Recording Solo Piano with Atzko Kohashi
It's almost twelve years ago now, yet I remember it clearly. One of those mornings where everything feels quiet with purpose. Peter Bjørnild and I had arrived early to prepare Studio 1. The Steinway D had been tuned before sunrise. The equipment was in place. And Atzko Kohashi was ready to play.
This was our first solo piano recording for Sound Liaison. Just a pianist, a magnificent instrument, and the room itself. We wanted to do something special.
The Decca Tree — Above the Piano
The Decca Tree is a classic microphone configuration originally developed by engineers at Decca Records in the 1950s for orchestral recording. It consists of three omnidirectional microphones arranged in a T-shape, a center mic at the top, and two flanking mics spread wide to the left and right. Together, they capture a wide, natural stereo image with depth and air. Over the decades, it became the standard approach for capturing large ensembles and symphony orchestras.
Our idea was to apply that same philosophy to the piano. Instead of recording the Steinway from the conventional perspective, microphones placed near the open lid, we removed the lid entirely. This gave us direct access to the full acoustic space above the instrument. We then positioned the Decca Tree directly overhead, letting it capture the piano the way it captures an orchestra: openly, naturally, with the room breathing around it.
For a little more intimacy and definition, we added an ORTF pair close to the strings. ORTF is a stereo configuration using two cardioid microphones angled at 110 degrees apart and spaced 17 centimeters between capsules, designed to mimic the distance and angle of human ears. It gives a focused, present sound with a natural stereo image. Placed close to the instrument, it added a subtle directness to the broader picture painted by the Decca Tree above. The result was a layered perspective: the room and the instrument in conversation, with just enough intimacy underneath.
Letting the Moment Happen
After a short soundcheck, we stepped back. That was a deliberate choice. Atzko had a clear musical idea for this recording, she wanted to play the way a poet writes: not from a fixed plan, but from feeling. From instinct. She described it beautifully in her own words: the act of composing in the moment, like improvisation in jazz, choosing each phrase the way a poet chooses words, aware that each one carries its own soul.
So we let her play. Long stretches, without interruption. No stopping to adjust levels, no endless takes, no technical anxieties bleeding into the music. The idea was for her to find her own flow and stay in it.
Listening from the control room, Peter and I heard it happen. There were moments where the music seemed to breathe on its own. Where Atzko's touch on the Steinway felt entirely uncontrived, present, searching, honest.
The recording chain was as pure as we could make it, captured in DXD at 352kHz. Now 12 years later it is mixed through our analog stereo chain and mastered to PCM 768kHz.
Why Did It Take So Long?
That's a question I still can't fully answer. The recordings were there. The performances were beautiful. Life, other projects, timing, perhaps all of these played a role. But sometimes recordings have their own patience. They wait until the moment is right. And listening back now, with distance, that quality Atzko was reaching for, the sense of improvisation as poetry, of jazz as a living language passed from one generation to the next, it's all there.
She describes the great jazz masters as stars in the sky: distant, unreachable, yet impossible to stop looking at.
I'm glad we finally let it meet the world.
Atzko Kohashi - Soul Eyes
