Volume 65, No. 1

Abstract

The classical pianist and orchestra conductor Phillipe Entremont is a living legend, not just in France but also worldwide. He is in fact one of the most recorded artists in history, with hundreds of recordings to his name. Yet, there is more to know about Entremont. Offstage, he is an important teacher and mentor, one who has been inspiring generations of young musicians. His extensive teaching career, which dates back to the mid-70s, is hardly new information, but no one has paused to examine his pedagogy in any detail. This article will show the various ways he is communicating his musical and pianistic knowledge to his students, knowledge that is not only steeped in the French performance tradition, most directly from his teacher Marguerite Long, but also enhanced by his later experiences as a conductor. Thus, this article is situated at the intersection of music history, culture, and pedagogy.

Many of Entremont’s educational ideas and practices will hardly come as a surprise to a few scholars, but the efforts made by his students for this article offer a closer, more granular perspective of this great tradition as well as insights into his artistry. To the many American musicians of today who are less familiar with Entremont and the French style of piano playing, the techniques and interpretations accumulated here may open up new avenues of thought and practice.

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Throughout his 75-year career, Philippe Entremont has performed on the international stage as both a pianist and as a conductor. Born in 1934, he was a piano prodigy who entered the Paris Conservatoire at the age of 12. He quickly rose to fame in the mid-1950s when he achieved an array of successes, all before the age of 25. Over the next few decades, he solidified his reputation as an outstanding pianist with performances and recordings that were often as exceptional as the musical achievements of his youth. Then, in the mid 1970s, he began a second career in conducting, joining a long list of pianists who have turned to the podium. Here too, in the role of orchestra conductor, he made his mark, touring extensively with various orchestras around the world and making even more recordings. From the 1970s onward, he has enjoyed two careers as conductor and pianist concurrently.

His contributions are considerable. By his own estimate, he has given approximately 7,000 performances across six continents, and he has secured his legacy with approximately 250 recordings.^[1] Thierry Vagne, Philippe Entremont: 70 ans de carrière international (Paris: Éditions Aedam Musicae, 2020), 10. The prolific quantity and variety of his output, while impressive, are perhaps beside the point. The true accomplishment is that the quality of his work is consistently excellent. Listen, for example, to any track from his complete solo recordings for CBS Masterworks, which Sony released as a 34-CD set in 2019. ^[2] Philippe Entremont, Philippe Entremont: The Complete Piano Solo Recordings on Columbia Masterworks, 2019, Sony Classical 19075899442, 34 compact discs. Chances are, you will agree with the many critics who have praised Entremont for his refined yet sparkling sound, and for the way he executes the most complex passages with ease and finesse.

Yet there is more to know about Philippe Entremont. Offstage, he is an important teacher and mentor, one who has been inspiring generations of young musicians. His extensive teaching career, which dates back to the mid-1970s, is hardly new information, but no one has paused to examine his pedagogy in detail. This article will identify and discuss some of the key aspects of his piano teaching, which includes specific approaches to technique and interpretation. This information may not only be of interest to students, educators, scholars, and professional musicians, but also lead to a fuller understanding of Entremont’s legacy and his transmission of the centuries-old French piano tradition to 21st-century students.

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I first became aware of Entremont during the 1980s, when I was working on a dissertation on Debussy at the University of Chicago. Entremont’s recordings played a significant role in shaping and expanding my understanding of Debussy and his contemporaries’ music. The more immediate impetus for this article dates to 2019, when I studied piano with Entremont at a Summer Piano Residency in Fontainebleau, France. My week-long residency was a transformative experience that changed me. I have attended decades of great piano recitals and I have been fortunate to study with many wonderful piano teachers. At Fontainebleau, however, I could see and hear up close what great playing could be.

There is one moment that is especially memorable. Usually, my day began with a simple breakfast and conversation with Entremont in the kitchen of the mansion where the residency took place. But one day I overslept and missed the breakfast hour. As I slowly descended the stairs from my second-floor bedroom suite, I could hear perfect tones rolling out and filling the entire mansion. It was Entremont performing on the Steinway grand piano in the main living room. He was playing one of the fast movements of a Bach keyboard suite. Just a simple piece really, but in Entremont’s hands it was performed perfectly. I was struck by both his sound and technique. The sound was firm and clear. All the notes of the scalar passages were evenly matched with unerring precision, gliding smoothly into each other. There was nothing forced or jagged. I now understood more acutely what it means to be a professional pianist of the highest caliber.

My studies with Entremont prompted me to seek more information about his pedagogy. Thierry Vagne’s recent book, Philippe Entremont: 70 ans de carrière international [Philippe Entremont: 70 years of an international career], offers tips on Entremont’s working, listening, and playing habits, especially in the chapters entitled “The Recitalist,” “The Concertos,” and “Teaching.” But performance technique is not the sole focus of Vagne’s book; rather, it covers the many facets of Entremont’s career, his opinions on a wide range of topics (e.g., specific composers, pianos, other pianists, and other conductors), and his personal experiences in the world of music entrepreneurship.

But I wanted more information centering on Entremont’s craft and his thinking behind it. With Entremont’s permission, as well as assistance from his other students, I contacted a few of the many young pianists he has taught and helped over the years: Sayaka Kimura (Japan), Dmytro Sukhovienko (Ukraine), Tal Walker (Israel and Belgium), Gen Tomuro (Japan), Olga Chelova (Ukraine), and Siyue Kong (China). While I had taken just a week of daily lessons with Entremont, these six students studied with him for much longer periods of time. They were in an ideal position to provide more detailed information about his approach to technique, interpretation, and other matters that were revealed to them over time. I view their firsthand accounts of their time studying with Entremont as a primary source of information that offers a rare glimpse into the mind of an exceptional performer. Their respective essays are included in the Appendix; however, for the sake of convenience to the reader, I will provide relevant excerpts within the body of this article. For context, I will begin with a review of Entremont’s development as a pianist and teacher, with special references to his training and the tradition of piano pedagogy in France, his early career accomplishments, and the various teaching posts he has held throughout his life.

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Philippe Entremont was born in Reims, to parents who laid the foundations of his musical expertise. ^[3] Philippe Entremont, Piano ma non troppo (Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 2015), 11; and Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 11-12. His father was a violinist and conductor at the Strasbourg Opera while his mother was a noted pianist who taught at the Reims Conservatoire. She provided his initial lessons in piano, which took place after he spent a year learning solfège, a mixture of theory and ear training that included how to read music. Such an approach, which was common in France at the time, ^[4] See John Ellis, “La Petite Méthode de piano: A Forgotten Connection to The French School,” The American Music Teacher 62:6 (June/July 2013): 19-26. stands in contrast to the more popular kinds of music education methods today, whereby students initially learn by doing. In the United States, for instance, children generally learn how to sing or play an instrument first and their teachers gradually introduce music theory concepts into lessons. ^[5] In the United States the teaching of principles and theories after the practice of music traces back to Lowell Mason (1792-1872). This sequence is consistent with the Orff Schulwerk method, which is still widely used by music educators around the world. See, for instance, Micheal Houlahan and Philip Tacka, Kodály Today: A Cognitive Approach to Elementary Music Education (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 144. Decades later, Entremont would state that his parents had made the right decision:

I started the piano rather late. First, I did a year of music theory when I was seven or eight, and I didn’t touch an instrument. My parents, and especially my mother, insisted that I acquire a solid musical foundation. I became excellent at music theory, even though I hated it at first, but I eventually came to understand why it was interesting! It goes without saying that this thorough study of music theory helped me considerably later in my career. I was already able to sight-read a musical score without being introduced to any type of instrument. ^[6] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 13.

By the age of nine, Entremont was taking piano lessons in Paris with Rose-Aye Lejour (1900-1995), a highly regarded teacher who served as Jean Doyen’s main assistant at the Paris Conservatoire. A few years later, at the early age of twelve, Entremont was admitted to the Paris Conservatoire, where he began lessons with Doyen (1907-1982), who held the position of Professor of Piano. ^[7] Charles Timbrell, French Pianism: A Historical Perspective (Portland, OR: Amadeus Press), 121. One of the longest serving piano professors in the history of the Paris Conservatoire, Doyen is best known for his recordings of Chopin, Ravel, and Schumann. He also made several pioneering recordings, including the first series of Debussy’s Images in March 1943. At the same time, Entremont continued to study with Lejour. ^[8]. The practice of assigning piano students to two simultaneous teachers may seem curious, but it was not unique to the Paris Conservatoire. A similar system had been in use at the Leipzig Conservatory, founded by Felix Mendelssohn more than a century before Entremont’s training in Paris during the 1940s and 1950s. Even the pedagogical division of labor assigned to instrumental teachers in both Paris and Leipzig was similar, with one teacher focusing on the interpretation and expression of works while the other taught technique. See Joshua Navon, “Pedagogies of Performance: The Leipzig Conservatory and the Production of Werktreue,” Journal of Musicology 37:1 (2020): 63-93. As Navon explains, the line between technique and interpretation may have blurred from time to time, but the “two-teacher system” at Leipzig had some value. William Rockstro, an English student who studied with Mendelssohn at the Leipzig Conservatory, provides one plausible rationale for this arrangement: “It left Mendelssohn free to direct the undivided attention of his pupils to the higher branches of Art [i.e., interpretation].” Navon, “Pedagogies of Performance,” 71. Whereas Lejour taught the various elements of piano technique (e.g., hand position, sound quality), Doyen was responsible for matters of interpretation. Of his two piano teachers at the Paris Conservatoire, Entremont clearly preferred Lejour over Doyen:

Ms. Lejour: she was indeed an extraordinary teacher, and taught me everything. Granted, I was technically in Jean Doyen’s class, but I worked exclusively with her. When I knew Doyen was teaching, I would pretend to have the flu. You wouldn’t believe the number of colds I contracted during my studies at the Conservatoire! In all honesty, Jean Doyen and I didn’t get along very well. I think we were both a little bit afraid of each other. ^{[9] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 14. Several of Lejour’s other students echo Entermont’s remarks. Evelyn Crochet, for instance, has stated, “[Lejour] made us aware of our responsibilities to the music and really taught us how to practice ‘from A to Z’ on every single type of problem, musically and technically. . . . Lejour taught how to play the piano in a natural way. She was very conscious of posture, hand position, and total control over each finger. Every gesture had to be correct.” Thérèse Dussaut, like Entremont, also preferred Lejour over Doyen: “Unfortunately, he [Doyen] was not a gifted teacher. He did not know how to transmit what he knew how to do. He sat at the piano, illustrating, and we took what we were able to. Fortunately he had a wonderful assistant, Rose-Aye Lejour.” Timbrell, French Pianism, 121 and 141-42.}

