“XPIB wants all of our global ventures to be successful, and for that, we always engage the finest in partnership. For our Golden Friendship Violin Competition, I believe we have found the perfect director. Let me present the incomparable musician and scholar, Tremon Philippe.”
Tremon Philippe?
Most people in the Asian music community were quite familiar with this man. Once, he had said that it was difficult to judge competitions because one could not tell Asian musicians apart. Another time, he downgraded a Korean violinist, saying his play lacked a “fundamental European disposition.”
Yet here he was, smiling with a Chinese banker.
He bowed slightly and spoke—in pitch-perfect Mandarin.
“Mr. Tso has generously asked me to create a competition that can bring different worlds together. For wherever there are people, there is music. Music, sometimes great music, from the hands and hearts of those who infuse their art with their very souls.
“Yet how does one find such musicians? The same old selection process would only give the same candidates.”
The crowd laughed nervously.
“So, a special committee has curated a group of violinists whom we feel might best bring harmony and prosperity through music. Some names you may know. Many names will surely be new. But each artist completes a part of Mr. Tso’s shining bridge.”
Mr. Tso came back to the podium.
“The Golden Friendship Violin Competition will be February fourteenth to fifteenth of next year. Right on Valentine’s Day! Imagine all the love!”
Tremon nodded. He stared into the camera and finished in English.
“And thanks to Xinhua Phoenix Investment Bank, we can give this love to the best of these new brilliant and deserving musicians—wherever they may hide.”
“You bastard,” Shizuka said as she turned off her screen.
* * *
The next day, Shizuka’s phone beeped.
“Shizuka! Shall I be the first to congratulate you?”
“Shut up. Really, why you would do this?”
Tremon chuckled.
“For the music, of course. And for building bridges.”
“How sweet.”
“Shizuka, I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong. In fact, my time with you has inspired everything I’ve done. You were right; the world is changing—and music is changing, as well. It’s always been that way. It’s a wonder that I’d not realized this sooner.
“And besides, if your precious student doesn’t go to competitions, then why not bring a competition to her? After that little thing in Temple City … how many hits have her videos been getting? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Now imagine what this can do. Would you really keep Katrina from even more success?
“By the way,” he added casually, “I know that you and your student might be too busy to make a proper introduction. So I took the liberty of providing one. It’s an honor, after all. Especially when you represent a community like hers … Good night, Shizuka. Shizuka?”
But Shizuka had hung up.
Tremon smiled. He sipped the rest of his tea, closed his eyes, and thought of his ex-student. Shizuka Satomi, returning a bow in the condition she received it?
So conscientious. So innocent.
Condition is everything, they say. The same went for souls, as well.
Shizuka’s soul? It was as worn as she said it was. But the runaway’s? With everything Shizuka Satomi had done for her, Katrina Nguyen’s soul was virtually as good as new.
* * *
Eventually, news of this competition broke into the English-speaking violin community. Most opinions were negative; the whole concept seemed silly, the selection process, an abomination.
It would have been easy to laugh off, except that the head judge was Tremon Philippe, and there was a priceless Strad at stake.
Message boards raged at Tremon Philippe, thinking he had sold out to Chinese money. The great competitions, the great music halls … they were in Europe for a reason. And, although many Asians had admirable technique, would Asians have the soul or intuition to appreciate a tradition that Tremon himself had so vigorously defended?
Some posts insisted that allowing music from other genres and parts of the world was a slippery slope. One person even said that the movie Idiocracy was coming to music and soon we’d be reduced to fart sounds and trombones.
Still others argued back that these views were exactly what was wrong with the violin community, and applauded the poetic justice of someone so stodgy as Tremon Philippe being forced to stand next to an Asian person and kiss his ass.