A few of us went to dinner with Trevor Wye tonight.
It's a very strange experience to sit at dinner with someone famous in your field, someone you respect greatly and almost idolize. It's very strange to call him "Trevor" and not "Mr. Wye" or "Trevor Wye." It's one thing to have him instruct you, or to listen to his lectures; even when he's being funny or downright crude, it's all at a distance, in a way. It's all part of the lesson. But in a close setting where the flute is far away in a box, it's odd. I can't really put my finger on the experience, but it's very peculiar, in a pleasant way, to sit across the table and have dinner. We shared a dish of sweet potato fries between the two of us, and he stole walnuts out of my salad like we were old pals.
It's hard to reconcile someone who's just a friendly old Englishman with the master teacher on my very first tone book, the man who picked apart my playing mercilessly yesterday and made it better. But he's very much both those people.
Interesting night.
It's hard to reconcile someone who's just a friendly old Englishman with the master teacher on my very first tone book, the man who picked apart my playing mercilessly yesterday and made it better. But he's very much both those people.
Interesting night.