Entremont felt he was a bit of an outsider at the Conservatoire, not only because of his distant relationship with Doyen but also because he did not bond with his much older classmates. Nonetheless, he excelled there. By the time he turned 15, he had won premièrs prix in theory, chamber music, and piano. ^[10] For the Conservatoire’s exit prize in 1948, Entremont performed the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in B-flat, Op. 106 (Hammerklavier) and Ravel’s “Alborada del gracioso.” Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 7. After leaving the Conservatoire, he began to study piano with his last piano instructor, Marguerite Long (1874-1966), one of the most influential French musicians of the twentieth century. She was important not only as a concert pianist, but also as a teacher of some of France’s great pianists. As a long-time teacher at the Conservatoire and later at her own school in Paris, she instilled in her students the French style of playing known as the jeu perlé: rapid, clean, bright, and even passagework, with each note each perfectly formed. The total effect can be compared to a sparkling strand of pearls. (In retrospect, I now realize that Entremont’s performance of Bach that day five years ago in Fontainebleau was a good example of the jeu perlé.) At the same time, Long instilled in her students the importance of observing the composer’s intentions and aesthetics rather than displaying virtuosity. Her fierce commitment to the score stemmed from her personal interactions with composers like Fauré, Debussy, and Ravel. ^[11] See Long’s three memoirs for her insights about Debussy, and Ravel, and Fauré and their music: At the Piano with Debussy (Paris: Julliard, 1960), English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Dent, 1972); At the Piano with Ravel, ed. Pierre Laumonier (Paris: Julliard, 1961); English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Dent, 1973); and At the Piano with Fauré (Paris: Julliard, 1963), English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Kahn & Averill, 1981). Although she may have exaggerated the extent of her various connections with these composers, ^[12] According to Natsuko Jimbo, in all three of Marguerite Long’s memoirs, the facts are overstated and her rapport with each composer is exaggerated. “Being Faithful to the Collaborative Past: Marguerite Long and her ‘Traditions’ of Three French Composers,” Performance Studies Network Third International Conference at the University of Cambridge. Cambridge, UK, 19 July 2014. she transmitted her respect for their music to her students and taught them how to interpret works within the stylistic guidelines of the time period in which the composers lived. Long taught countless pianists who made lasting and successful careers in both performance and education, ^[13] As stated by Timbrell, “during almost any month in the early 1950s as many as 500 young pianists in France could claim to be a ‘student of Marguerite Long.’” Timbrell, French Pianism, 91. including Jean Doyen and Rose-Aye Lejour, but Entremont would be one of her shining stars on the international scene.

Marguerite Long thought highly of Entremont, to the point of being possessive. She must have been beaming when she stated in 1954, “My young student, Philippe Entremont, is a born pianist and musician. I foresee a brilliant career for him. In fact, he has already had numerous successes.” ^[14] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16n7. But when he began to spread his wings to fly independently, she became angry and disappointed. As reported by Entremont, “I got into an argument with Marguerite on two occasions. The day she found out I had recorded Ravel’s Concerto in G major, she was furious: ‘I can’t believe you played my concerto without working on it with me first!’ And when I got married, she deemed my career to be totally ruined.” ^[15] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16. See also Entremont, Piano non ma troppo, 26. Long may have had a proprietary attachment to Ravel’s Concerto in G since he dedicated this work to her. As well, she was the soloist at the première at the Salle Pleyel in Paris on 14 January 14 1932, with the composer conducting the Orchestre Lamoureux. A few days later, Ravel and Long embarked on a tour with the concerto in sixteen different European cities.

For his part, Entremont had a love-hate relationship with Long. Initially, they clashed in the late 1940s, when he was still an undisciplined and rebellious student. He found her to be a very strict and didactic teacher. But over the decades he came to appreciate her clarity and precision, as is evident from the following recollection that dates from 1999:

Her emphasis was on clarity. She didn’t like a muddy sound, and of course she was right. She always wanted very elegant playing. I must say that I got some very good practice techniques from her, things that I still do today—especially very slow practice, deep into the keys with high fingers. I owe how I practice to her—even though my music thinking today is totally different. ^{[16] .}Timbrell, French Pianism, 96.

Apparently, he did not spend much time learning music by French composers while studying with Long:

We didn’t work much on French composers—I won the Marguerite Long competition with Brahms’s Concerto No. 1. Quite impressive for a boy my age and for that time! At the Conservatoire, Brahms was classified as bad music, just like Rachmaninoff. As for Tchaikovsky, his music wasn’t even worth studying, just something you would play in a bar! ^[17] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16.

At first glance, the above quotation about Marguerite Long from Entremont’s biography may come as a surprise. After all, during his professional career he would be closely associated with French piano music, and his teacher is often considered a direct link to some of France’s greatest composers. Why did he not study more French works with Long when he had the opportunity to do so? One possible answer is that he may have absorbed her sense of music history and the influence of Debussy, Ravel, and Fauré during conversations, master classes, and other interactions with her over many years. Certainly, he was aware of her books devoted to these three composers. ^[18] Philippe Entremont, interview with author, August 2019. Another possible answer is that, despite Long’s strong personality and the emphasis she placed on technical exercises during lessons, she may not have imposed specific pieces on her students. Rather, it seems she may have allowed, if not encouraged, students to choose the pieces that would interest them. ^[19] For instance, Nicole Henriot-Schweitzer, one of Long’s students at the Conservatoire, recalled her lessons in this way: “We did a lot of technical work—the whole gamut. I remember that she was not against assigning works that were perhaps too difficult, if a student loved them. For example, I begged for and got the Chopin Concerto in E Minor before I was twelve.” Timbrell, French Pianism, 97. In Entremont’s case, his inclination towards different types and styles of music may have already been evident as a student.

There can be no doubt that Entremont’s outstanding teachers helped to develop his natural talent. Yet another critical component of his education and later success was the Jeunesses musicales de France, an organization founded by René Nicoly of Éditions Durand shortly after the liberation of France during World War II. Nicoly’s aim was to provide aspiring French musicians the opportunity to gain valuable performance experience, hone their craft, and build stamina by having them play around the country and across the world. Entremont was just 15 years old when he began performing with the Jeunesses musicales, which he remembers with gratitude for the many learning opportunities he received: “I have good memories of that time—it taught me physical endurance and expanded my repertoire. We played everywhere, including in the colonies: Algeria, Morocco, Congo, Belgian Congo, Mozambique, and Angola. Back then, there were wonderful musical organizations in Africa, and musicians like Rubenstein and Heifetz also performed there.” ^{[20] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 10.} Entremont also wrote the following tribute:

If there is in the world a precious artistic organization among all others, it is undoubtedly the Jeunesses musicales de France. Admirable initiative which educates the audiences of tomorrow, unmatched proving ground for young artists—we can never say enough how much music and musicians are indebted to this prodigious organization. For my part, the JMF was at the base of my career, giving me the opportunity to play both in France and abroad. ^[21] Olivier Alain, “L’Action des Jeunesses Musicales,” La Revue musicale 245 (1959): 77, quoted in Cecilia Dunoyer, Marguerite Long: A Life in French Music (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1991), 141-42.

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Shortly after winning the premièr prix in piano at the Paris Conservatoire in 1951, Philippe Entremont gave his first public concert in Barcelona, followed by performances in Madrid, Lisbon, and Porto. The tour was organized by Claude Delvincourt, who at that time was president of the Conservatoire. Entremont did a second tour, also organized by Delvincourt, in Berlin, Stuttgart, Ludwigshafen am Rhein, Vienna, and several other cities. Both tours took place when Entremont was fifteen years old. ^[22] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 19.

From here, he went on to achieve an array of successes in rapid order and on the international scene. In 1953, which he now refers to as “L’année décisive pour moi,” ^[23] Entremont, Piano ma non troppo, 27. he participated in a vital music competition, the Marguerite Long Piano Competition in Paris, where he tied for second place with Russian pianist Yevgeny Malinin. ^[24] The first prize in piano was not awarded in 1953. That same year, he gave back-to-back performances in the United States: a solo recital at the National Gallery in Washington, DC, ^[25] For his first performance in the United States, Entremont gave a solo recital that featured works by Bach-Liszt, Beethoven, Chopin, Fauré, Milhaud, Messiaen, and Ravel. Program for the 508^th Concert at the National Gallery of Art, 4 January 1953. Concert Programs Archive, Season 11, 1952-1953, accessed October 12, 2023, at https://www.nga.gov/research/gallery-archives/concert-programs-archive.html/ and in concert at Carnegie Hall in New York. Both events were organized by the Jeunesses musicale de France. After the Washington concert with the National Orchestra under Leon Barzin, Olin Downes of The New York Times wrote that the young Philippe Entremont gave “a whirlwind performance” of a piano concerto by André Jolivet. “It was a performance done with the spirit and fire of youth, plus a technical and musical mastery of an extremely talented musician.” ^[26] Olin Downes, “Entremont, Harth Concert Soloists: French Pianist and American Violinist Perform under the Baton of Leon Barzin,” New York Times, 6 January 1953, 22. The following year, Entremont began what would eventually become a long collaboration with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. He auditioned for Ormandy in 1954, gave his debut performance with the Philadelphia Orchestra under Ormandy in November 1956, and made his first two Columbia recordings with Ormandy in 1958. Also in 1958, Entremont returned to Carnegie Hall to perform Prokofiev’s Concerto No. 3, the start of a longstanding collaboration and friendship with conductor Leonard Bernstein.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Entremont solidified his reputation as one of the most exciting and sought-after classical pianists of his generation. In the United States alone, he gave an average of 60 performances a year either in solo recitals or with leading orchestras, and one year saw up to 150 performances. ^[27] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 29. He became active in what he referred to as the “American culture of entertainment,” which encouraged classical musicians to take part in programs intended for the general public.

Like other classical musicians, I appeared in programs intended for large audiences, such as The Bell Telephone Hour with the NBC Orchestra as well as the famous Ed Sullivan Show, and so on. These adventures earned me a level of popularity for which I had not been prepared. People would stop me in the street, calling out to me in a joyful and familiar way. They still do it. By contrast, if I had agreed to shoot a commercial in France in the mid-70s, I would have been taken for a jerk. ^[28] Philippe Entremont, with Thierry Vagne, email to author, 20 April 2022.

More and more of his recordings appeared during this period, as well. Between 1959 and 1980, Entremont made 28 record albums, the majority of which were under the Columbia Masterworks label (later renamed CBS Masterworks, which in turn would become Sony); seven of the 28 recordings were with Ormandy. Listening to them today, one is struck by the sheer size and variety of Entremont’s repertoire, which understandably included his favorite composers, such as Chopin, Ravel, Haydn, and Brahms. His recordings from this period also encompass music ranging from J. S. Bach to Daquin, C.P.E. Bach, Hasse, Mozart, Beethoven, Burgmüller, Clementi, Liszt, Tchaïkovsky, Saint-Saëns, Debussy, Satie, Paderewski, Rachmaninoff, Gershwin, Granados, and Albéniz. It was this impressive accumulation and variety of recordings that established Entremont’s reputation in the post-war classical music scene, which was made possible by Columbia Records’ introduction of the long-playing, or LP, format for sound recordings in the late 1940s. ^[29] Richard Osborne, citing Marshall McLuhan, is one writer who draws a connection between the LP format, on the one hand, and an increase in the size and variety of classical music recordings. “The introduction of the LP had an effect on classical music. The longer and superior playing surface expanded the repertoire in breadth as well as length. Marshall McLuhan observed that ‘Where before there had been a narrow selection from period and composers, the tape recorder, combined with l.p., gave a full musical spectrum that made the sixteenth century as available as the nineteenth, and Chinese folk song as accessible as the Hungarian.’” Richard Osborne, Vinyl: A History of the Analogue Record (London: Routledge, 2012), 95. Entremont was on the roster of the Columbia label alongside some of the other leading classical pianists of the time, including Glenn Gould, Leon Fleisher, Rudolf Serkin, and André Watts.

