The Healing Life of a Music Genius - Chapter 100



Only Noblemtl

100 silently

* * *

Beethoven Piano Sonata No. 17.

Tempest.

When Beethoven’s secretary Schindler asked Beethoven for clues to understand this song.

This is a title that came about because someone told me to read Shakespeare’s The Tempest.

⌜The Tempest⌟ is a work that closely follows the ‘rule of three unity’, which is a requirement of classical drama.

One incident.

time of day.

One place.

This work depicts what happens to the people of a ship that was wrecked by a storm and arrive on a remote island.

The storm created by magic was to punish their sins,

The wizard Prospero, who created magic to punish them, eventually forgives them.

Shakespeare’s last work, The Tempest, was a play.

What did Beethoven think after reading his play?

Did he want to express his anger about losing his hearing?

Or, like the character in the play who forgave everything, did he come to view everything that happened to him with tolerance?

Beethoven did not specifically mention this.

So everything was just guesswork.

What a musician must do starts from here.

You have to look at the same score and decide for yourself how to solve it.

That’s what interpretation was.

Looking at Beethoven’s life.

Imagine the time when you composed the song.

Substitute myself there.

Or project Beethoven onto me.

If there are 100 musicians, there are 100 stories.

Although there may be similar stories, they cannot be the same.

So I solved ⌜Tempest⌟ like a math problem.

What about tempo and dynamics?

How to touch.

then.

How should my fingers move when touching the keys?

By raising your finger?

Fully unfolded?

Bent over halfway?

So when should you take your hands off the keyboard?

What about pedals?

Can I step on it halfway?

Should I go all the way?

Or, would you like to boldly change some of Beethoven’s instructions?

That also makes sense.

It was Beethoven who created this music, but it was me who expressed this music.

Every note has a meaning.

Each and every note of ⌜Tempest⌟, which had to be played for about 25 minutes, had intention.

Each person has a direction they want to go in.

It was the performer’s job to interpret and decide.

Therefore, the ⌜Tempest⌟ I was playing was my storm.

Beethoven showed the way, and I was the one who had to walk that path.

It was a storm I had to play with.

Before I knew it, the first movement was over.

Usually, when a movement ends, the performer takes a moment to catch his breath.

Because each movement requires different emotions from the performer.

But I immediately started playing the second movement without stopping.

Anyone who has experienced it firsthand knows.

The storm that has begun does not allow even a moment of relaxation.

Even now, I am playing the faint melody of Adagio (slowly) at a slow pace.

The storm was still here.

My story has a foundation.

This is a story that cannot be said out loud.

But I was able to show it through music.

A musician must know how to reveal himself.

Boldly.

Just as raw.

This is the story Uncle Miller told me.

I engraved his words on the tips of my fingers.

And it carries out exactly that.

This music was mine.

It was something unique that no one could invade.

No matter how strong the professor was, he couldn’t make me change the direction of my fingertips.

The third movement began.

Clear yet repetitive rhythms and chords echo throughout the hall.

A little more.

little bit more.

My greed was endless, and I poured it out.

Towards the end of this music.

‘are you okay.’

Now I already know the ending,

Towards the end of the storm.

‘Now… I am like Beethoven.’

I pressed the keys intensely and violently.

The storm will pass someday.

The performance will end someday.

‘Because I can now accept this as a play.’

Just because the performance is over doesn’t mean it’s meaningless.

Just because we broke up doesn’t mean that meeting is meaningless.

A meeting alone has meaning.

I am who I am now after meeting him.

For that alone, I was very thankful.

The audience may soon forget this performance.

I was engraving each performance in my heart.

Because if that happens, this moment will become forever.

A never-ending performance is created within me.

Lastly, the chords at the end of the coda.

The performance, which was running towards one point, stopped at some point.

Everything I wanted to say to the audience has been completed.

The melody that was flowing from the piano went somewhere far away.

That alone was enough.

This was all I could do.

It was then that cheers erupted from the audience.

or not······.

I may have been thinking about something else for a while, so I only just heard the audience’s cries.

Only then did I stand up.

* * *

“Waaaaaa!!!”

“bravo!!!”

Cheers reminiscent of a concert hall erupted.

A rare occurrence in competitions.

Due to the nature of the competition where the next participant is waiting, it is customary to applaud moderately.

But everyone stood up from their seats.

It shows the highest respect that can be given to a performer.

The audience could not pass on stage 1 as a ‘simple competition’.

“It was an amazing performance! “I’ve never seen a pianist interpret ⌜The Tempest⌟ so dynamically!”

“You said you were out of breath? “I think the level of this competition is great.”

“ha ha ha. There was no time to breathe. I never thought I would play it with all the movements between movements. “Thanks to you, I think it has become a perfect song.”

“Has there ever been a performer like this in Ettlingen’s history? “I heard she’s 13.”

“That’s right. The youngest participant. “I got to see a new history being made!”

“I guess I’ll consider myself lucky.”

Concours officials were working hard to calm the audience.

