Interview: Sharon Kam

I'd prepped for this interview, with the clarinettist Sharon Kam, hoping to big up the joy that comes with playing instrumental music. Quite recently, I bought a new clarinet, my first and only upgrade of a clunker of a school instrument. I'd spent time with the pieces in Kam's eclectic International Festival programme, enjoying some of the easier passages, toiling my way through some of the trickier runs, giving up on whole sections of impossible woodwind acrobatics. But I'd loved it, and wanted to bring that pleasure to the conversation.

Turns out I needn't have primed, since Kam, it transpires, radiates her own extraordinary level of joy. There's times when an interviewer need to be circumspect, critical and analytical. And there's times when it's much more enligtening to just enjoy it. Without a doubt, our hour fits the latter category. Describing that magical moment of hitting your stride with a new instrument, Kam says: "the 'bang' of the sound is just there, and that is such a great feeling!" It's spot on, and could just as well describe the German-Israeli's winning energy.

We're speaking after a hard day's rehearsal at the Staatstheater Darmstadt, Hesse, where Kam is premiering a clarinet concerto by the Israeli composer, Tsvi Avni – a still-energetic 92-year-old who attends practice via Zoom and has to be brought down from the ceiling afterwards with reassurances that the sound quality he's hearing isn't reflective of the upcoming two performances. Kam describes him as a "legend" and the experience as "really very special". She is tired but seems exilarated. "I am!" she agrees. "I'm always excited about what I do, and I'm always 100 per cent inside what I do, and I'm always really needing to feel like I gave my best, not hanging behind an experiment or something".

And so it is with the programme she's bringing to Edinburgh, with the Italian pianist Enrico Pace ("he is exceptional so you gotta use him!"). It stands out in the brochure as a setlist of extraordinary ambition and diversity: from the Brahms clarinet sonata which set the tone for piano and clarinet ensembles for the next century, to Alban Berg's Vier Stücke, which puts tonality and rhythm to the sword; from the folk dance rhythms of Lutosławski's Dance Preludes to the syncopation and latin rhythms of the Horovitz Sonatina; from the melody of Schumann's Fantasiestücke to the incredible frenzy of notes that combine for Francaix's Tema con Variazione. "It's a scary programme for me, because it's like it's having too many notes, and too many things to do."

This is, she explains, really just a way of squeezing as much as possible from the opportunity in Edinburgh: "I don't know how often a clarinet recital actually happens in the festival. If you have the rare occasion of having one and a half hours to show who you are, you either do a romantic program which is always very nice, or do a French program, which is also very nice or an English program. But if a festival says, just give us what you want, and I can create a program which in involves all of the clarinet stuff, you know. I thought: why not just show off all the stuff we can do?"

We talk through the setlist, me effusing on my attempts to muddle through the pieces with the naive zeal of a recent convert, Kam warmly embracing my enthusiasm while offering more insighful reflections of her own. Generous doesn't even cover it: "I am a big fan of every person who has another profession, and still takes the time to touch their instruments. Don't give up! The passion for it is so much more important than how it sounds, really!" she offers. Thanks Sharon.

She has an obvious connection to all of the pieces. On the Lutosławski ("like walking in an exhibition. So you have the time in front, of the paintings and either it catches you or it doesn't"), she talks about having met the composer once. "He said 'all these stupid student pieces', and I'm like, 'what!'". On the Brahms, which she has recorded and played often, I wonder if it ever gets stale? She's doesn't miss a beat, leaping in with an explanation of why excitement remains in performance for her: "But Enrico [Pace] is such a fantastic pianist. I remember the first time I played the fantasy pieces with him in a concert. I almost forgot to play, because I was so infatuated by his playing. I want to play these pieces again because I'm playing them differently than I ever did". On the alienating complexity of the Berg, which I tried and failed to count my way through, she provides a wonderful window in: "After everything is its place, the music comes. It's very tight work between the clarinet and piano. It's not something you can do alone at all. So this is very, very important for both to really know the piece, and to really put everything into place in order to be able to be completely free afterwards. But the freedom only comes when everything is completely exactly and then you don't have to worry about it being exact, and then it it starts living, you know."

But it's the Horovitz that Kam most lights up over. "He just passed away and it's one of those things we just have to play to keep him in our memories. It's very close to my heart. Twice he heard me playing it. I met him twice and he commented on my playing. He was thankful and always happy when his piece was being played." She goes on: "I don't know anything else like it. It's very, very emotional, and it's very short and but it still leaves you with this sort of taste for more."