Reviews of Entremont’s recordings and live performances were generally positive, with critics noting his trademark combination of power and finesse and praising his immense technical gifts, especially in the most daunting works of the piano repertoire. In the words of renowned music journalist Harold Schonberg from 1965:

Philippe Entremont, the 30-year-old French pianist, has been giving concerts in this country for almost 15 years, and by now has had a faithful following. Carnegie Hall was well stocked last night when he played there. His program was diverse and intelligently put together, containing a fine selection from Bach through Prokofiev.

It was a bright, brisk, efficient recital that Mr. Entremont gave. This listener had not heard him for some years, and in the interim Mr. Entremont has developed into a thorough professional. His technical level, always high, is now such that apparently no music gives him any difficulty. He scampered through the Debussy Toccata with the same ease with which he went through Mozart’s E flat Sonata (K. 282). Schumann’s “Etudes symphoniques” were deftly outlined, and the extreme difficulties of Prokofiev’s Second Sonata were disposed of without the least hint of strain. . . .

The Prokofiev was an example of whiz-bang playing—of drive and energy, of enthusiasm and ardor, of brilliance and rhythmic ebullience. Of all the pieces on the program, this was closest in style to the percussive sound Mr. Entremont produces. At times, his impulsiveness led him into an unrelieved series of loud dynamics, where fortissimo succeeded fortissimo without relief. But better enthusiasm, than too much care and inhibition, especially in music of this kind. There was some dazzling playing here, and Mr. Entremont left no doubt about his secure place among the younger virtuosos. ^[30] Harold Schonberg, “Music: Entremont’s Nimble Pianistics,” New York Times, 27 March 1965, 15.

It was during the 1960s and 1970s that Entremont began to branch out into two additional fields of music, while continuing to forge an international reputation as a virtuoso pianist. First, he moved into conducting, thereby following in his father’s musical footsteps. He had started conducting professionally in the mid-1960s with a Columbia Masterworks recording of two Mozart concertos, which were performed by the Collegium Musicum de Paris; Entremont served as soloist and conducted from the piano. ^[31] Philippe Entremont (performer and conductor), Philippe Entremont Plays and Conducts Mozart, Collegium Musicum de Paris, Columbia Masterworks MS 7107, 1968, vinyl LP As he recalls, “It is probably thanks to the musicians of the Philadelphia Orchestra that I decided to give conducting a try. My label wanted me to record Mozart, and the musicians in the orchestra suggested that I play and conduct at the same time: ‘He can do it. Besides, he’s at every rehearsal.’” ^{[32] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 47.}

Entremont’s conducting career quickly gained momentum during the following decades with notable appointments and guest engagements. His longest post was with the Chamber Orchestra of Vienna, which commenced in 1976 and continued for 25 years. As music director, he helped to establish this ensemble as one of the world’s best international chamber orchestras. He is now the conductor laureate. From 1980 to 1986 he served as director of the New Orleans Symphony. From 1986 to 1988 he was named principal conductor of the Denver Symphony Orchestra; he continued to serve as its music director from 1988 to 1989. His responsibilities with the DSO overlapped with his appointment as conductor of the Orchestre des Concerts Colonne in Paris (1988-1990).

In 1993 he was named chief conductor of the Chamber Orchestra of the Netherlands and remained with them until 2002. From 1995 to 1999 he served as artistic director of the Israel Chamber Orchestra, and is presently conductor laureate of that orchestra. At different points in his long career, he was offered other conducting posts, some with major orchestras, such as the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. He declined these offers, not just because the piano was too important for him but also because his wife did not want to live outside France. ^[33] Ibid., 64. As of this writing, he has conducted nearly every orchestra in Europe, Asia, and America, with the exception of the Berlin Philharmonic.

Entremont held conducting appointments in multiple orchestras at the same time, a practice that he would continue for decades. For instance, in 2004 he had five different positions: he was principal guest conductor of the Munich Symphony Orchestra while retaining the positions of conductor laureate of the Vienna Chamber Orchestra and the Israel Chamber Orchestra, founding artistic director of the Santo Domingo Music Festival, and principal guest conductor of the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra. While it is not unusual for a music director to hold multiple positions, juggling joint careers as conductor and pianist is something that most musicians struggle to do. Entremont not only managed two full-time careers concurrently, he also started a third career track in the 1970s.

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Many performers branch out into teaching or some other aspect of the music profession when they retire from the stage while others do so when they are well along in their solo careers. Entremont belongs in the latter category, working as both a teacher and administrator while continuing his engagements as a pianist and conductor. His first formal position in music education was as the inaugural president of the Académie Ravel in 1973, which he held until 1980. Located in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, a few kilometers from Maurice Ravel’s birthplace of Ciboure and a 20-minute drive from the Spanish border, the academy was founded in 1967 by then-mayor Pierre Larramendy, whose aim was to perpetuate the significance of the composer and his legacy. Then and now, this academy in the Basque Country operates as a four-week summer music program, held annually, for young French and international virtuosos who are taught by renowned artist-teachers; the program concludes with a festival. When Entremont was president, it was his job to invite some of the greatest French musicians of the day to serve as artist-teachers, such as singers Pierre Bernac and Gérard Souzay, cellist André Navarra, and violinists Christian Ferras and Jacques Thibaud. Entremont and Gaby Casadesus taught piano. In so doing, Entremont helped to build and solidify the Académie Ravel’s place as a serious destination for music education. He left the Académie due to political reasons:

We were hosting Spanish students, and a Spanish flag was being taken down and defiled every night. I kept putting it back up the next day. Then, I got a very unpleasant letter: "We know where your children go to school,” and “If you don’t lay low, don’t be surprised if something happens.” I contacted the police, who set up a guard outside of my house. I’d had enough after a year, and I’d just signed with Vienna, so we all moved there. I had a Steinway in Saint-Jean de Luz that I gave to the academy. ^[34] Ibid., 65.

His next academic post began in 1994, when he was appointed the Director of the Conservatoire Américain in Fontainebleau, France, a position once held by the legendary Nadia Boulanger. His immediate predecessor was pianist and conductor Jean-Pierre Marty. Under Boulanger’s leadership, this summer program became a mecca for American students who would later become outstanding musicians in their own right, including Virgil Thompson, Aaron Copland, Elliot Carter, and Quincy Jones. Entremont occupied the position of director for a period of nearly 20 years, and his duties there included some teaching and the overseeing of the day-to-day operations of the Conservatoire, but his primary obligation was to help the institution regain its stature as an important center of music education that it had once been. At the beginning of his tenure, the school’s reputation was at a low point in its long history. As reported in the 31 January 1994 issue of the local newspaper, La République de Seine-et-Marne, the Conservatoire carried an enormous deficit, the Fontainebleau chateau was no longer interested in hosting the Conservatoire, and there were no sponsors or investors. “Everyone knew the Conservatoire Américain was washed up, a mockery of what it once was.” ^[35] Kendra Preston Leonard, The Conservatoire Américain: A History (Lanham MD: Scarecrow Press), 156-57.

Entremont generally succeeded in getting the institution back on its feet. Shortly after his departure in 2013, his replacement, pianist Philippe Bianconi, reported that “Although [the Conservatoire Américain] is not what it was, it’s doing pretty well now.” ^[36]Diane Peterson, “French Pianist Likes to Connect,”The Press Democrat, 13 February 2014, https://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/news/french-pianist-likes-to-connect/ Entremont’s leadership style, however, drew some criticism. A distant, hands-off leader, he left the running of daily operations to staff. Moreover, he was absent during much of the four-week program. According to Kendra Preston Leonard, his residencies at Fontainebleau sometimes lasted less than a week since he was busy elsewhere with his conducting and performing careers. He would only teach courses in piano and conducting if they could be fitted into his schedule; pianist Gaby Casdesus and composer Betsy Jolas served as the primary faculty. Leonard also states that many students and some staff found Entremont to be “brusque” and “intimidating.” As evidence, she provides pianist Jessie Fillerup’s negative account of a master class led by Entremont at Fontainebleau:

I played for him [Entremont] in one master class and watched him dismantle the performances and egos of my colleagues on numerous occasions. Perhaps . . . being blessed with a prodigious technique, he found it unfathomable that mere mortals like us could struggle with passages that he could dash off in his sleep. It was unfortunate for us that Entremont could never overcome his own self-importance to share with us some of the wisdom of his remarkable French pedigree.” ^[37] Leonard, The Conservatoire Américain, 167.

Not to discount Fillerup’s observations, but there could be other interpretations, or at least qualifications, of Entremont’s teaching in a master class setting. First of all, a master class with an exceptional, world-renowned performer may not always be the most conducive learning environment for some students. In point of fact, it can sometimes be challenging and uncomfortable for even the most talented and seasoned professionals. Consider, for instance, Alfred Brendel’s last master class in 2011 at The Juilliard School of Music, which has been described as “certainly an honor, if a nerve-wracking one, for the five chosen students.” Three of the students were members of the acclaimed Lysander Piano Trio. During this master class, Brendel himself “occasionally offered a compliment, but for the most part he was unsparing.” ^[38] Judith Thurman, “Alfred Brendel’s Last Master Class,” The New Yorker, 3 November 2011, https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/alfred-brendels-last-master-class</a Thus, Entremont’s harsh and exacting teaching style, as described by Fillerup, would not be an anomaly in the realm of master classes led by musicians playing at the highest level.

Secondly, other Entremont students, such as the six pianists whose testimonies are included in this article, would contend that their studies with him, while certainly challenging, were beneficial. As described below, they state that he took a genuine interest in their lives and helped them to improve as musicians in a wide variety of ways. Some students in this group also report that his demonstrations at the piano during lessons were clarifying and inspiring, and that he easily shared with them his personal knowledge of composers and their works. Sayaka Kimura, for instance, records:

When I played a piece by Poulenc, Philippe shared with me his memory of meeting this composer. When I was learning a piece by Ravel, Philippe showed me the composer’s handwritten additions to the score, which he had received from a friend of Ravel. Philippe has had such a direct connection with those composers, which of course inspires me a great deal and also makes me feel much closer to them, their works, and their generation (Sayaka Kimura, see Appendix).

Clearly, there is a range of students’ accounts about Entremont, and any account of this complex individual will likely be at times conflicting and inconclusive.

Entremont’s position as Director of the Conservatoire Américain was the longest of his career, and his years there overlapped substantially with those at the Manhattan School of Music (2001-2013), for which he was assigned to conduct the student orchestra. To this day, he is quite proud of what he accomplished at both institutions. Among other things, he elevated the performance level of both the Fontainebleau Chamber Orchestra (“I still have recordings, they played remarkably well” ^[39]Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 68.) and the MSM Symphony Orchestra (“We did some remarkable concerts, and everything was recorded” ^[40] Ibid., 69.). One year, he even took members of the MSM Symphony Orchestra to Nice, France, where they gave six concerts during the month of August. ^[41]See Manhattan School of Music, “Sharing Our Archival Treasures,” https://www.msmnyc.edu/news/sharing-our-archival-treasures/</a Entremont went on to work at the École Normale de Musique de Paris from 2015 to 2019, when he created the chamber orchestra of this school. During this period he also created a Summer Residence in the town of Fontainebleau, with attendees taking daily private piano lessons with Entremont over the course of a week. Subsequently and until 2023, he taught piano to advanced students at the Schola Cantorum in Paris, founded in 1896 as a rival to the Conservatoire. He is currently teaching piano as Visiting Professor at the Conservatoire Jean Baptiste Lully in Puteaux, located just outside Paris. He recently donated his music library to this institution.