Among the audience, there was one person with a particularly deep smile.

A young French master.

It was Chloe Laurent.

‘It was a performance that gave me goosebumps. I was surprised. The excellent interpretation and accurate calculations were also surprising. More than anything······’

Chloe Laurent recalled that a little while ago, the boy got up a beat late.

‘I guess you could say I was completely immersed in it. It’s scary. At that age. You’re already trying to think and act like a master…’

Usually, contestants are busy performing their songs.

I didn’t mean that the interpretation was bad or that I was just drawn to the song.

Because I’m trying to play the song I’ve prepared perfectly, I don’t think about other parts.

Actually, that was enough.

Because that’s usually how competitions work.

But the boy wanted to show more than that.

Rather than simply presenting music, we have told stories through music.

‘I thought you were asking what your storm was. ‘I wonder if it’s a comedy or a tragedy.’

Chloe Laurent, who listened to the boy’s music and suddenly remembered her past, was almost certain.

‘It’s not easy. Moreover, looking at the hopeful ending of the coda…’

The boy was giving comfort to people.

The young French master’s eyes continued to shine as he looked at the boy.

The atmosphere at the judges’ table on the first floor was similar.

They were talking among themselves, hidden amidst the cheers of the audience.

“genius. “I don’t think there is any better way to express it.”

“I agree too. “It seems like a world-renowned genius has emerged from the East.”

“I understand why Maestro Hofmann was so confident. You will know when you hear it for yourself… “Those words contained all the meaning.”

“That kid. “You haven’t participated in any other competitions yet, right?”

“There was nothing on my history.”

“Then it would be the child that our Ettlingen found.”

“haha. great. “It’s very nice.”

and.

Jonas Brandt, who was silent among them, quietly closed his eyes.

‘Why is it now? I have never felt the sky so indifferent…’

Anna Becker’s teacher, Jonas Brandt, slowly opened his eyes. Then he looked at the boy on stage who was being cheered by the audience.

The boy looked very calm.

Meanwhile, Anna Becker, who was standing in the corner of the first floor and watching the stage, had her fists clenched.

I tried to ignore the cheers of the audience and returned to the backstage.

‘What. What. What. ‘What the hell…?’

Anna Becker also immediately recognized the boy’s skills.

The boy’s performance was not simply a matter of being good or bad.

That boy…

‘How… you’re already playing similar to the teachers!’

I felt like I could feel a wall.

My heart was pounding.

My hands trembled slightly.

‘He’s a year younger than me. why. how?’

I wish I hadn’t listened to the performance.

Unfortunately, I got selected number 3 in the lottery.

Because of that, I have to go on stage soon.

For reference, participant number 2 was only looking at the music score in the waiting room with earplugs on.

That seemed a little ignorant.

So I laughed when I saw that.

‘Should I have done that?’

It’s not too late now.

Even now, the sheet music…

Anna suddenly realized that she had left the sheet music at home in the morning.

Because it was a sheet music that I had already memorized perfectly.

I didn’t think I needed to look any further.

I felt like cold sweat was flowing down my back.

Anna quickly searched for the score on her smartphone.

I felt like I had to look at the score like this now.

like that.

When I was biting my lip and looking at the sheet music on the small smartphone screen.

“you······.”

Number 1 passed in front of him.

Without saying anything.

Doesn’t even pay attention.

Anna’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of him.

‘From the beginning… there was no reason to care about me…’

Anna returned to the waiting room and caught her breath. She then frantically looked at the sheet music on her smart phone.

The passage of time felt cruel.

“number 3. Anna Becker. Please get ready.”

“······.”

The second performance has already ended.

Anna Becker went up on stage.

There were tears welling up in her eyes.

I must have seen that, but I felt the audience buzzing for a moment.

‘but···. I can’t just sit here.’

Anna immediately sat down at the piano.

There was no time to say hello.

Anna Becker shed a tear.

I gritted my teeth and started playing the piano.

A melody heavier than ever began to echo throughout the hall.

* * *

The next evening.

Two men trudged into Ettlingen Palace.

Holding a huge rolled up roll of paper.

Contest participants held their breath.

Reporters who received permission to enter repeatedly set off their camera flashes at them.

A man hung a string attached to a roll of paper on a bulletin board.

After a while.

The moment a man lets go of his hand.

“and!”

Some of the contest participants let out exclamations of exclamation.

The reactions were varied.

These people burst into tears after seeing the results.

People cheering like crazy.

These people can’t even open their eyes while holding hands with the participant next to them.

Of the 40 contestants who advance to the first round of the Ettlingen Competition, only half can advance to the second round of the finals.

“Whew. I’m glad. “I thought you failed in the first round, Anna.”

“······ I thought so too.”

There was no surprise.

At the top of the list of 20 people was the name of Ettlingen’s youngest participant.

Seojin Han. korea. no. 1.

The names of Anna Becker and Louise Wolff were also written underneath.

The Asian boy glanced at the list and took the first step.

The boy simply answered the reporters’ questions and did not stop walking.