my life is more structured. But I do miss that slow time &mdash; when you could lose yourself in the days. I remember how time would stretch to the point where you&rsquo;d even get bored &mdash; but it was a beautiful kind of boredom. Now, I have a place in the countryside where I go to slow down. It&rsquo;s not the same, but it allows me to enjoy the quality time that I like, to reconnect with my memories.
Lira Bekbolatova: And with your inner self?
Ludovico Einaudi: Exactly.

He says he doesn&rsquo;t write music every day. There are days when he records ideas on his phone, and sometimes, he doesn&rsquo;t write music at all. He doesn't like putting pressure on himself &mdash; he lets music come when it comes. Sometimes, he even forgets to record the idea. &ldquo;It just flies away&rdquo; - he says.

Maestro shares that after finishing his music studies, it took him some time to reopen his mind and understand where he wanted to stand with music &mdash; and what he truly wanted to say with it.
Ludovico Einaudi: It was a natural need, a process. Because for me, music has always been about the need to express. I didn&rsquo;t want to demonstrate anything. I didn&rsquo;t want to show I was good or bad. I just wanted to connect.
I ask if he was scared of going against the classical music system.
Ludovico Einaudi: No, I wasn&rsquo;t. I knew I was doing something that was probably against the idea of someone. But I felt quite comfortable. I felt it was my place. Even at the beginning &mdash; when no one knew if it would work or not &mdash; I felt I was in the right place.
Lira Bekbolatova: I wonder, what does success mean to you now?
Ludovico Einaudi: It's a connection. It&rsquo;s a kind of love you find with your audience. It&rsquo;s an exchange of love. Because when I do what I do, at the end of the day - it&rsquo;s all for love. When you feel there&rsquo;s a recognition of that love you&rsquo;ve given &mdash; when people come to your concerts and give it back &mdash; then that, to me, is success.

Ludovico Einaudi sees a similarity between how you cook and how you create music: the way you blend the ingredients, the colors &mdash; it&rsquo;s similar to composing a piece of music. Before I leave, I ask one last question: if &ldquo;Summer Portraits&rdquo; had a flavor, what would it taste like?
He smiles. And before giving me the answer, he closes his eyes.
Ludovico Einaudi: I think it would taste of fresh vegetables cooked almost raw. With lots of scents and spices: some basil, garlic, and greens.
He pauses, as if letting the thought settle like the final note of a piece. After a little while, he adds: &ldquo;And colors. Lots of colors.&rdquo;
Many of Ludovico Einaudi&rsquo;s music pieces begin with four chords that form the foundation of the composition. Everything else &mdash; the melody, the variations, the culmination that adds layers of beauty and a variety of emotional experiences &mdash; comes later. And then, in its own time, when it all fades, maestro returns us to the original four chords he introduced to us in the very beginning. Just like bringing us back to Heimat &mdash; to that deep sense of home we&rsquo;re all quietly searching for.
And that, perhaps, is his greatest success of all.

Ludovico Einaudi: “At the End of the Day, It’s All for Love”

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