* * * * * * * *

With one exception, all of the six students who contributed essays about their experiences studying with Entremont had some connection to Fontainebleau, either with the Conservatoire Américain or the Summer Residence program. The one exception is Olga Chelova, who met Entremont while studying at the Schola Cantorum and subsequently collaborated with him to record Brahms’s Sixteen Waltzes, op. 39. ^[42] Olga Chelova and Philippe Entremont, Sixteen Waltzes, Op. 39, by Johannes Brahms, on Schumann – Liszt – Brahms, released 2021, Neos NEOS32102, compact disc. Special mention must also be made of Gen Tomuro, whom Entremont regards as his “one real student.” ^[43] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 65. In correspondence with the author, Gen explained the reasoning behind this remark: “Philippe has given many lessons and master classes to countless pianists, but I have had the immense privilege of being the most involved student in his recent years: sort of his sole apprentice, if I may be so bold.” ^[44] Gen Tomuro, email to author, 13 April 2023. Gen studied intensely with Entremont in Paris over a period of approximately eight years.

The students were first asked to respond briefly to a few demographic questions (e.g., “Where and under what circumstances did you study with Philippe?”). They were then asked to respond at length to the following statement: “Please give your detailed insights into Philippe’s approach to technique and interpretation and other matters that were revealed to you over time.” Their individual essays are provided in the Appendix.

While responses vary in terms of content and level of detail, several recurring themes emerged that can be traced back to Entremont’s training at the Paris Conservatoire and later with Marguerite Long. One such theme was Entremont’s concern for extreme precision of sound, which of course is consistent with the jeu perlé. For him, not a single note of a piece should be out of place:

Fingerings and how to use the fingers to touch keys with precision are other great things I learned. Anyone who has listened to his performances knows that he has a truly diverse range of tones. In our lessons we often focused on just one note and played that note over and over again to learn how to obtain a desired sound and how that sound has to be resounded exactly (Sayaka Kimura, see Appendix).

He really, really focuses on sound quality, demanding that we consider each note with precision and care. He cannot bear to hear even one note sounding badly, especially last notes that may require pedaling. . . . During our lessons, I noticed that he never let any uncertainties slide. I would have to repeat a note or passage over and over again until I performed it correctly. When this happened, I would of course play the passage in question slowly so that I could fully comprehend what I needed to do as well as develop “finger memory,” which requires patience, discipline, and time. Taking care of details while practicing patiently at a slower pace is another indication of his concern for quality (Siyue Kong, see Appendix).

The above remarks lead us to another recurring theme in the essays, one that also has its roots in French piano music and the harpsichord tradition before it: the emphasis Entremont places on the fingers and hands rather than on other parts of the body. For him and his teachers as well, pianists should play with curved fingers and hands close to the keyboard, use minimal wrist and arm motion, and avoid any unnecessary body movement. Following are a few of the many comments that pertain to the hand- and finger-based technique utilized by Entremont:

Philippe Entremont is a representative of the French piano tradition, he often taught playing the piano as close as possible to the keyboards and often demanded that the neck and body not be involved in the performance (Olga Chelova, see Appendix).

He was very particular about the position of the hand, which should have an overall curve when placed above the keyboard; and the importance of strong fingers, which is of course needed in all pieces, but especially in the octaves in Schumann and Liszt (Tal Walker, see Appendix).

Be aware of how the second finger is functioning at any given time. I think this is without a doubt the secret to effective piano playing! And, of course, he did not withhold this secret from me. He showed me how the center of gravity in the hand can change with even the tiniest movement. With regard to the second finger, it could serve as the pillar of the hand, as a means of transferring power and gravity to the hand, or as the leader of hand movement when shifting from one position on the keyboard to another position. . . . He [also] dislikes too much movement at the keyboard and advises all pianists to avoid unnecessary movements. This means we need to keep our hands positioned close to the keyboard, but in a natural way of course. The reasoning behind this advice has to do with control. Whether playing at the beginning, middle, or end of a given passage, our hands should never be in the air or far away from the piano (Siyue Kong, see Appendix).

Yet another thread in the student essays that can be tied to Entremont’s cultural roots is his faithful adherence to the score, as exemplified by his teacher, Marguerite Long. This does not mean literal strictness; on the contrary, he contends that pianists may incorporate their own vision into the music as long as they respect the already existing overall framework. Because of his drive to communicate the composer’s original intent, he finds unnecessary virtuosic display to be anathema. To him, virtuosity for its own sake does not bring any clarity to the music; it is a distraction. Gen Tomuro provides detailed remarks on Entremont’s approach to the score while Siyue Kong recounts what happened during one lesson when she made the mistake of overplaying Chopin:

Another thing he [Entremont] always stressed is that if one has a good score, all of the answers of the music have been indicated by the composer. “Follow the score” he would say. . . . The conclusion of a melody should not leave any room for question or doubt. If there is a crescendo towards a climax, do precisely that for the exact duration that is written on the score. So often musicians are not as scrupulous as they should be in terms of following the score. It seems so silly and elementary, but once you do adhere to the score, the music flows more easily and permeates through to the heart. As to how to personalize and internalize a score so that the performance of it is unique to that artist, from what I see Philippe Entremont doing, one should remain within the boundaries of that music, but expand upon the score from within, without molding the structure too much (Gen Tomuro, see Appendix).

From the Heights of Success to Rock Bottom. By way of closing, I shall describe my last lesson with M. Entremont. I had prepared Chopin’s Nocturne op. 62, no. 2, thinking that I would play the last Chopin nocturne for my last lesson. This piece is not especially virtuosic, as compared to Ravel’s La valse, for example. So I was not very nervous. But after I performed the nocturne, he said, “you don’t play this piece well.” I was truly taken aback. He had never said anything like this to me before, even when I made fingering or pedaling mistakes or any other kind of mistake for that matter. He would always try to solve the problem in question. He had never said, “you don’t play this piece well.” In my experience, Philippe Entremont always has something positive to say, and he would make suggestions rather than judgments. As well, he liked to make jokes. This time, obviously, was different. Staring hard at me, he said, “There is only one way to play Chopin: the ‘simple way.’” I seemed to recall a similar remark made by Jan Ekier, but I apparently did not fully understand it. “Your sound is very nice,” Entremont said, “but You. Have. To. Play. Chopin.” He said this slowly and clearly, enunciating every word.

He then stood up and went to the piano to begin the actual lesson. He pointed out some of the places where, in order to interpret or enhance the music, I had added something that was nice, beautiful, or musical—but that was not actually written in the score. Also, in fast passages with many notes, I would play them quite well and fluently, but for Entremont, I was playing them too virtuosically. “Don’t play Chopin like Rachmaninov,” he said with temper.

I suddenly realized why he disliked a certain style affected by some young pianists nowadays, namely those who deliberately set out to become eye-catching, showy performers. In doing so, they run the risk of becoming an obstacle between the audience, on the one hand, and the composer and the original music, on the other. These performers might even be dangerous, in the sense that they are like beautiful elves dancing before humans, confusing and distracting people instead of letting them see the truth of reality (Siyue Kong, see Appendix).

Siyue Kong brings up another important point in the above paragraphs, namely how Entremont values simplicity as an end and aim in itself. This is not only true in connection with Chopin’s music but in works by other composers as well. No matter how challenging or complicated a piece may be, Entremont would play it with ease. “Unlike Lenny, you’ll never see me with a drop of sweat, either at the piano or on the podium. Bernstein was soaked from head to toe, though Karajan and Ormandy were not.” ^[45] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 58.

Not surprisingly, Entremont’s teacher, Marguerite Long, was also known for being able to make difficult music sound easy. ^[46] Dunoyer, Marguerite Long, 87 and 160. Following are quotes from two of his other students who echo Kong’s remarks about how he prizes simplicity as the ultimate elegance in performance:

His interpretations breathe with naturalness and simplicity in the best sense of the word. But this apparent simplicity is impossible to replicate, for behind it lies great work and a monumental journey in the art of piano playing and the service of music (Olga Chelova, see Appendix).

My analysis of Entremont’s teaching is this: one needs to work, live, and experience everything to the fullest so that one can understand, as entirely as possible, the truth in art, which is almost always very simple. “One must have impeccable technique to make a difficult passage sound simple and easy.” This is something I heard Philippe say repeatedly (Gen Tomuro, see Appendix).

In sum, we can extract ample evidence from the essays written by Entremont’s students that suggests he has been transmitting values and concepts associated with the French piano style of the last two centuries, including a finger-based technique, precision and clarity of sound, cultivated ease, moderation of expression, and fidelity to the text. From here, Entremont believes, advanced learners must find their own way. By this, he means that students must ultimately and intentionally become their own teachers and not expect a teacher to dictate what to do. This next step is crucial in the creative process and may have its roots in Entremont’s formative years with Marguerite Long. She, too, believed in the importance of personal expression, and she encouraged pianists to find their own unique way of interpreting the music. ^[47]See Marguerite Long, Le Piano, Paris: Editions Salabert, 1984, xviii. Two of Entremont’s students recall his observations about the importance of making independent musical choices. According to Tal Walker: “One sentence that stayed with me was ‘the best piano teacher is yourself,’ which will remain in my mind forever.” Siyue Kong also recalls Entremont exhorting her to pursue her “own musical voice” in performance:

“I can help you and I can teach you many things, but you need to find your own musical voice.” At last we come to this point, which is essential for becoming a true artist and in the education of artists. Every artist is unique, and we must determine how to differentiate ourselves from other musicians. It is so dangerous to be the same; and it is equally dangerous, if not difficult, for instructors to try to mold their students in the same way. True, students might play the piano quite well if they have a good instructor. With so many practice hours behind them, they will no doubt obtain a certain level of technical proficiency. But it is another thing if we want to go beyond competency and become unique. I appreciated the way Entremont helped me to find my own voice by taking into account my small hands and then providing more effective fingering, determining my body, feet, and leg balance, etc. He said that during every hour of practice you should try to get to know your body better and notice how it connects to and interacts with the piano. All in all, he helped me to be more at one with the piano and the music. He also encouraged me to listen, think, and be more conscious of what I like and disliked, not only as a pianist but also as a person (Siyue Kong, see Appendix).

This brings us to a more distinctive characteristic of Entremont’s musicianship, one that is not traceable to his pedagogical lineage but to his later expertise as a conductor: namely, the way the orchestra affects his thinking at the piano, not only as a performer but as a teacher as well. With respect to performance, he sometimes thinks in terms of instrumental color and voices rather than idiomatically for the piano. He does so as a way of gaining interpretive insights and a wider palette of timbres. “The orchestra has always been a source of joy for me. I came into orchestral conducting on my own—no one pushed me to do it. Today, I even think of an orchestra when I play the piano: my right hand climbing into the treble range evokes a lively flute, while my left hand recalls powerful timpani or a moody bassoon. This way of playing helps me broaden my imagination.” ^[48] Philippe Entremont, with Thierry Vagne, email to author, 20 April 2022. As for teaching, he sometimes conducts students during lessons. Tal Walker, for instance, recalls that “At times he [Entremont] “conducted” my playing—in a sense, his long career as a conductor and working with conductors such as Bernstein and Ormandy among many others was reflected in his piano teaching” (Walker, see Appendix).

