Naoaki Fukui: On Becoming President of Musashino Academia Musicae

Thank you. As Professor Oshima knows, ever since I was a student at Yochisha 40 years ago, I have lived every day and continued to play the piano with the constant awareness that I would one day become President. I feel that this moment has finally arrived.

However, I never imagined that my appointment would take place under such unprecedented circumstances. Of course, being human, I can't help but feel that the timing was unfortunate, but I view being forced to navigate such difficult waters as my destiny, and I intend to devote my full strength to the management of the university.

Many classes at a music university are not lecture-based. Online classes are difficult because so many subjects involve "live sound." Following the lifting of the state of emergency, we have now switched individual lessons back to a face-to-face format. Also, depending on their instruments and living environments, music students want to practice at the university. I intend to relax activity restrictions carefully and step-by-step while continuing to monitor the situation in society and on campus.

My great-grandfather had already passed away when I was born, but of course, I was told from the time I was old enough to understand that I was named after him. Also, my grandfather, who was the president of Tokyo University of the Arts at the time, doted on me so much that he took me to baseball games about 15 times a year. He would always introduce me to people he met, saying, "This is my grandson Naoaki. He has the same name as my father, so it feels strange" (laughs).

My great-grandfather was originally the son of a temple in Toyama. In the early Meiji era, when Western music had hardly penetrated Japan, he aspired to be a musician and laid the foundation for music in Japan as a composer and educator. Later, in 1929, he founded the Musashino Music School, and in 1949, it was accredited as Japan's first music university. If my great-grandfather hadn't aspired to be a musician, I might be a temple priest by now (laughs).

The founding spirit is the "Spirit of Harmony" (Wa no Kokoro). Musashino was created through the "harmony" of four parties: the students who wanted Naoaki Fukui to create the school, the faculty and staff who resonated with his educational philosophy, the many supporters who provided goodwill assistance, and the founder himself. As a result of everyone setting aside self-interest and uniting their hearts, a private music school—which was said to be impossible at the time—was born. I believe my great-grandfather, who was able to form such "harmony," or "harmony" in musical terms, possessed a very strong heart and a personality that attracted people.

I have heard that he overcame considerable hardships thereafter, including the great difficulties during the war. I feel that in this era of COVID-19, an era where change is required, it is necessary to reconfirm our origins.

In my inaugural address as President, although I did not use the specific words "Spirit of Harmony," my explanation of it was conscious of Keio University's "independence and self-respect." I preached that cooperation and conformity are different, and that the spirit of harmony should be viewed as two sides of the same coin as "individual independence," and that it is important to have one's own firm thoughts. I learned at Keio that the independence and self-respect advocated by Yukichi Fukuzawa is also a philosophy that exists only when there is harmony—protecting the dignity of others.

Lately, it is often said that universities should value their founding spirit, but it is actually difficult for that to live and breathe within the campus. However, just as the spirit of Yukichi Fukuzawa is still passed down through the generations at Keio University, the "Spirit of Harmony" is firmly rooted at Musashino. That is why I believe I must continue to convey the founder's heart to the faculty, staff, and students with conviction for the sake of the future. And that is something I pride myself on being able to do.

Fortunately, because we had the Iruma Campus, a complete reconstruction was possible, and we were able to build a group of buildings that have a sense of unity despite their diversity. But rebuilding an entire campus was a huge task. Even building a single hall is incredibly difficult.

Among the buildings that were completely rebuilt, only Beethoven Hall (completed in 1960), which is said to be Japan's first authentic concert hall, was preserved and renovated for use. When this hall was first built, there were almost no halls in Japan with authentic acoustic design. Japan's first concert organ was installed there. Because of these two things, this hall is a monument not only for Musashino but for the music world.

When Musashino sought to be reborn, we also had to value tradition. Beethoven Hall is the very symbol of that tradition. Many graduates have various memories there. However, even if we say we are simply preserving it, renovating it into a modern hall that meets current regulations for safety while maintaining the previous atmosphere and acoustic characteristics was not easy economically or in terms of design and construction. We realized it after repeated discussions with the construction company.

The Ekoda Campus has the catchphrase "A city of music that transcends the boundaries of a university campus," and its appeal lies in the fact that it has all the functions one could imagine for a music university. It is fully equipped with three concert halls, three rehearsal halls, and numerous lesson, practice, and ensemble rooms with optimal acoustics, realizing a truly comprehensive performance environment. In addition to its excellent functionality, it has a stylish design that is both modern and dignified, and it has a very good reputation.

During the five years from the launch of the project with a major general contractor in 2012 until completion, I attended every single meeting—about 1,500 hours in total. The time spent walking in the same direction with so many people, sharing the same feelings, is an irreplaceable lifelong treasure.

I thought architecture was wonderful. They are both creations, but music and architecture are completely different. Unlike a performance, it manifests as a physical form. And it must remain for a long time. If you cut even one corner, you'll have regrets. I worked hard without compromising or neglecting the details. Though I don't compromise in music either (laughs).

I have never asked my parents the reason directly, but I speculate there were four reasons. First, simply that when one must practice the piano every day for many years, entrance exams would become a hindrance.

