Chapter 56

056. Beinoff Symphony (3)

After finishing her lecture, Professor Celine returned to her office and looked at the evaluation forms that were already filled out.

The papers were filled with impressions and evaluations of the students' presentations.

She fell into a brief reverie as she looked down, then put on her reading glasses.

...And 15 minutes later.

The student who received the best evaluation came to the office. To be precise, Professor Celine had called her.

"Are you here?"

"Yes, Professor..."

The student's face was tense.

The faculty of Bard College is world-renowned, and Professor Celine is a famous maestro who has judged international competitions.

It was natural for a first-year student, who had been called to this space for the first time, to be nervous.

"It's nothing much. I just wanted to listen to the piece you played earlier, so I went to a site called SoundCloud, but it was full of popular music, so I couldn't find it. I'm sorry. I'm a bit of a computer illiterate."

Professor Celine pointed to her laptop and smiled warmly.

Only then did the student's expression, which had been darting around, calm down.

"Actually, it took me a few days to find it..."

She didn't forget to subtly highlight her effort as she approached Professor Celine and typed on the keyboard.

[Brynner]

The user with that nickname appeared. When she clicked on it, the tracks he had uploaded appeared one after another.

The student scrolled through to find the piece she had played.

"Here, this 'Snow on the Art Center' is the piece I played today."

"Snow on the Art Center? That's a very intuitive title. But, are all the other tracks on here also by this composer?"

In response to Professor Celine's question, the student nodded, saying it seemed that way.

This surprised Professor Celine. The number of tracks clearly exceeded dozens.

"Thank you. You can go now if you want."

The student left the office, and Professor Celine's gaze fixed on the screen.

She slowly moved the mouse to play the track the student had pointed out.

Sure enough, the violin melody she had heard earlier played, and she marveled again.

'Certainly, the level is high.'

During the presentation, she had found the piece strangely cold yet warm. The theme of snow fit perfectly.

The composer seemed to have aimed to express a light snowfall, and that intention was clearly reflected in the piece.

Not only that, the arrangement was also excellent. At first glance, it seemed simple, but it was far from a thoughtless composition. It looked easy, but coming up with it was a different matter entirely.

'A skilled composer.'

Judging by this piece alone, she could only evaluate it as such.

This made her curious.

What would the other tracks be like?

She clicked on one of the many tracks displayed on the screen and played it.

Gradually, her curiosity turned into amazement and then into anticipation.

'Will the next track be this good too?'

...And her expectations were indeed met,

'This one too?'

They grew like a snowball.

Finally, Professor Celine whistled.

She had been told it was a place for posting compositions.

While some famous singers use it for promotion, it is primarily a platform for aspiring artists to post their work to gain recognition.

It was strange to see classical compositions posted there. That's why the students had laughed.

So, it was even stranger.

These tracks...

...These high-level tracks.

'Why did he post them here?'

#

[The presentation went well! Thanks to the sheet music you sent, it was really smooth. Many friends struggled to find sheet music for the piece they chose, given the nature of the assignment. Plus, I received praise for the piece fitting my performance style. It's all thanks to you, the composer!]

I smiled when I read the message.

To think my piece was played at school.

I would love to see the video.

'This is secretly satisfying.'

I smiled faintly and put my phone down, and Jin-gyu, who was driving, said,

"We're almost there. Do you see the white building over there?"

The building he pointed to was a stark white structure.

The Beinoff Foundation's building, designed by a famous Russian architect inspired by Tolstoy, stood there.

Unlike the Tchaikovsky Conservatory, it had a modern feel with many curves, giving it a distinctly Russian atmosphere.

The unique building in the heart of the city itself was a sight to behold.

...I would be practicing here for two weeks.

What kind of practice would it be?

What would my role be in that practice?

Since Pavel had given no hints, focusing on the competition, my curiosity had only grown.

With a strange sense of excitement, I entered the building, and a few gazes felt particularly intense.

"Everyone seems to recognize you."

I smiled awkwardly in response to Jin-gyu's comment.

"I still haven't adjusted."

I followed him down the hallway.

The hallways, a characteristic of art centers worldwide, were maze-like,

and at the end, a subtle breeze seemed to carry the sound of instruments.

Crescendo (gradually getting louder).

As we approached the door, Jin-gyu opened it, and

it felt as if a baton was sharply slicing through the air in front of me.

Pavel's gestures, even from a distance, exuded such presence.

The orchestra, in unison, began to play.

The sound pressure, heavy and oppressive, enveloped me.

──!

This was the first impression of the Beinoff Symphony, known as one of the world's best.

#

...It was already the third practice session.

Pavel looked at the exhausted musicians.

Rachmaninoff's Symphony No. 2.

Having played the entire piece, which took nearly 50 minutes, three times, they were understandably drained.