Entremont would even demonstrate how to transform the piano so that it could at times sound like an orchestra. In the case of Dmytro Sukhovienko, he learned from Entremont how to build a more colorful palette of sounds within a chord so that it resembled instrumental layering:

I also learned a great deal from his conducting approach to piano texture. He opened up new horizons for me by showing how the piano could sound like an orchestra, especially via a built-up sound palette wherein a chord does not sound like just one sound, but more than a few. This palette allows the main themes in the pieces to stand out even more. We were working on Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky at the time and it was very cool and interesting (Dmytro Sukhovienko, see Appendix).

Entremont is hardly the first musician to think orchestrally as an approach to sound transformation. Alfred Cortot (1877-1962), for instance, was known for teaching his students to do so. According to Magda Tagliaferro (1893-1986), “Cortot often asked for ‘flutes here . . . cellos there . . . horns there.’ He opened up horizons by this sound, for it gave us, all at once, a taste for contrasting touches, textures, and the polyphonic style.” Similarly, Éric Heidiseck (b. 1936), notes: “Well, Cortot taught us to be in the habit of thinking of the piano as a ‘little orchestra.’ Or at times maybe a big one? When you think in those terms, then you are thinking about texture: maybe strong fingers for a ‘horn melody,’ with weaker ones doing a staccato ‘wind accompaniment’ while the left hand provides a firm harmonic ‘cello support.’” ^[49] Tagliaferro’s and Heidsieck’s recollections of their lessons with Cortot are included in Timbrell, French Pianism, 108.

Unlike Cortot and other pianists who think orchestrally, Entremont seems to have no problem borrowing material from an orchestral version of a work and using it in the corresponding piano version. He enjoys listening to and comparing multiple settings of a single work, and if he notices slight differences between versions, he may decide to borrow material from one to another. He does so only if the borrowed material enhances, rather than distracts from or changes, the original interpretation. As is clear from the following excerpt, which refers to the original piano setting and later orchestral version of Ravel’s “Alborada del gracioso,” Entremont’s borrowings are limited to surface-level features (i.e., “some turns and flourishes”). ^[50] “Alborada del gracioso” (“The Morning Song of the Jester”) is the fourth movement of Miroirs, a five-movement suite for solo piano that Ravel composed in 1904-5. He scored the movement for orchestra in 1918 and it received its première in Paris on 17 May 1919 by the Pasdeloup Orchestra, under the direction of Rhené-Baton, at the Cirque Hiver. Altering the original overall framework would simply not be in keeping with his French training or in line with French aesthetics in general:

I did a lot of television broadcasts at one point in my life, on American shows in particular. Pierre Boulez and I had an interesting experience on the BBC—it was a program that showcased the works of Ravel for orchestra alongside the originals for piano, which I played. I learned a lot from hearing the orchestral version. For example, there are substantial differences between the two scores for Alborada del gracioso. I now play the piano version with some turns and flourishes specific to the orchestral score. ^[51] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 40-41.

A comprehensive search for all the differences among Entremont’s many recordings and performances of the piano and orchestral renderings of “Alborada del Gracioso” go well beyond the scope of this present study about his pedagogy and could be a potential area for future research. We can, however, speculate that the “turns and flourishes” he borrowed from the orchestral version occur in the lively and flamboyant outer sections of the work rather than in the contrasting central section, which features a slow solo melody—a rather simple lament that is marked “expressive like a recitative” by the composer—followed by long sustained harmonies.

* * * * * * *

What most clearly emerges from the recollections of Entremont’s students is that he was communicating to them a musical and pianistic knowledge that is not only steeped in the French performance tradition, most directly from Marguerite Long, but also enhanced by his later experiences as a conductor. In a sense, his expertise in each of his piano and conducting careers fed into the other. What also emerges from the student essays is a man of contradictions, one who can be both encouraging and unsparing, generous and exacting, utterly French but with a proclivity for diverse types of music. Even in 2019, when I mentioned to him that one of my colleagues in Texas had questioned my decision to perform non-French works for him at his Summer Residency, he was truly puzzled. He said, “Why would I limit myself to just French music?” Perhaps his overarching quality is his concern for honesty and truth for anything connected to music.

These six students represent a tiny fraction of the total number of students Entremont has taught during his 50-year teaching career at music schools and departments across France and the United States, in master classes around the world, and privately. To those familiar with French piano music, many of Entremont's educational ideas and practices will provide a more granular perspective of this great tradition as well as insights into his artistry. To the many American musicians of today who are less familiar with Entremont and the French style of piano playing, the techniques and interpretations accumulated here may open up new avenues of thought and practice.

References

Chelova, Olga and Philippe Entremont. Sixteen Waltzes, Op. 39, by Johannes Brahms, on Schumann – Liszt Brahms, released 2021, Neos NEOS32102, compact disc.

Downes, Olin. “Entremont, Harth Concert Soloists: French Pianist and American Violinist Perform under the Baton of Leon Barzin.” New York Times, 6 January 1953, 22. https://www.nytimes.com/1953/01/06/archives/entremont-harth-concert-soloists-french-pianist-and-american.html.

Dunoyer, Cecilia. Marguerite Long: A Life in French Music, 1874-1966. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1993.

Ellis, John. “La Petite Méthode de piano: A Forgotten Connection to The French School.” The American Music Teacher 62/6 (June/July 2013): 19-26.

Entremont, Philippe. Philippe Entremont Plays and Conducts Mozart. Collegium Musicum de Paris. Columbia Masterworks MS 7107, 1968, vinyl LP.

_______. Piano Non Ma Troppo. Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 2015.

_______. Philippe Entremont: The Complete Piano Solo Recordings on Columbia Masterworks. Sony Classical 19075899442, 2019, 34 compact discs.

Houlahan, Michael, and PhilipTacka. Kodály Today: A Cognitive Approach to Elementary Music Education. New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.

Jimbo, Natsuko. “Being Faithful to the Collaborative Past: Marguerite Long and her “Traditions” of Three French Composers.” Performance Studies Network Third International Conference at the University of Cambridge.” Cambridge, UK, 19 July 2014.

Leonard, Kendra Preston. The Conservatoire Américain: A History. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2007.

Long, Marguerite. Au piano avec Claude Debussy. Paris: Julliard, 1960. English translation by Olive Senior-Ellis. London: Dent, 1972.

_______. Au piano avec Gabriel Fauré. Paris: Julliard, 1963. English translation by Olive Senior-Ellis. London: Kahn & Averill, 1981.

_______. Le piano. Paris: Editions Salabert, 1984.

Long, Marguerite, with Pierre Laumonier. Au piano avec Maurice Ravel. Paris: Julliard, 1961. English translation by Olive Senior-Ellis. London: Dent, 1973.

Navon, Joshua. “Pedagogies of Performance: The Leipzig Conservatory and the Production of Werktreue.” Journal of Musicology 37/1 (2020): 63-93.

Osborne, Richard. Vinyl: A History of the Analogue Record. London: Routledge, 2012.

Peterson, Diane. “French Pianist Likes to Connect” The Press Democrat, 13 February 2014, https://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/news/french-pianist-likes-to-connect/

Schonberg, Harold. “Music: Entermont’s Nimble Pianistics,” New York Times, 27 March 1965. https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1965/03/27/101535579.html?pageNumber=15

Thurman, Judith, “Alfred Brendel’s Last Master Class,” The New Yorker, 3 November 2011, https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/alfred-brendels-last-master-class

Timbrell, Charles. French Pianism. French Pianism: An Historical Perspective. London: Kahn & Averill; New York: Pro/Am Music Resources, 1992.

Vagne, Thierry. Philippe Entremont: 70 ans de carrière international. Paris: Éditions Aedam Musicae, 2020.

 

^[1] Thierry Vagne, Philippe Entremont: 70 ans de carrière international (Paris: Éditions Aedam Musicae, 2020), 10.

^[2] Philippe Entremont, Philippe Entremont: The Complete Piano Solo Recordings on Columbia Masterworks, 2019, Sony Classical 19075899442, 34 compact discs.

^[3] Philippe Entremont, Piano ma non troppo (Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 2015), 11; and Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 11-12.

^[4] See John Ellis, “La Petite Méthode de piano: A Forgotten Connection to The French School,” The American Music Teacher 62:6 (June/July 2013): 19-26.

^[5] In the United States the teaching of principles and theories after the practice of music traces back to Lowell Mason (1792-1872). This sequence is consistent with the Orff Schulwerk method, which is still widely used by music educators around the world. See, for instance, Micheal Houlahan and Philip Tacka, Kodály Today: A Cognitive Approach to Elementary Music Education (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 144.

^[6] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 13.

^[7] Charles Timbrell, French Pianism: A Historical Perspective (Portland, OR: Amadeus Press), 121. One of the longest serving piano professors in the history of the Paris Conservatoire, Doyen is best known for his recordings of Chopin, Ravel, and Schumann. He also made several pioneering recordings, including the first series of Debussy’s Images in March 1943.

^[8]. The practice of assigning piano students to two simultaneous teachers may seem curious, but it was not unique to the Paris Conservatoire. A similar system had been in use at the Leipzig Conservatory, founded by Felix Mendelssohn more than a century before Entremont’s training in Paris during the 1940s and 1950s. Even the pedagogical division of labor assigned to instrumental teachers in both Paris and Leipzig was similar, with one teacher focusing on the interpretation and expression of works while the other taught technique. See Joshua Navon, “Pedagogies of Performance: The Leipzig Conservatory and the Production of Werktreue,” Journal of Musicology 37:1 (2020): 63-93. As Navon explains, the line between technique and interpretation may have blurred from time to time, but the “two-teacher system” at Leipzig had some value. William Rockstro, an English student who studied with Mendelssohn at the Leipzig Conservatory, provides one plausible rationale for this arrangement: “It left Mendelssohn free to direct the undivided attention of his pupils to the higher branches of Art [i.e., interpretation].” Navon, “Pedagogies of Performance,” 71.

^[9] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 14. Several of Lejour’s other students echo Entermont’s remarks. Evelyn Crochet, for instance, has stated, “[Lejour] made us aware of our responsibilities to the music and really taught us how to practice ‘from A to Z’ on every single type of problem, musically and technically. . . . Lejour taught how to play the piano in a natural way. She was very conscious of posture, hand position, and total control over each finger. Every gesture had to be correct.” Thérèse Dussaut, like Entremont, also preferred Lejour over Doyen: “Unfortunately, he [Doyen] was not a gifted teacher. He did not know how to transmit what he knew how to do. He sat at the piano, illustrating, and we took what we were able to. Fortunately he had a wonderful assistant, Rose-Aye Lejour.” Timbrell, French Pianism, 121 and 141-42.

^[10] For the Conservatoire’s exit prize in 1948, Entremont performed the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in B-flat, Op. 106 (Hammerklavier) and Ravel’s “Alborada del gracioso.” Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 7.

^[11] See Long’s three memoirs for her insights about Debussy, and Ravel, and Fauré and their music: At the Piano with Debussy (Paris: Julliard, 1960), English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Dent, 1972); At the Piano with Ravel, ed. Pierre Laumonier (Paris: Julliard, 1961); English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Dent, 1973); and At the Piano with Fauré (Paris: Julliard, 1963), English trans. by Olive Senior-Ellis (London: Kahn & Averill, 1981).

^[12] According to Natsuko Jimbo, in all three of Marguerite Long’s memoirs, the facts are overstated and her rapport with each composer is exaggerated. “Being Faithful to the Collaborative Past: Marguerite Long and her ‘Traditions’ of Three French Composers,” Performance Studies Network Third International Conference at the University of Cambridge. Cambridge, UK, 19 July 2014.

