Discover how Filipino pianist Aidan Ezra Baracol’s unique love for rhythm ignited his journey into classical music and inspired his artistic growth as a CCP scholar
Out of all the instruments he could learn, Aidan Ezra Baracol was drawn to the piano—not so much for the music it produces but more for the rhythm it makes. He began his musical journey at the age of 11, initially inspired by his grandmother, who had played in a church before, and by a deep desire to express his emotions beyond words. “This little fascination of mine turned into a source of passion,” Baracol says, recalling the first time he played in front of an audience and the overwhelming feeling of connection it brought.
Baracol’s recognition as a scholar at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) is not just an honour but a testament to his dedication to artistic growth and the representation of Filipino cultural values. His disciplined yet authentic approach to performance, balanced with personal reflection, is a source of inspiration for aspiring artists.
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Above From a modest upright piano at home to the halls of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, Baracol's journey reflects discipline, reflection and cultural pride
Can you tell us how you began your journey with the instrument, piano and what first drew you to music at such a young age?
I started playing piano at the age of 11. I think I was first drawn, not so much to music itself, but to rhythm. When I was young, I used to sort of craft improvised instruments out of tin cans and simple, everyday things.
Occasionally, I had—and my parents noticed—a habit of picking up certain melodies I’d hear on television. We had a little upright piano at home, and I would try to play those melodies exactly as I heard them. I think that was when I really felt drawn into the world of music.
One of my main inspirations was my grandma, who used to play in a church. She started teaching me how to read notes and understand music. Eventually, this little fascination of mine turned into a source of passion. As I started to explore and discover classical music, I was enrolled in formal training.
But I remember that what truly drew me in wasn’t just the sound of the music itself, but its ability to express things I didn’t yet have words for.
As a scholar of the CCP, what does that recognition mean to you both personally and professionally?
I think it’s an immense honour—really. It means a lot to me, especially as the CCP has symbolised years of artistic and cultural excellence in the Philippines. For me, it's a source of motivation, even inspiration.
Knowing that the path I've chosen is one that is shared is encouraging. It pushes me to aspire towards artistic growth, to remain committed to my craft and to represent the cultural and artistic values of the country. Though I know I still have a long way to go, the support genuinely inspires me—to grow and to share what I've come to realise.
Was there a particular performance or moment that you would consider your breakthrough as a pianist?
I feel that every performance, for me, is something—there’s always something to discover, something to realise. But if I had to choose, perhaps it would be NAMCYA 2020. This was during lockdown, and I had a lot of time to myself to practise. I think it was the first time I truly felt disciplined in my approach to playing the piano.
It taught me how to be more precise—down to each note, each phrase—and to reflect more deeply on the music and how I wanted to express it. So yes, I think that’s what NAMCYA gave me: a sense of precision and discipline.
Now that I think of it, there’s another aspect I realised during my performance at the PPO Young People’s Concert in 2023. That was one of the first public performances post-lockdown, and it was a surreal experience—performing in front of an audience again, not just a camera. In that moment, I felt a real connection with the audience.
So I’d say those are the two aspects of music-making I discovered. NAMCYA taught me discipline and precision, while the concert taught me how to experiment and connect.
How do you prepare for your shows before performing? How do you reflect, or what do you do in the moments before getting on stage?
It’s quite difficult. It can get overwhelming, especially when you start feeling nervous—like when you're backstage and can see the audience. But I always try to remind myself that music is not about proving something, but about expressing something. It’s less about perfection and more about being authentic to yourself and your experiences.
So I try to maintain a sense of humility. I don’t expect everything to be perfect, but I just try to bring to the table what I have at that moment.
Could you share some challenges you have faced and how you overcame them?
At times, you feel burnt out, and in general, a little overwhelmed balancing studies and performances. But I think this connects to something I’m beginning to realise—which is to trust the process.
It’s about seeing artistic growth not only as marked by concrete achievements, but also by the steps taken to pursue and realise them, even when those steps are challenging.
It’s really a balance. I think it’s a dialogue between music and real-world experiences. So yes, continual growth—each part influencing the other.
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Above Before stepping on stage, Baracol focuses on expression over perfection—bringing authenticity and emotional depth to every performance
Outside of classical music, are there any other genres or musical collaborations you're interested in exploring?
I would say that at the moment, it would be jazz. I've always been fascinated by its spontaneity and the power of improvisation. Sometimes I improvise—not in a polished or refined way, but more as a way of exploring certain harmonies and seeing how I connect with them.
I'm also interested in how music relates to film. I think that's one of my primary influences as well—film music.
Is there any other instrument you're interested in trying out?
I think it would be the guitar for me, but it’s really difficult when you’re a pianist—it can be quite tough. Still, the guitar is something I’d say you can take in any direction.
How do you usually rest?
I like to walk. I like to travel. Sometimes I read, and sometimes I just look out into the world. When I'm in that state, I just like to observe what's around me and take in something new.
What’s one piece of music you always come back to, whether for comfort, inspiration or if you just want a challenge?
It’s constantly shifting at various times in my life, but at the moment I would say Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major. In it, I find a sort of melancholy playfulness. It’s like joy and sorrow, happiness and sadness—all in one breath, all in the same simultaneous concoction.
There’s something comforting and affirming about the music. Every time I come back to it, I discover something new, something insightful and something to ponder.
What advice would you give to other young Filipinos who dream of pursuing music, especially in a country where classical music is still a niche art form?
My advice, based on my years of experience, would be to summon the courage to begin where you are right now, with what you have. For me, it all started simply—with a modest little upright piano at home and a humble fascination. I was blessed to find the right people who supported my craft, but that only happened one step at a time.
So, reach out to mentors and to those who will guide you and share the journey with you. There will probably be difficulties and moments of doubt, but true success is not about perfection. It’s about trusting the process, relentless as it may seem.
With each step forward, one important thing to remember is to lead with gratitude. If your passion comes from a place of authenticity and genuine experience, then you must have the courage to believe that your music and art matter—even if your audience is small, and especially then.
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Credits
Images: courtesy of Aidan Ezra Baracol




