AN UNUSUAL TEACHING CHALLENGE

Last night, as part of the Andorra SaxFest, I attended a concert by Dmitry Pinchuk, double winner of the prestigious competitions of Dinant and Andorra (among others).

Dima, whom I've known since he was... 7 years old (?), will become my student next year (along with his brilliant wife) at the Lyon Conservatory.

After a concert of stratospheric quality (notably the Sibelius), my colleagues whispered a very friendly "You, you are in trouble":))). And indeed, once I put my ego aside, once I've accepted the fact that I've worked my whole life to avoid this very situation, I'll clearly have a student in my class next year who plays better than me.

We can always point out the tiny flaws that occasionally creep in here and there. But having recorded videos in one take just last week, striving for flawless technique combined with the musical inspiration of the moment and the energy needed to tie it all together, I'm well placed to say that Dima's performance last night is now beyond my own abilities. And the kid is only 19, precisely the week I turn 54. Happy birthday, Michat!

He manages his emotions with the calm of an old hand; he masters his saxophone to a degree of finesse that I, as an expert, can envision, but without being able to claim to teach him techniques to do better; the quality of his intonation is quite miraculous when you know the saxophone's shortcomings in this regard; in short, this existential question obviously arises: "What am I going to teach this boy?" I told him last night between champagne and petits fours, "we'll talk about music" to which he replied "that's what I'm looking for."

I truly don't think I can teach him anything fundamentally new on an instrumental level. He'll certainly be able to assimilate my sound techniques, my phrasing identities, my vibrato style, etc. But given the skills he's already acquired, it won't take him long to master all of this. I estimate it will be sorted out in a few weeks.

Yesterday, to be honest, it was the program that first caught my attention and gave me some teaching ideas.

His transcription of the Sibelius Violin Concerto was simply magical. And his handling of the piano reduction (bravo Takahiro!*) allowed him to generate a sound almost worthy of a sonata, while simultaneously recreating the generosity of the orchestra. The mysterious, muted moods were present, the transitional colors establishing the different atmospheres were wonderfully suggested, and the illusion of the fortissimo tuttis was thrilling. Remarkable. The rest of his program? Creston, Ibert, Muczynski, Piazzolla. In short, quality academic music in the classical saxophone niche, and transcriptions.

I know the Russian school's appetite for tonal music and transcriptions. I'm familiar with the process, having experienced it myself. Why play new pieces that might offend our sensibilities, destabilize our certainties, and all this without any guarantee of success?... when the history of music has done all the work for us, meticulously sorting through the mass of music produced by more or less inspired composers and retaining only the masterpieces that are sure to provoke applause from the masses!

Part of the answer: Because the artist's mission is not just to provide the audience with a pleasant experience. His mission is to change the world, in the sense of "guiding humanity towards a better world." And the only world over which artists have this micro-macro power is, in fact, the world in which they live, their era, the one of which they are actors and witnesses. Dima's existence will be linked ad vitam aeternam to the first half of the 21st century.

Sibelius's Violin Concerto, for example, was premiered in the spring of 1905. Karel Halíř was then playing the premiere with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Richard Strauss!

My first task will be to inspire Dima to engage in this creative process in addition to his work interpreting existing repertoire (original or transcribed) so that he can find "his" Sibelius (born in 2004 ;-)), creating "his" concerto for saxophone in 2030 under the direction of "his" Richard Strauss (probably born in 2001...). This is THE condition (like Tim McAllister's career on the other continent) for Dima to access collaborations of his caliber, with contemporary artists of his generation, allowing him to legitimately play one day with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra (I hope I'll get free tickets).

The second point became apparent to me during the Creston, Ibert, and Muczynski sequence. Listening to Dima in this classical repertoire, which I've been teaching without fail every year for 30 years, you can understand why the young man is so effective in competitions. His fingers are solid, his playing is brilliant without being arrogant, all the technical and musical pitfalls are intelligently avoided; this is truly top-of-the-range music. The old debate about "technician but not musician" or "musician but not technician" is irrelevant here. Dima is a hit, he combines all the skills and is incredibly effective in all areas of his playing. The only limit to my admiration was the very choice of this repertoire and its lukewarm nature.

This was the subject of an early discussion a little later in the evening between Nacho Gascon, Mariano Garcia (okay for the wood-fired paella, Mariano, I'll bring the wine), and Aiwen Zhang. Creston because it's a lovely slow movement and brings a bit of gentleness to this brutal world? Okay. Muczynski because it's a saxophonist festival and you have to make your mark by showing who's boss? That's fine. But playing Ibert's concertino with piano in concert... For me, that's too much. I stipulated just a week ago, while videotaping concert repertoire with piano, that of course, this was an educational demonstration and that under no circumstances would anyone think of playing these "working versions" in concert... This saxophone-piano reduction is really a simple rehearsal tool and not a concert piece in itself. The Sibelius works because it was conceived as a revisitation; it's obvious, which is already an artistic project. But Ibert?

I know that Russians are less likely to ask themselves these sorts of slightly snobbish questions about the legitimacy and relevance of playing a particular piece in a particular version or not. It's a little game that better suits the fussy, nitpicking, and often narrow-minded minds of us little French. Still, even wonderfully executed, the piano reduction of Ibert's concertino failed to give me goosebumps the way the intimate account of the sonata is supposed to.

The question of artistic identity depends greatly on the choice of repertoire and the design of a concert program. An instrumental recital is a story we tell, a sound, a play, an actor's performance. Moreover, we are also what we choose to play. Yesterday, in this sequence of conservatory music, I missed this artistic identity.

It goes hand in hand with the identity of the sound, the signature incarnation that will allow Dima to be recognized among thousands from the first note, the mark of great musicians. It seems to be under construction. I must be able to accompany him so that he masters this dramaturgy and leaves his mark on his territory from the first to the last note. With such talent, it's high time to play hooky and break the rules. The Shuhari will, as usual, be a valuable learning tool.

The last point is still pending and will have to wait for the face-to-face meeting next year. It is, in fact, common to all students. First and foremost, foreign students exiled in the Lyon metropolitan area. It's the question of autonomy.

I've always seen Dima wonderfully surrounded. Today, I see him thriving with a loving wife. I've always seen him supported by a family that is present and passionate without being intrusive or stifling. I'm also familiar with Nikita Zimin's clannish teaching, which propelled the Russian school to the forefront in just a few years (this could be a topic of discussion in its own right). Love, family, school.

The emancipation of this young artist is a key element of his training from now on. I need to see what he has in him solo-solo so that he can draw on his own resources to express his unique talent. This work will be done alone with himself. The young man must somehow become a man (Tatyana, his mother will hate me). And for this traditional rite of passage, it seems I've been selected to be part of the jury ;-)!

At a later date, if our collaboration proves fruitful and his talent isn't limited to the art of combining sounds, I might be able to reveal to him the secrets of my beef bourguignon, my tarte tatin, and my salmon and spinach pie, but let's not rush things...

I'm delighted, Dima. Your coming to Lyon the year my class celebrates its 30th anniversary is a real gift. I'm not promising you anything, except that I'll do my best to support you and make myself useful. Isn't that, after all, the basis of teaching?