^[13] As stated by Timbrell, “during almost any month in the early 1950s as many as 500 young pianists in France could claim to be a ‘student of Marguerite Long.’” Timbrell, French Pianism, 91.

^[14] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16n7.

^[15] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16. See also Entremont, Piano non ma troppo, 26. Long may have had a proprietary attachment to Ravel’s Concerto in G since he dedicated this work to her. As well, she was the soloist at the première at the Salle Pleyel in Paris on 14 January 14 1932, with the composer conducting the Orchestre Lamoureux. A few days later, Ravel and Long embarked on a tour with the concerto in sixteen different European cities.

^{[16] .}Timbrell, French Pianism, 96.

^[17] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 16.

^[18] Philippe Entremont, interview with author, August 2019.

^[19] For instance, Nicole Henriot-Schweitzer, one of Long’s students at the Conservatoire, recalled her lessons in this way: “We did a lot of technical work—the whole gamut. I remember that she was not against assigning works that were perhaps too difficult, if a student loved them. For example, I begged for and got the Chopin Concerto in E Minor before I was twelve.” Timbrell, French Pianism, 97.

^[20] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 10.

^[21] Olivier Alain, “L’Action des Jeunesses Musicales,” La Revue musicale 245 (1959): 77, quoted in Cecilia Dunoyer, Marguerite Long: A Life in French Music (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1991), 141-42.

^[22] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 19.

^[23] Entremont, Piano ma non troppo, 27.

^[24] The first prize in piano was not awarded in 1953.

^[25] For his first performance in the United States, Entremont gave a solo recital that featured works by Bach-Liszt, Beethoven, Chopin, Fauré, Milhaud, Messiaen, and Ravel. Program for the 508^th Concert at the National Gallery of Art, 4 January 1953. Concert Programs Archive, Season 11, 1952-1953, accessed October 12, 2023, at https://www.nga.gov/research/gallery-archives/concert-programs-archive.html/

^[26] Olin Downes, “Entremont, Harth Concert Soloists: French Pianist and American Violinist Perform under the Baton of Leon Barzin,” New York Times, 6 January 1953, 22.

^[27] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 29.

^[28] Philippe Entremont, with Thierry Vagne, email to author, 20 April 2022.

^[29] Richard Osborne, citing Marshall McLuhan, is one writer who draws a connection between the LP format, on the one hand, and an increase in the size and variety of classical music recordings. “The introduction of the LP had an effect on classical music. The longer and superior playing surface expanded the repertoire in breadth as well as length. Marshall McLuhan observed that ‘Where before there had been a narrow selection from period and composers, the tape recorder, combined with l.p., gave a full musical spectrum that made the sixteenth century as available as the nineteenth, and Chinese folk song as accessible as the Hungarian.’” Richard Osborne, Vinyl: A History of the Analogue Record (London: Routledge, 2012), 95.

^[30] Harold Schonberg, “Music: Entremont’s Nimble Pianistics,” New York Times, 27 March 1965, 15.

^[31] Philippe Entremont (performer and conductor), Philippe Entremont Plays and Conducts Mozart, Collegium Musicum de Paris, Columbia Masterworks MS 7107, 1968, vinyl LP

^[32] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 47.

^[33] Ibid., 64.

^[34] Ibid., 65.

^[35] Kendra Preston Leonard, The Conservatoire Américain: A History (Lanham MD: Scarecrow Press), 156-57.

^[36]Diane Peterson, “French Pianist Likes to Connect,”The Press Democrat, 13 February 2014, https://www.pressdemocrat.com/article/news/french-pianist-likes-to-connect/

^[37] Leonard, The Conservatoire Américain, 167.

^[38] Judith Thurman, “Alfred Brendel’s Last Master Class,” The New Yorker, 3 November 2011, https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/alfred-brendels-last-master-class

^[39]Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 68.

^[40] Ibid., 69.

^[41]See Manhattan School of Music, “Sharing Our Archival Treasures,” https://www.msmnyc.edu/news/sharing-our-archival-treasures/

^[42] Olga Chelova and Philippe Entremont, Sixteen Waltzes, Op. 39, by Johannes Brahms, on Schumann – Liszt – Brahms, released 2021, Neos NEOS32102, compact disc.

^[43] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 65.

^[44] Gen Tomuro, email to author, 13 April 2023.

^[45] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 58.

^[46] Dunoyer, Marguerite Long, 87 and 160.

^[47]See Marguerite Long, Le Piano, Paris: Editions Salabert, 1984, xviii.

^[48] Philippe Entremont, with Thierry Vagne, email to author, 20 April 2022.

^[49] Tagliaferro’s and Heidsieck’s recollections of their lessons with Cortot are included in Timbrell, French Pianism, 108.

^[50] “Alborada del gracioso” (“The Morning Song of the Jester”) is the fourth movement of Miroirs, a five-movement suite for solo piano that Ravel composed in 1904-5. He scored the movement for orchestra in 1918 and it received its première in Paris on 17 May 1919 by the Pasdeloup Orchestra, under the direction of Rhené-Baton, at the Cirque Hiver.

^[51] Vagne, Philippe Entremont, 40-41.

 

Appendix: Student Essays

Sayaka Kimura

It was at the Académie internationale d’Eté de Nice in the summer of 2013 when I first met Maestro Philippe Entremont. Since then, I have had wonderful opportunities to take lessons with him, privately as well as at Fontainebleau and the Schola Cantorum de Paris for nearly a decade. For all these opportunities, I consider myself really fortunate. Today, every time I play the piano, listen to music, or involve myself with the arts in a wider context, I feel that my way of thinking has been greatly influenced by what I have learned from him. When he hears my interpretations, he always shows great enthusiasm and even respect for my ideas. He understands what I am trying to express through music and helps me by giving technical tips and sharing his knowledge. Over the last ten years, we have worked on many pieces by Haydn, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Franck, and, of course, French composers such as Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, and others. When I played a piece by Poulenc, Philippe shared with me his memory of meeting this composer. When I was learning a piece by Ravel, Philippe showed me the composer’s handwritten additions to the score, which he had received from a friend of Ravel. Philippe has had such a direct connection with those composers, which of course inspires me a great deal and also makes me feel much closer to them, their works, and their generation.

Fingerings and how to use the fingers to touch keys with precision are other great things I learned. Anyone who has listened to his performances knows that he truly has a diverse range of tones. In our lessons we often focused on just one note and played that note over and over again to learn how to obtain a desired sound and how that sound has to be resounded exactly. Often he would play a passage or piece to demonstrate a variety of touches, the many nuances of sound (delicacy, lightness, smoothness, richness), the clarity of specific passages, his exquisite balance of harmony, beautiful legato, and so on. He patiently kept sharing and demonstrating until those techniques sank deeply into my senses. These moments were absolutely unforgettable because listening to him while sitting alongside him helped me greatly to develop my ears and senses. He also placed great importance on adhering to what composers had written, such as dynamics, articulations, tempo, and words.

Among the countless memories I have with him, the most special ones were the ones we spent together in Fontainebleau as well as his lectures in Paris. It might sound like an exaggeration, but my time in Fontainebleau was precious and the most inspired days of my life. During my stay there with him and his assistant Marie Hélène Grosos, I saw with my own eyes that his daily life is naturally filled with music. In addition to his intensive lessons, I watched his old concert videos with him, listened to his “casual” piano playing, and had my meals with them. These memories of Fontainebleau are etched in my soul and are some of my greatest treasures. At his lecture in Paris in January 2022, I performed on stage with him for the first time. I always had the impression that his piano playing was full of affection, with his pure, underlying love for music shining through. On the stage and during the course of our performance, I became even more deeply aware of him and his magnificence as a musician.

I have always believed that great mentors influence their students not only in their profession, but also in their view of life. In my mid-twenties, I moved to Berlin from my hometown in Tokyo. This was the first time I lived by myself abroad alone. While I was experiencing anxieties that most of us have that are often common in this day and age, Philippe provided great emotional support every time I met with him by always encouraging me with great warmth and sincerity. He certainly taught me many things about music, but the time I spent with him meant far more than just music. I will never forget his support and one day in the future, I would like to “pay it forward” to someone younger than me. Meeting him, spending much time with him, and learning from him are some of the happiest moments in my life. I am very grateful to Philippe from the bottom of my heart and look forward to seeing him again.

Tal Walker

I had the pleasure  of studying with Philippe Entremont on several occasions, first at the Académie de musique française pour piano, which was directed by Mr. Jean Philippe Collard in 2016-17. Later, I was invited to Entremont’s residency in Fontainebleau (summers 2018 and 2019) and to work with him privately in Paris (2018-19). Mr. Entremont was always kind, he joked a lot, spoke about politics and, most importantly for my musical inspirations, he shared stories from his musical past. He spoke very highly of his teacher Marguerite Long, and he quoted the conversations he had with his mentor, Arthur Rubinstein. One sentence that stayed with me was “the best piano teacher is yourself,” which will remain in my mind forever. Other inspiring stories about his encounters with Bernstein, Messiaen, Stravinsky and many other famous musicians always enhanced my appreciation of my time working with him. I played for Mr. Entremont a vast repertoire, including Mozart’s Sonata K. 333; Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 109; Liszt’s Dante Sonata; Chopin’s Ballade No. 1, Barcarolle Op. 60, Tarantelle, and a couple of Études; Schumann’s Piano Concerto; Franck’s Prelude, Chorale et Fugue, Fauré’s Ballade, Op. 19; Debussy’s L’isle Joyeuse; Szymanowski’s Sérénade de Don Juan (“Masques”); and Ravel’s Miroirs. Entremont highly recommended Haydn’s sonatas and Mendelssohn’s Variations Sérieuses, but I have not had the chance to study these yet. He was very particular about the position of the hand, which should have an overall curve when placed above the keyboard; and the importance of strong fingers, which is of course needed in all pieces, but especially in the octaves in Schumann and Liszt. As well, brilliant sound and usage of the arm were integral components of his playing. He was fond of singing legatos and intelligible phrasings, a controlled sound quality, precise rhythm, and full awareness of one’s choice of tempo.

His teaching methods varied. He demonstrated a great deal, especially when working on Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, and Ravel. When I followed his advice, such as incorporating arm movement and using his choice of fingerings, I found that I play the pieces with much more ease. At times he “conducted” my playing—in a sense, his long career as a conductor and working with conductors such as Bernstein and Ormandy among many others was reflected in his piano teaching. When working on the Schumann Concerto, for instance, he not only instructed me on the piano part, but he also focused on the dialogue between piano and the orchestra. The pianist should keep in mind in every section of the piece whether the melody is with him or her, or with another instrument such as the oboe, the clarinet, the strings, etc. We worked a great deal on the cadenza of the first movement as well as the dialogue between the piano and the orchestra in the second movement. He had many pianistic tips on how to reach a high speed without heaviness through arm movements and the correct fingerings, especially in the third movement.