Second, they might have thought that if I aimed to be a musician, my knowledge might tend to become biased, or at least be seen that way, so they wanted me to study within the atmosphere of Keio.

Third is friends. Of course, at a music university, you can make friends to study music with. However, when thinking about my future, they might have thought it better for me to gain friends in various fields. Especially since Yochisha has many children who are expected to be active in various worlds.

Fourth, my mother once told me, "If you really want to do something else, you can quit music." I haven't spoken with my father directly, but they might have given me a Keio education to leave that option open.

Actually, I think this fourth point is the most important. In other words, "I decided my own future." I'm not doing this because I was born into the Fukui family. The feeling that I made the final decision myself remains with me even now. That's why I can work hard no matter how tough things get. I think the reason I can feel that way is because I entered Keio.

In the first half of my first year, my overall academic performance was first among nearly 900 students. So, my homeroom teacher naturally thought of the School of Medicine, but I said, "I'm not considering it." However, at that time, I thought about my career path again. Then, telling myself that someone capable of going to the School of Medicine must become the top at Musashino, I cut off the temptation of other fields and chose the path of a pianist.

Above all, while there are others who can do other jobs, I arbitrarily thought that there might be no one else but me with the mindset to carry on the founding spirit and absolutely protect Musashino. Of course, I also couldn't throw away the piano I had been practicing since I was four years old.

By the way, I had saved the entire set of "Dokaben" to let my sons read it in the future, and that wish has come true; my sons are currently reading it intently. "History repeats itself" (laughs).

Even now, I like sports in general, not just baseball, and the reason for that relates to music. It's what you might call a "world that cannot be erased with an eraser"—how much of your usual strength you can demonstrate in a real performance. Actually, the process of effort is important, but one often faces harsh results. Therefore, I tell students that experiencing the joy of success in a real performance—or rather, the regret of failure—is what makes life richer.

It's difficult to name just one. There are too many, especially from my Yochisha days. Because we didn't change classes for six years under the same homeroom teacher, I became one with my friends and the teacher. It's an experience you can't get anywhere else.

I remember well the final words Professor Oshima gave me. He said, "You have talent." But he also said, "However, you tend to get carried away, so be careful about that" (laughs). He also told me, "Your parents are wonderful people."

The reason I remembered those words from the teacher was that they encapsulated his true intent, the relationships I had built with my friends and the teacher, and various other things from those six years. I was so moved that I ended up crying.

I went to Munich when I was 27. Usually, people go much earlier. Until then, I was born in Ekoda and only knew Keio and Musashino, and I had never lived alone. I believe that being in Germany for two years after becoming an adult was very helpful in acquiring human education and breadth, as well as music.

But the composer has only written the score. Many things are written in the score, but actually, it's difficult even to play "according to the score." Ultimately, you have to read the score deeply. I teach students how to read it that way.

On the other hand, musicians need continuous daily practice. It is truly solitary work. You could say it's a battle against your own weak feelings that say, "Let's stop practicing now." I, too, have been doing it for over 40 years, thinking "just 30 more minutes" every day.

I was planning to hold a large concert with Kemal Gekic (a Croatian-born pianist) in 2021, but we postponed it by a year due to COVID-19.

I was deeply impressed by Mr. Gekic's performance in the 90s, and after deepening our friendship, I was able to hold three concerts in front of large audiences at Tokyo Opera City and other venues. Performing with someone I admired was not just an exciting time on a glamorous stage, but the collaborative work based on an equal relationship leading up to it—the time spent gaining insight into the music and performing it together—was also very fulfilling. My wish for the near future as a pianist is to perform again on a big stage with my close friend once COVID-19 has subsided.

As President, there are nine years left until the 100th anniversary. I want to cultivate musical professionals who possess creative abilities that cannot be replaced by AI, who can face problems with no answers or unknown challenges with a broad perspective. Happily, despite the declining birthrate, the number of applicants increased significantly this year. Along with the efforts of the faculty and staff, I think the effect of the new campus is also significant.

What I often say to students is why we perform. In sports, you can break records more effectively today. But in music, everyone is studying songs from hundreds of years ago with all their might. From the outside, it might not be clear why, but it's because the genius of the composers overflows from their scores.

While there is value in the gems of music that have continued to be loved for hundreds of years and cannot be surpassed even today, learning them is by no means easy. I believe the role of a teacher is to let students experience the sense of happiness and joy when they get even a little closer to and touch the truth of a great work, and it is important to create such an environment. We must use this current situation as nourishment for the music world to find a new way forward and grow.

On the other hand, the style in which performers and audiences connect their hearts through performance by sharing the same space and time is the one thing that will not change. This is because sound received with all five senses leaves an indelible mark on the heart as an emotion for a lifetime. Music always stays close to people's hearts, sometimes giving courage and sometimes sharing sadness. No matter how much people's living environments change, I believe that the innate human nature of being healed by musical art and finding the vitality to live for tomorrow is universal.

And now, I feel that being able to devote everything to Musashino Academia Musicae is also thanks to my education at Keio University. When I read Professor Oshima's recent book, I felt a strong resonance because many things overlapped with what I always tell my students. It was a very happy time to be interviewed by the teacher who has continued to watch my growth until now.