God of Piano - God of Piano chapter 104

“Huh, pretending to be proud.”

Heather clicked her tongue. Rowoon laughed inwardly. I wondered what kind of expression this woman would make when she found out that this was not bragging, but the truth.

“So, you want to express the love of Brahms?”

“huh. But I still don’t know what love is.”

“・・・・・Huhm, right? Did you say you’ve never been in a relationship?”

“I’ve been in a relationship, but… well.”

When we broke up, he wasn’t particularly heartbroken, but can we say he loved Kate? Rowoon wasn’t that brazen.

“I haven’t had a proper relationship. Try it. love. What kind of music would a musician do without love?”

“······ So, you don’t know that well?”

“Whoops, that’s no comment.”

Heather put her index finger to her lips and gave a hissed laugh. Rowoon shook his head.

“What do I want from you?”

“Can you hear me? your playing?”

Heather shrugged.

“Then maybe I can tell you something helpful?”

“…”

That was right. Rowoon looked at Heather for a while, then got up and headed to the practice room. And sat down in front of the piano.

What will Heather feel when she hears his performance now? Now his performance score was 57 points. The performance log was yet to be obtained.

However, because of that, Rowoon’s performance now had no choice but to contain Rowoon’s own understanding more deeply. Rowoon was curious. Will Heather be able to hear Rowoon’s voice? Will he be able to feel the confusion of Brahms that he wanted to put in this song?

And there is only one thing Rowoon can do to solve that question,

It was just playing.

Rowoon’s fingers began to fumble with the keys. No, it wasn’t just the keyboard that he stuttered. The life Brahms lived, the love he had for Clara Schumann, the despair of not being able to fulfill him, the sense of immorality, the apology and respect for his teacher, and the ridicule and pity for the stupid self who pushed himself into this situation.

Through Brahms’ eyes, through Rowoon’s eyes, Rowoon tried to point out all of them one by one. Every time I pressed a key, I tried to release the messages that Brahms had squeezed into it.

Is Heather feeling it?

don’t know, don’t know I can not know. He only feels it. When he feels the message with all the nerves in his body, he vaguely believes that the audience will naturally feel what he feels.

And just like that, when Brahms’s Schumann Variations flow,

Heather’s eyebrows trembled involuntarily.

‘······different. also.’

The reason why a pianist named Rowoon is getting attention like he is now is not simply because of his outstanding skills. Compared to the others, Rowoon’s skill itself wasn’t overwhelmingly superior.

However, despite this, the reason he is receiving so much attention that he is virtually no different from the main character is purely because of his attitude.

It’s like listening to a story, not a performance. okay. Rowoon’s performance always contained an unknown narrative. Something that is linguistically incomprehensible and does not need to be explained.

‘I’m still clumsy though.’

It was natural. It wasn’t even a few days since I had time to practice. It is said that I have challenged a competition with this song before, but it was before. At that time, everything that was in his fingers could not be revived overnight, and even if he did, it was unknown what level Rowoon had at that time.

But even so, I felt that Rowoon’s clumsy performance had more to it than the others’ clumsy playing. When the sketch is over and the coloring is over, I feel that a qualitatively different picture cannot but be born.

And when he feels that way, Heather involuntarily feels her heart pounding. Blood rushes through the veins like a racehorse, and the limbs go numb for a moment, then come back to life more sensitive than ever. The world becomes clearer, and the sound that touches your ears seems to flow through your ears and travel down your spine.

‘······Want to play something like this?’

From noble mtl dot com

Heather asks herself for a moment. This is a question that has been asked many times before. And even though I know that if I think a little deeper about it, I will be able to get the answer, but I don’t bother looking for the answer. It’s because they know that holding the answer isn’t always the right answer. She shouldn’t know the answer. to keep the correct answer.

And, just like that, the performance was over. As always, Rowoon was soaked in the aftertaste of the moment, then raised his head. Then he lifted his sparkling eyes and looked at her.

“how was it?”

“…how it was and even if you sleep.”

Heather replied with a slight grunt.

“It was good.”

“It’s too simple.”

“It’s just, that’s right. It’s very delicate, but it seems sad, and it seems sad, but there’s also a feeling of happiness somewhere. It’s amazing that Brahms’ solemn yet majestic feeling is expressed with just one piano, and…”

For what she tried to do with a single word, ‘It was good’, Heather went on to say her feelings at length. I didn’t say it briefly because I had nothing to say, it meant I said it briefly because I had too much to say.

However, despite this, Rowoon seemed to be dissatisfied with something.

“What about the story?”