We would also listen together to his recordings of various pieces. I particularly remember listening with him to his own recording of Miroirs, both the piano version and the orchestral version of some of the movements. During one lesson, when I was working on Oiseaux Tristes, he played his own recording of this piece. Listening to the recording once, and without an exchange any words, was enough to completely transform my playing with regard to the choice of tempo, the melancholic atmosphere, the long and pulsing silences, patience, quality of sound between the different voices, as well as the careful usage of the pedal. With regard to Ravel, Entremont reminded me that he was a son of a Swiss engineer, and so the almost mechanical consistency in some pieces, such as La vallée des cloches, was very important; as was the need for precision and finger brilliance in Noctuelles. In Alborada we worked on superimposed rhythms in order to accentuate hemiolas and syncopations. He gave me some brilliant fingerings that made the piece more comfortable to play. He was very fond of the middle section and wanted it to be singing and precise with Spanish-sounding ornaments. Debussy’s L’isle joyeuse was also to be played with brilliant sound, with precision, and always with direction and surprising contrasts. He was extremely precise in the five-against-three section and wanted each hand to be completely independent of the other.

It was my honor to work with Maestro Philippe Entremont, and it was a great pleasure to receive his letter of recommendation to the Paderewski Association in Bydgoszcz, which resulted in my performance of the Schumann Concerto with the Toruń Symphony Orchestra, under the guidance of Ms. Katarzyna Popowa-Zydroń and Mr. Rafał Blechacz in 2019.

Dmytro Sukhovienko

My name is Dmytro Sukhovienko and I was born in Ukraine in 1972. I graduated from the Kyiv Conservatoire and continued my studies at the Menuhin Academy in Switzerland. In the summer of 1996, I met Philippe Entremont during the Menuhin Festival in Gstaad. It was entirely by chance. At that time, I was preparing for a competition in Geneva and needed the sheet music of Beethoven’s cadenza for Mozart’s Concerto in D minor. After I noticed that Philippe was performing this same concerto at the festival, I went to the rehearsal to hear which cadenza he was playing. Sure enough, it was the Beethoven cadenza! The only thing left for me to do was to approach the Maestro and ask if it was possible to make a copy of his score. As I started to ask my question, Philippe interrupted politely, asking what I wanted to play for him. I certainly was not expecting this turn of events, but as my program for the first round of the competition was ready, I played a Bach Invention for him. It was an amazing moment. A beautiful piano, a church in Saanen, and a great pianist listening to you. After listening to the Bach, he asked me to play something else, so I played Book 2 of the Variations on a Theme of Paganini by Brahms. Then I realized that asking for a copy of sheet music would not be appropriate, so I asked him if I could have a lesson with him. He invited me to Fontainebleau, an American music school in France. I spent two weeks there in the summer of 1997. I returned there in the summers of 1999, 2000, and 2001. In 2004 I traveled to his home in Paris to rehearse the Chopin Piano Concerto No. 1, which I played under him at the Santo Domingo Festival.

Of course, at the age of 25 I did not need to be taught the basics of piano playing. Consequently, Philippe did not change the basics of my technique, except for some important details that I could not see. I remember many students would prepare a French work or program for him, but I always brought the piece or program that I needed to perform at the time. I realized that Philippe could show the right solutions in any kind of music, from any style and era. It was always on point. I liked what he had to say and always trusted him. I also learned a great deal from his conducting approach to piano texture. He opened up new horizons for me by showing how the piano could sound like an orchestra, especially via a built-up sound palette wherein a chord does not sound like just one sound, but more than a few. This palette allows the main themes in the pieces to stand out even more. We were working on Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky at the time and it was very cool and interesting. Of course, attention was also paid to tempo and rhythm, which later helped me to create a more precise musical form. I also learned a great deal from him as an individual: attitudes towards people, life, and self-discipline. His humor always lifted my spirits and my faith in a beautiful world. He even called me Volodya, an allusion to Horowitz who also studied in Kyiv. I will always remain grateful for Philippe Entremont’s kind heart and will never forget our three performances together at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam in 2002.

Gen Tomuro

My first encounter with Philippe Entremont was in the summer of 2006, when I participated in the summer festival of the Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau. It was under a slightly special circumstance that I was able to attend as it was normally intended for university students. I had just turned seventeen and I was on my last summer holiday before entering my final year at my boarding school, the Walnut Hill School for the Arts in Massachusetts.

On the first day of the month-long program, the ten or fifteen pianists were cordially gathered in the Salle des Colonnes of the Château de Fontainebleau to meet with the director of the conservatoire, Maestro Entremont, who was accompanied by our piano teacher of the week, Philippe Bianconi, who would later succeed Entremont after his departure from Fontainebleau in 2013. Each pianist was asked to perform a piece, everybody with mixed feelings, but all trying to make as an adequate impression as possible and to not be immediately dismissed by the uncompromising and intimidating Philippe Entremont.

It was both my naïveté and my adolescent hubris that  allowed me to enthusiastically go up on stage and perform Waldesrauschen by Franz Liszt. My utter ignorance served to my advantage because I was totally oblivious to whom either Entremont or Bianconi were. If it were not for my fearless performance, it was perhaps my young age and spirited attitude that made Philippe take notice of me.

In the course of the next month, Philippe seemed to take a particular liking to me and treated me differently from the others. For example, when the world-class harmony teacher, Isabelle Duha, had asked Maestro to replace her for a faculty concert performance of the Beethoven Piano Trio No. 3 in C Minor, he declined and instead entrusted me with the responsibility of learning, rehearsing, and performing this piece the following week. I had never worked so hard in my 17 years, but it was such a worthy and honorable experience to be able to perform alongside such outstanding musicians, Beverley Lunt (violin) and her husband Herre-Jan Stegenga (cello), both of whom were visiting professors at the Conservatoire. This performance also represented a crucial opportunity for me to be able to show that I was ready to take on a challenge and execute it.

What was most rewarding during that month was to be able to spend time with Philippe, to be closely by his side to observe and absorb his music, but most of all, to find myself deliriously laughing at and with Philippe because of his innate and ingenious sense of humor at all waking moments.

I will never forget the time I was turning his pages for the Franck Piano Quintet during the final faculty concert on a scorching summer day. A brittle corpse of a poor spider, fairly large in size, one which undoubtedly suffered an unfortunate death atop a foot lamp next to the piano, was transported by the wind like a feather and landed on the piano lid. Unsure of what to do, I froze, but Philippe, mid-performance, looked at the spider, then slowly and theatrically looked over at me with the most comical expression with eyes as big as the ones you see in cartoons, and discreetly but dramatically made a gesture of horror, like something you would see in an old Louis de Funès film. This to me captures the essence of Philippe Entremont’s wit, charm and prodigy as a man and as a unique musician.

Upon my return to Walnut Hill for my senior year, I considered staying in America in order to study at one of the major music schools, notably the New England Conservatory where I was already studying with a pedagogue for whom I have the utmost admiration and respect, Mrs. Wha-Kyung Byun, or to explore options in other states. However, I had a much stronger desire to move to Paris to breathe and live in France.

Luckily, Maestro Entremont was very often in the States for concerts and master classes, so I was able to see him in February 2007 in Florida, where my mother joined me from Tokyo to assist me. It seemed very simple then, expressing to Maestro my sole wish of coming to study with him in Paris and to immerse myself in French culture. But it was also risky in many ways, one obvious fact was that I would not be obtaining any diploma. But again, I was naïve and curious, and thankfully so. I mention the presence of my mother because it is important to note that this visit represented a figurative passing of the baton from my family, to boarding school, and then to Philippe Entremont.

In October 2007 I was able to move to Paris thanks to the immeasurable help of the many supportive adults around me, and I began what was to become the most significant apprenticeship of my life, which was with Maestro Philippe Entremont.

The beginning of my apprenticeship was not auspicious, especially since I was used to the immersive American educational system and the meticulous teachings of my professors back in Boston. I would go several times a week to his home on rue de Castiglione next to the Place Vendôme, either heading straight to work on the piano on whatever program I was working on, or sometimes spending a few minutes doing chores, discussing projects, and just really spending time with Philippe. It was a new but evidently critical learning experience during this initial experimental period, chiefly because Maestro had never been a professor at any institution, and I was only accustomed to following the educational system up until that point.

Ms. Byun had told me before I had moved to Paris that she supported my decision. In fact, she preferred that I go to Paris to study with Philippe Entremont rather than stay in Boston and forever wonder what it would have been like in Paris. She said that if things did not work out as I had wished, then I would always be welcomed back to her studio at NEC. On so many occasions, despite lessons with Philippe and the numerous concert opportunities he was giving me, I felt a lack of direction from within. Absolutely nobody but myself was to blame for this ignorance which undeniably came from my inexperience. Furthermore, because Philippe Entremont was born with unprecedented artistic sensitivities and pianistic capabilities, he was a natural who could do but could not explain in pedagogic terms the how.

Because Maestro is not especially articulate with words, and because I was much less fluent in French than I am now, all I could do was imitate what he was doing at the piano and interpret and make guesses of what he meant. Many things I understood, but many things remained cloudy. It was only after spending a good two years by his side, seeing him multiple times a week, traveling with him to his performances and at times performing with him, that the imprint he had been trying to make on me had finally started to really sink in and manifest itself. This breakthrough was colossal. Most of all, it allowed me to have absolute confidence that being with Philippe was the right choice for me, and I now knew how to access the plethora of musical knowledge I could learn from Philippe Entremont.

In short, my analysis of Entremont’s teaching is this: one needs to work, live, and experience everything to the fullest so that one can understand, as entirely as possible, the truth in art, which is almost always very simple. “One must have impeccable technique to make a difficult passage sound simple and easy.” This is something I heard Philippe say repeatedly. Another thing he always stressed is that if one has a good score, all of the answers of the music have been indicated by the composer. “Follow the score” he would say.

Philippe Entremont's melodic phrasing, while subjective, is just the right amount of simplicity, liberty, spark, and romance, without ever being overly indulgent or melodramatic, and certainly never brutal. I have noticed that in his teachings, the fundamentals about making a musical line is that there should always be a beginning and an end. The conclusion of a melody should not leave any room for question or doubt. If there is a crescendo towards a climax, do precisely that for the exact duration that is written on the score. So often musicians are not as scrupulous as they should be in terms of following the score. It seems so silly and elementary, but once you adhere to the score, the music flows more easily and permeates through to the heart. As to how to personalize and internalize a score so that the performance of it is unique to that artist, from what I see Philippe Entremont doing, one should remain within the boundaries of that music, but expand upon the score from within, without molding the structure too much.

There is always a truth to good art, certainly not only one truth, there may be infinite variables, but there is such a thing as global truth in art. Philippe Entremont’s way of living, being, feeling, and performing all comes down to this truth, which can be heard in his music. It is possibly because he has an innate sense of balance, which is the essence of our universe. For example, if a musical phrase is heavier in the beginning, then there must be a lightness towards the end to counteract it, unless explicitly written otherwise by the composer.

These are just a few examples of the profound artistry and creativity of the musician who is Philippe Entremont; however, from my personal experience, it is because he lives fully that his music comes alive, and vice versa. It is because all music is alive that he can live fully. 

Olga Chelova

I came to Paris from Germany for a short time on a scholarship from the ELES [Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich Scholarship] Foundation in April 2019. At the legendary Schola Cantorum in Paris, I studied composition among other things. By chance I found out that Philippe Entremont was giving lessons at the Schola Cantorum. I could not believe that the great pianist and conductor, whose records I had at home in Odessa when I was a child, was giving lessons here. I humbly asked at the secretariat if I could have a lesson or two. And, to my surprise, I was allowed to have a lesson with him. I was very excited and was struck by his kindness and openness.

As with any great artist who does pedagogy, Philippe Entremont’s approach to each student is individual. He demonstrates a great deal at the second piano, allowing students and audiences alike to imagine experiencing the great Carnegie Hall.