Feeling the need for a break, he noticed Seoho sitting at a distance.

The young man, who had entered during the first practice, had been sitting in the same spot for two hours, watching the same piece without moving.

His dedication and curiosity were endearing, and Pavel smiled faintly.

"Seoho."

The musicians turned to look at him in response to his call.

True to the Beinoff Symphony's reputation for being free-spirited yet disciplined in music, they had been so engrossed in practice that they hadn't noticed Seoho's arrival.

The members, some of the most famous musicians in Moscow, looked at him with curiosity.

"…Yes?"

Seoho responded, and Pavel asked,

"What do you think?"

"…What?"

Seoho's expression was blank at the sudden request for an evaluation.

But he couldn't keep everyone waiting with that face, so he reluctantly spoke.

"It was amazing. I didn't find it boring at all, even after listening to this long piece repeatedly."

The members laughed at this.

Pavel, who had also been smiling, asked another question.

"Doesn't your body itch to play?"

"It itches."

Seoho smiled. How could it not, after watching such a performance?

Pavel, sensing the need to lift the mood after the grueling practice, suggested,

"Shall we do a little piano concerto? What do you think?"

His gaze was on the members, and their reactions were mostly positive.

"Sounds fun?"

"I'm in. A spontaneous concerto with a competition winner… It should be interesting."

"Then, what piece will we play?"

Pavel looked at Seoho.

"Is there a piece you want to play?"

"What will you be practicing next?"

"There's nothing planned. We decided to focus on Symphony No. 2 today."

Shaking his head, Seoho began to think.

"Hmm…"

"Go ahead and choose. It's just for fun."

Giving him the freedom, Seoho's choice a moment later was completely unexpected.

"Then, can I just improvise to this piece?"

"…What?"

Not only Pavel but also the members were taken aback.

After all, the Symphony No. 2 they had just practiced was a typical orchestral piece without a piano part.

Seoho, who couldn't have been unaware of this, shrugged and added,

"It's just for fun."

Pavel's lips curled into a smile.

"Indeed, it should be fun."

#

What is the biggest difference between classical and modern music?

I can't say what renowned musicologists might think, but as someone who has lived through both eras, I believe it lies in 'creation' and 'reproduction.'

The difference is as clear as the words themselves.

Classical music was created by composers.

But the genre, now called 'classical,' is now only reproduced by performers.

As a result, something has almost disappeared.

Improvisation.

When people think of improvisation, they often think of jazz, but it actually has roots in classical music. Jazz solos evolved from classical cadenzas.

I've seen it many times. Performers entering a dense orchestral piece like an outsider.

For them, it was a kind of play, a game. Like mathematicians solving complex formulas, they improvised within the structure of an already composed piece.

Some even created music that surpassed the original.

To me, who had only listened to music, it was like composing in every moment, almost magical.

And now.

'…I've never done this before. Is it possible?'

I am trying to wield that magic.

Despite my worries.

I am already sitting at the piano, my hands naturally resting on the keys.

And I am enjoying it. After all, this is the moment I've longed for in my previous life. The chance to finally try improvisation.

I pull out the melodies that have been imprinted in my mind after listening to this piece about three times. Then I start to find a melody that fits with them.

It's like adding another sauce to a perfectly balanced dish.

To maintain the balance, even a single note must not be out of place.

"…"

I lifted my head to signal that I was ready, looking at Pavel.

Pavel, confirming this, lightly waved his baton at his members.

─!

The fourth practice session began.

The heavy and powerful sound that Rachmaninoff aimed for spread like a dense net.

It was so tight that it seemed to leave no room for anything else, layer upon layer.

A moment later, Pavel glanced at me. Some members did the same.

It seemed they were checking if I was unable to join in since I hadn't done anything.

But I didn't force my way in. There was no need to rush. I just waited. For the moment when the melodies intertwined and opened up.

So….

'Like this.'

─!

The first note sounded.

Like the chimes of the Kremlin Palace ringing over a heavy sound, it was lively.

─!

And the next note.

My fingers slipped into the gaps of the net.

They didn't clash or overwhelm, nor were they so lacking as to be unnoticed.

For 10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes….

The orchestra played in concert.

The members, who had seemed to approach it lightly, were now fully immersed in the piece, and Pavel was conducting with sweat on his brow.

In the midst of this, I continued to fill the gaps between the melodies.

And when the piece was completed without a hitch,

──!

"Phew…"

I took my hands off the keys and exhaled.

I could finally smile happily.

Just the fact that there was no dissonance was quite satisfying.

'It was fun.'

I turned my head with a smile.

The gazes of Pavel and the members of the Beinoff Symphony were already on me, and I wondered.

This performance would be their first impression of me.

What kind of impression did I leave?