Se defendre et Apparaître

I just came back from a class concert, the first one this year.
Students are having drinks after a long day. I let them enjoy on their own, excusing myself saying I'm too old, though I wanted to participate.

The class concert took place when I was very busy with orchestra projects, chamber music exams, and many other things in the conservatoire.
In a class concert, each one plays a solo repertoire for ten to twenty minutes. Students get tense because many of the pieces are ones they are playing for the first time. On top of that, the president attended today. The number in the audience was unusually large.

Everybody played well in their own way.

I love to see them playing freely as if they are dancing in the sky.

Each one copes with music in his original way, which moves my heart.

Each one plays frantically while having various problems and struggling against the idea that he cannot play properly. I understand that, and am impressed, thinking that they are doing very well and defending themselves well,

Se defendre in French literally means ﾔdefend' , but is usually used to mean fighting well.
What remains after a good fight is music, which appears (apparaître) on its own. Even when one sheds cold sweat, listeners think how freely he plays and how joyfully he plays. There is real individuality, and we can let ourselves feel it without worry.

This is the art at the time.

About ten days ago, I performed Beethoven's violin concerto, as I was asked on very short notice. I had only 4 days for preparation. That was one of the periodical performances of the NHK Symphony Orchestra, and a co-performance with Mr. Hirokami again. As a matter of fact, it can not be done without Mr. Hirokami. It was the same as a live performance, as the TV recording was one take only and no re-recording. It was a big arena in the Suntory Hall. Putting everything aside, what was great was nothing else than Beethoven's music. What it is all about, that is to say, to play that concerto.

There is a real fear which can never be felt until you actually stand on the stage. There are so many pitfalls. You can easily lose yourself when it comes to playing with an orchestra. Playing on your own does not make any music at all. The easy passages you play with ease when you practice, could become suddenly very difficult at the real performance.

Among recent soloists, there are people who tend to think, "In so far as I play my part perfectly, I have very little to do with the orchestra". These people have no problems and make no mistakes, because they do not listen, but it would be a sheer mistake to describe this attitude as a perfect one.

Professor Eto often played, while adjusting to an orchestra. In order to do this, I seriously followed his enthusiastic instructions such as "good preparations" "playing this part slowly" "playing, coordinating with a clarinet", while wondering if I would ever have a chance to play with an orchestra. Everybody who performed with him says that he was very kind to an orchestra. He even stumbled himself because of this. What a loveable person he was!

He repeated that if you know everything, then you are a real soloist.

In my thought, to know everything means to make a simple melody of violin sound rich and deep.

The other day, I was practicing Beethoven's late quartets.
Ms. Yamazaki, a cellist, told me "Please include me when you play", and I thought that was right. I condescend myself and said "Because I can't judge to what extent I include you, I have asked you to practice for six months like this!" Even so, it is difficult "to include someone" in my performance. She says "You are excluding me again", and I got cross and answered back, "Please play with something to include." Usually, that would mean the end, and we would go our separate ways. This kind of conversation cannot take place among professionals.
However, Toko, Ms.Yamazaki's nickname, said, "Even though I offer nothing to include, do play including something, please"

I had to bow.

Knowing every fear and risk very well, the reason did I accepted the offer this time is very simple.

"I do want to play!"

I left my students behind. I was concerned with my children as well, but I am filled with the feeling of music, and the quality and sound of music flood inside me. I tried to pour my experiences, my feelings at this moment into the frame of Beethoven's violin concerto within four days.

I am very sorry for people in Brussels!

My left hand almost bled internally. I tried to manage the damage carefully, as it doesn't hurt or anything.
I felt feverish when I took a rest after the general final rehearsal, waiting for a performance. Is it a cold?
No. I can't get a cold, as I myself is a substitute.
I talked to Beethoven, "You have really done a great job". I felt that I had prepared well with serious commitment, being driven by the overwhelming powerful waves, which must have come from Beethoven.
I don't know whether it was because of my fever or something else.

I need infinite time.

And music is certainly alive!

Start playing on the stage.

Someone says "Once you start playing, everything must be OK", but it is not the case. This piece is something where you can't relax until the very end. I felt a joy of relief and smiled only when I was playing the last theme, feeling that I had finally arrived this far.

On the second day, I did not even practice, concentrating on giving my hands a rest after the first performance. However, when I started performing, I felt uncomfortable. On that day, that uneasiness remained until the very end of the performance, and I could not hear well because of my cold. I thought my violin did not sound good, but it was too late anyway. I had a runny nose. I heard someone tell me that flowers (hana in Japanese) were to be presented after the performance , as "mucus" (hanamizu in Japanese) should be presented.

The very reason I could enjoy my students' performances from my heart, is because I myself had this kind of experience and shared the feeling of how much they concentrated, and because I can share such a deep experience, which cannot be translated into words.

Here, there are no teachers and students. We are all comrades and fellow soldiers!

I have learned this from Professor Eto.

It was a blessed moment of being a teacher.