Philippe Entremont is a representative of the French piano tradition, he often taught playing the piano as close as possible to the keyboards and often demanded that the neck and body not be involved in the performance. His interpretations breathe with naturalness and simplicity in the best sense of the word. But this apparent simplicity is impossible to replicate, for behind it lies great work and a monumental journey in the art of piano playing and the service of music.

Philippe Entremont did me the honour of recording Brahms’s Sixteen Waltzes with me on my first CD. This CD was nominated for the Opus Klassik Award 2022 in three categories, including chamber music.

I will never forget the moment he got in a taxi (it was very cold in April) and jumped out of a plane from one concert hall to another in a tight-fitting shirt and jacket when I was freezing in a warm coat. I will always keep that day in my memory, and his kind smile and warm attitude will always remain in my heart.

Siyue Kong

I have been studying with Philippe Entremont for a year.

I remember very well when I met this legendary maestro, which was during the second year of my master’s degree and a very sensitive juncture in my life. Someone once said that many people die at the age of 26, and I think I really experienced this feeling at the time. Aside from professional pianists, by which I mean those pianists who have already built an established career, most of us have had no further training or teachers to rely on after graduation. Some continue by pursuing a doctoral degree, but there are other pianists, such as myself, who want to rely on themselves. We are the young musicians who are looking for opportunities to learn and perform, but we realize that we are getting older day by day, we sense time passing us by, and we are very much aware of our own limitations. As well, there was a hopeless and suffocating atmosphere during the recent Covid epidemic. I did not want to be in a competitive environment where I would be judged by others because I feared that such an experience could be overwhelming, especially when compared to the safer environment of school, where I was completing my studies step by step. Put simply, I sensed I was stagnating.

Acting upon a friend’s suggestion, I found out that Philippe Entremont gave master classes, and my doctoral advisor from Warsaw, who is very open-minded, also encouraged me to give him a try. I completed the registration form and then received a reply from his assistant, Marie Hélène Grosos. However, before the master class was about to start, I hesitated. I thought I was not ready and was filled with worry. I needed to practice, I could not play, I was not sure I was 100% prepared, especially in front of such a legendary pianist. So I wrote to Marie to see if I could audit rather than participate in the master class. But when I arrived, I was encouraged to play for him instead of just listening to the class. I was trembling all over and only managed to play the first two pages of the Saint-Saëns Piano Concerto. While I was playing, I felt I was about to lose the courage to continue, so I took a peek at him. He looked straight at me and raised his right hand, and I realized that he wanted to conduct me. I suddenly relaxed because I knew what he wanted: he didn't want to listen to how good or how bad my playing was. It was the music itself that he was most interested in. I could grasp the tone and emotion he was trying to bring out in the music, so I relaxed. Because of the Chopin competition incident,^[1] Siyue Kong is likely referring to the well-publicized scoring controversy associated with the 17th International Fryderyk Chopin Competition, which took place in 2015. In the final round, most members of the 16-person jury gave pianist Seong-Jin Cho from South Korea scores ranging from 6 to 10 whereas Entremont gave him a 1, the lowest possible score. Cho went on to win the competition. As reported in the 26 October 2015 issue of the Korean newspaper The Dong-A Ilbo, there was some speculation that Entremont’s score reflected his negative attitude towards Michel Béroff, Cho’s teacher from the Paris Conservatoire. “1 juror gives 1/10 to the winner of the Chopin piano competition,” The Dong-A Ilbo, https://www.donga.com/en/article/all/20151026/411672/1. we have all heard about his personality—this story may be false or true, distorted or exaggerated—but I think that courage can create experiences and possibilities. He said that I was very talented and lucky. Maybe this is true, but what I do know for sure is that I understood immediately the meaning and goal of that one gesture, as if I had known him for a long time. This first meeting with M. Entremont inspired me to continue studying with him. Here are some of the things I subsequently learned from him and about him:

1. Find the easiest and most relaxed way to play the piano.
   “Play the piano,” he said, “as if you are going to have breakfast.” To demonstrate, he proceeded to lay his arms on the table. To be honest, I had learned a similar approach in my earlier piano studies, but I didn’t realize that I was not as relaxed as I could be. Once I relaxed more and found my center of gravity, my sound changed immediately, filling the entire room, like water filling a pool. I now just have to remember the sensation of my body when completely relaxed, and the sound will correct itself.
2. Always be aware of the most important aspects of a piece.
   During our lessons, M. Entremont typically would focus on and demonstrate the most important parts of a piece while seated at a second piano right next to mine. Other times, he would point out details of the piece that might have been overlooked. I found this information to be helpful, especially during performances on stage when we might lose both our focus and details because there are so many notes to play!
3. M. Entremont is filled with expression and emotion.
   Personally, I think that the ability to convey expression and emotion through music is an innate skill. This is especially true for M. Entremont. During our lessons, I noticed that when the character of the music changed within a piece, so did the emotion on his face. I could sense both expression and emotion emanating from him, and not from the music or piano. He is so full of expression and emotion that we students feel what he is feeling, and we sense that he is drawing out these qualities from deep inside us. Perhaps for this reason, I never experienced “dead time” during our lessons. Even when M. Entremont and I were not playing the piano, such as when we were just talking or laughing or whatever, the atmosphere of the entire room we occupied was never “dead” because of his powerful personal expression and emotion. 
4. Concentrate on the fingertips.
   I suppose all piano instructors draw attention to fingertip technique since we use our fingertips to play the piano. But M. Entremont also provided an effective analogy: “Your fingers should be snakelike!” He demonstrated how a snake might try to quickly bite the keys and then clamp down on them. This movement was not easy, but I thought his analogy was both creative and intelligent.
5. Be aware of how the second finger is functioning at any given time.
   I think this is without a doubt the secret to effective piano playing! And, of course, he did not withhold this secret from me. He showed me how the center of gravity in the hand can change with even the tiniest movement. With regard to the second finger, it could serve as the pillar of the hand, as a means of transferring power and gravity to the hand, or as the leader of hand movement when shifting from one position on the keyboard to another position.
6. Avoid unnecessary body motion.
   He dislikes too much movement at the keyboard and advises all pianists to avoid unnecessary movements. This means we need to keep our hands positioned close to the keyboard, but in a natural way of course. The reasoning behind this advice has to do with control. Whether playing at the beginning, middle, or end of a given passage, our hands should never be in the air or far away from the piano.
7. Always keep sound quality in mind.
   I think that if expression and emotion are the most important principles to M. Entremont, then sound quality is a close second. He really, really focuses on sound quality, demanding that we consider each note with precision and care. He cannot bear to hear even one note sounding badly, especially last notes that may require pedaling.
8. Use the pedals with care.
   Because sound quality is so important, we need to automatically use the pedals with care. Right from the start of my study with M. Entremont, we focused on the use of the pedal in conjunction with hand technique. That is, we did not focus on the hands first and then the pedal. During our lessons, he urged me to be more aware of pedaling, advice that I think is connected to the French repertoire. The polishing phase of the piece involves even more sensitive pedaling. Whenever I used the pedal incorrectly or was heavy-footed, he would yell, “Don’t make the music into dog food!”
9. Practice slowly with patience.
   For M. Entremont, practicing slowly while learning a piece is not enough. During our lessons, I noticed that he never let any uncertainties slide. I would have to repeat a note or passage over and over again until I performed it correctly. When this happened, I would of course play the passage in question slowly so that I could fully comprehend what I needed to do as well as develop “finger memory,” which requires patience, discipline, and time. Taking care of details while practicing patiently at a slower pace is another indication of his concern for quality.
10. Find Your Own Path
    “I can help you and I can teach you many things, but you need to find your own musical voice.” At last we come to this point, which is essential for becoming a true artist and in the education of artists. Every artist is unique, and we must determine how to differentiate ourselves from other musicians. It is so dangerous to be the same; and it is equally dangerous, if not difficult, for instructors to try to mold their students in the same way. True, students might play the piano quite well if they have a good instructor. With so many practice hours behind them, they will no doubt obtain a certain level of technical proficiency. But it is another thing if we want to go beyond competency and become unique. I appreciated the way Entremont helped me to find my own voice by taking into account my small hands and then providing more effective fingering, determining my body, feet, and leg balance, etc. He said that during every hour of practice you should try to get to know your body better and notice how it connects to and interacts with the piano. All in all, he helped me to be more at one with the piano and the music. He also encouraged me to listen, think, and be more conscious of what I like and disliked, not only as a pianist but also as a person.

From the Heights of Success to Rock Bottom

By way of closing, I shall describe my last lesson with M. Entremont. I had prepared Chopin’s Nocturne op. 62, no. 2, thinking that I would play the last Chopin nocturne for my last lesson. This piece is not especially virtuosic, as compared to Ravel’s La valse, for example. So I was not very nervous. But after I performed the nocturne, he said “you don’t play this piece well.” I was truly taken aback. He had never said anything like this to me before, even when I made fingering or pedaling mistakes or any other kind of mistake for that matter. He would always try to solve the problem in question. He had never said, “you don’t play this piece well.” In my experience, Philippe Entremont always has something positive to say, and he would make suggestions rather than judgments. As well, he liked to make jokes. This time, obviously, was different. Staring hard at me, he said, “There is only one way to play Chopin: the “simple way.” I seemed to recall a similar remark made by Jan Ekier, but I apparently did not fully understand it. “Your sound is very nice,” Entremont said, “but You. Have. To. Play. Chopin.” He said this slowly and clearly, enunciating every word.

He then stood up and went to the piano to begin the actual lesson. He pointed out some of the places where, in order to interpret or enhance the music, I had added something that was nice, beautiful, or musical—but that was not actually written in the score. Also, in fast passages with many notes, I would play them quite well and fluently, but for Entremont, I was playing them too virtuosically. “Don’t play Chopin like Rachmaninov,” he said with temper.

I suddenly realized why he disliked a certain style affected by some young pianists nowadays, namely those who deliberately set out to become eye-catching, showy performers. In doing so, they run the risk of becoming an obstacle between the audience, on the one hand, and the composer and the original music, on the other. These performers might even be dangerous, in the sense that they are like beautiful elves dancing before humans, confusing and distracting people instead of letting them see the truth of reality. There is an old Chinese proverb about how perfume can be dangerous, which to me means that we need to consider if the performer is masking the true beauty of the music. Once pianists decide to adopt a slick, overdressed style, it does not matter how well they play for their performance has already dropped to zero.

How many of us today really have the courage to simply present the music, which is what the 90-year-old Entremont has always done? Socrates once said, “I know that I know nothing.” For me, music is as endless as the world itself, and we will never know if we have embraced the right perspective. But I do know that it is a good thing we have had and continue to have musicians like Philippe Entremont.

^[1] Siyue Kong is likely referring to the well-publicized scoring controversy associated with the 17th International Fryderyk Chopin Competition, which took place in 2015. In the final round, most members of the 16-person jury gave pianist Seong-Jin Cho from South Korea scores ranging from 6 to 10 whereas Entremont gave him a 1, the lowest possible score. Cho went on to win the competition. As reported in the 26 October 2015 issue of the Korean newspaper The Dong-A Ilbo, there was some speculation that Entremont’s score reflected his negative attitude towards Michel Béroff, Cho’s teacher from the Paris Conservatoire. “1 juror gives 1/10 to the winner of the Chopin piano competition,” The Dong-A Ilbo, https://www.donga.com/en/article/all/20151026/411672/1.