“story?”

“The story I was trying to tell. Do you understand what it means?”

“How can you understand something like that just by listening to the song…?”

“……Was it not enough?”

It’s not that it’s not enough, it’s that it’s impossible. No matter how well you try to incorporate narrativity into music, where is the person who can feel more than that vague image?

But Heather couldn’t bear to say that. It was because of Rowoon’s attitude of asking if the story was delivered or not, his strong conviction that every performance should have a story. How can you be so sure? Amazingly strong.

‘okay. That’s probably why you’re different.’

That stubbornness led Rowoon to this place. Heather unknowingly pinched her toes. An unknown emotion took hold of her. So, involuntarily, she had to jump up and say:

“I have to go.”

“already?”

“huh. See you later.”

Heather left the practice room. Rowoon made a dumbfounded expression for a moment, then looked at the piano again as if he couldn’t help it.

‘······Well, it seems that the reviews were good.’

It seemed that the ability to express narrative was still lacking. Well, I didn’t even know if I hadn’t passed 60 points yet, so I didn’t even know it was ridiculous to hope for that.

‘For now, aim for 60 performance points.’

It would be better if I could get a performance score of 70 or even Brahms’ personal tutoring, but what I was aiming for right away was a performance log. If we can find out how Brahms played this song, it will definitely be possible to play better than now.

‘It will be different from anyone else’s Brahms.’

Only he can fully understand Brahms.

Under that belief, Rowoon practiced over and over again. As the song was already familiar to me, the performance score started to rise remarkably quickly, and then…

Around lunch the next day, Rowoon’s performance finally passed 60 points.

And that was the moment when I obtained Brahms’ performance journal. After putting earphones in his ears, closing his eyes, and playing the journal for a while, Rowoon immediately woke up with an expression that he couldn’t read his thoughts. Then, as if possessed, he went over to the piano and began tapping the keys.

It happened gradually that people felt the change.

The students passing by, the students who were immersed in practicing for a long time nearby, and the students lying on the sofa in front of the practice room looking for a quick nap all naturally listened to Rowoon’s performance.

and,

“······what?”

felt.

“Is this… Rowoon?”

That the real Brahms’ music has now appeared in this place.

＜ Two Hearts (2) ＞

＜ Two Hearts (3) ＞

It was unavoidable that Rowoon’s performance brought fresh shock to people.

Of course, this performance was a song where Rowoon could show off his best skills in many ways. Dog Waltz, Chopin’s Ballad No. 2, Liszt’s Mazepa, etc. may be lacking in many ways compared to the songs he prepared properly after getting the Walkman, but even so, this song was once prepared by Rowoon with all his might.

“They said they played this song before. I guess that’s why I’m doing better.”

“······What is it. So, are you saying that what you wrote so far is really a song you prepared in a week?”

“I guess so.”

“A monster is… a monster.”

As fellow pianists, they knew how outrageous that was. Among them, only a handful of people presented songs that had not been played before in this contest. And even fewer of them had good grades.

However, Rowoon took first place in the first contest, and showed a decent appearance to the extent of being in the top ranks in the second contest.

And now, this performance was letting us know that Rowoon’s performance at that time was absolutely not Rowoon’s original skill.

“That guy, why did you go to a place like the California Conservatory? Just come to Curtis.”

Emile grunted. But even in the midst of that, his eyes were smiling, and he seemed to like Rowoon in many ways.

“Isn’t that guy going to be number one again this time?”

“······Well, she’s the strongest candidate for the championship than anyone else.”

“Should I watch a documentary too…”

“What kind of documentary is this all of a sudden?”

“That guy always says something. The understanding of the original songwriter should be prioritized above all else. Seeing you do that well, I think you’re right. If you look for a documentary about Brahms, wouldn’t there be something to be inspired by?”

“Hmm, honestly, I wonder how effective it will be, but if you’re going to watch it, let’s see it together. It will be fun.”

It was like that. Whether people liked it or not, they had no choice but to be conscious of Rowoon and follow him. Rowoon’s results were better than anyone else’s.

And while the documentary expedition was being formed, Rowoon ironically faced a wall.

‘······Still, sorry.’

After his playing level went up, Rowoon’s playing log became more detailed than before. For example, it can be seen as a level where you can even read what kind of emotions the performer has while playing.

But because of that, Rowoon couldn’t help but realize it even more. What is in Brahms’ performance is not in Rowoon’s performance.

Rowoon’s performance does not contain the numerous scars engraved at the end of his long life’s journey.

And at that time, Rowoon played the composition journal again.