JUNE 13 — The thing I enjoy the most, across all the organisations I’m affiliated with, is meeting young Malaysians. At these interactions I discover what the next generation knows about our nation’s history and what they think of their prospects in its future.
Though most of these meetings happen in the Klang Valley, I’ve also had memorable conversations in Penang, Perak, Malacca, Johor, Sarawak and Negri Sembilan.
Sometimes I finish dialogue sessions with a sense of dismay — the kids did not ask relevant questions, were excessively shy or deferential, or were very set in their ways with no attempt (and no incentive) to think about the world outside their geographical, ethnic, cultural or religious borders.
I depart sad about the future and more determined to support changes in educational policy or curricula to foster critical thinking, competition and empathy.
Sometimes, however, I leave a school or university with a spring in my step, because the students were so incisive and ambitious, yet still humble, and I drive away in the hope that our institutions will one day be filled by their adult versions.
Any event involving music, however, always leaves me optimistic about what young Malaysians can achieve. After I worked on the Negri Sembilan State Anthem Project in 2009, I was surprised to be invited to play at concerts (at UKM and with TKC), to be patron of musical organisations and even to spend a day teaching music during TFM Week.
I’ve lost track of the number of school performances I’ve watched, and some of them are stunning in their execution: after The Wedding Singer at Cempaka Cheras last month, I said they could rival Istana Budaya or KLPAC.
At the very top level, I’ve met Malaysians in the Vienna Boys’ Choir and seen Tengku Ahmad Irfan cast his spell at the piano. Of course, it’s also a joy to see young people play traditional instruments such as the caklempong (small gongs) and serunai (flute) at the Istana too.
Over the past few weeks I’ve had the pleasure of working with the children of the Arioso Sinfonia: their mentor (and “big sister” figure) Angel Lee had asked me to accompany them at one of the monthly Sunday matinees at the Royale Bintang Resort in Seremban.
Many of the children at her school are from single-parent or low-income families: it’s her mission to equip the kids with a skill which will help them derive an income, even if they don’t end up becoming professional musicians — though I imagine several of them will, having already won so many awards.
The Royale Matinee Concerts, an initiative of Angel’s in partnership with the hotel, have already done much to encourage more Seremban musicians to emerge from their shell, but my performance there was a prelude to a bigger event that she had organised: the second EUROASIA Youth Music Festival, of which I was patron.
This week-long festival took place at the Seri Pacific hotel in Kuala Lumpur, attracting 32 young pianists and string players for master classes with four outstanding French virtuosi. I sat in some of the lessons, witnessing how methods and passions were transferred from teacher to pupil. The teachers were routinely amazed at how much progress was made, not just in terms of technique but also emotional interpretation. The jurors, headed by National Symphony Orchestra conductor Mustafa Fuzer Nawi and concert pianist Loo Bang Hean, concurred as they awarded prizes on the last day.
The “Europe and Asia” theme was not just limited to the people, but extended to the repertoire as well. The faculty concert included Ravel’s Piano Trio in A Minor, whose second movement, Pantoum, is based on the Malay poetic form of pantun.
The opening concert included a piece by Debussy, who was famously enamoured by the gamelan (traditional musical ensemble), while the gala concert included two Malay pieces arranged for orchestra. Cultural exchange has mutually enriched societies for centuries, and there was never a mythical “Golden Age” of isolated cultural purity as some might wish to think.
As I sat down to play Datuk Johari Salleh’s “Selamat Pergi Pahlawanku”, the students who I had been rehearsing with whispered “Good luck Tunku”: this was the culmination of my musical interlude. I fumbled a bar of fiendish semiquavers, but this was only to keep the audience alert.
At the closing dinner I felt sadness percolate the room. Neither our French guests nor the children wanted the week to end. Everyone had been immeasurably enriched, and I was lucky to have received some of that enrichment.
If only all Malaysian children across every academic discipline and extra-curricular activity could benefit from such experiences: we could all walk with greater springs in our steps.
*This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
