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We’re very excited to have some time today with composer Tryfon Koutsourelis; greetings and salutations Tryfon and thank you for taking time out of a busy schedule to speak with us here at Vents Magazine! Before we meander down the proverbial Q\&A musical pathway, how is 2025 finding you and yours?
I appreciate the kind words — and I’m really glad the album resonates. 2025 has been nothing short of a creative whirlwind. I released C’est beau after a long, immersive journey bringing the project to life, and witnessing the emotional connections it’s sparked has been deeply fulfilling. Between composing, recording, performing, and embracing fatherhood, life is delightfully chaotic. But every moment feels purposeful.
Major kudos on your beautiful new album C’est Beau, which is set to make its eagerly anticipated debut this June 27! Starting at the top, can you talk about what inspired one of the most evocative LPs of 2025?
C’est beau began as a score for a choreography by the French company DK-BEL, created for the Paris 2024 Olympic Games’ cultural programme. The concept was inspired by Baudelaire’s vision of beauty — not as something polished, but as something fragile, chaotic, and deeply human.
Musically, the album is built on small, repetitive motifs that evolve slowly, like memories shifting over time. There are no sweeping climaxes; instead, the music holds a quiet tension. Writing in this restrained, poetic language was a challenge. Every note, every pause, had to carry meaning. The instrumentation centres on felted upright piano, strings, and clarinet. The recordings took place across Berlin, Paris, Athens, and London, with each musician bringing something deeply personal to the process.
After the original performance was broadcast on national French culture TV in August 2024 and received strong feedback, I felt it was time to release the music as a standalone listening experience. The album is ultimately a meditation on impermanence, tenderness, and the strange, fleeting moments where beauty reveals itself.
C’est Beau exists, in part, because of incredible audience interest. To what do you credit the passionate support it has received from listeners around the world?
That response has meant a great deal — and, truthfully, it came as something of a surprise. C’est beau isn’t a loud or attention-seeking album. It’s quiet and slow by nature. But perhaps that’s part of why it resonates. In a fast, noisy world, people seem to be craving stillness and something emotionally honest.
There’s a vulnerability in the music that invites the listener in, rather than tries to impress. Many connected with the live performance, and carried that memory into the recordings. The support has been humbling — it’s reminded me there’s still space for something gentle, for music that listens as much as it speaks.
Can you introduce our readers to some of the wonderful artists who participated in C’est Beau?
Absolutely. Although C’est beau is a deeply personal project, it wouldn’t exist as it does without the expressive contributions of the musicians involved. I had the privilege of working with artists from different musical backgrounds — classical performers, chamber musicians, and improvisers — each of whom approached the material with remarkable sensitivity.
Héloïse Lefebvre, on violin and viola, brought warmth and precision. Lee Caspi’s cello added expressive depth and a grounded energy. Markus Ehrlich’s clarinet was soft and lyrical — you could almost hear the breath behind each note. The final track features vocals by Maria Papageorgiou, a respected and rising voice in Athens and across Europe, whose haunting interpretation gave the piece its emotional closure.
Each of these artists brought far more than technical skill. They brought patience, emotional clarity, and a sense of shared purpose.
Who handled the production and engineering on C’est Beau? The sound is extraordinary.
I’m really glad to hear that — the sound was something I worked very carefully on. The album was produced in my home studio, which is well equipped and gave me the flexibility to work closely with the material. I handled the recording, production, and most of the mixing myself, before finalising the mixes in a large-scale studio in London.
That said, the final track — C’est beau — was especially challenging. After several attempts, I turned to Charis Karantzas, a close friend and a gifted musician and sound engineer based in Berlin. He immediately understood the piece and delivered a mix and master that brought it to life. The rest of the album was mastered by Calyx Mastering in Berlin, who helped preserve the warmth and dynamic range of the recordings.
In your view, what sets C’est Beau apart from other albums in today’s music landscape?
I don’t really think in terms of competition, but if there’s something that sets C’est beau apart, it might be its commitment to understatement. It doesn’t try to impress or overwhelm; it invites listeners into a quiet, reflective space where even small gestures carry emotional weight.
In a time when much music is tailored for immediacy, this album moves in the opposite direction. It embraces silence, subtlety, and emotional ambiguity — not as an aesthetic, but as a way of being present.
With the June 27 release of C’est Beau, can fans expect any live performances?
Yes — I’m currently preparing for a series of performances to support the release. I’m focusing on intimate venues where the music can really breathe and be experienced closely.
I’m also including some new material in the live set — pieces that haven’t yet been released but are planned for the near future. So these concerts will be both a reflection of the album and a glimpse into what’s next.
Who were some of the artistic influences behind C’est Beau?
Inspiration came more from a way of listening than from any single artist. I began to sense that the music we create is only ever a blurred reflection of something much larger — a kind of underlying composition that sits behind everything. That mystery became a guide.
There are composers who accompanied me along that path. Some of them are Beethoven, who showed how structure and emotion can become one; Debussy, who revealed how a single harmony can evoke an entire world; and Philip Glass, whose repetitions feel like meditations in motion. Frederick Delius and Steve Reich also shaped my thinking about texture and time, while John Coltrane and Iannis Xenakis reminded me that rawness and abstraction can still speak something deeply human.
At the end of the day, what do you hope listeners take away from C’est Beau?
More than anything, I hope the album speaks differently to each listener. C’est beau is rooted in simplicity, sensitivity, and emotional contrast — a quiet unfolding that holds space for fragility and beauty without trying to resolve it.
There’s a poetic thread throughout, inspired by Baudelaire’s idea that beauty lives in the strange, the chaotic, and the imperfect. If the album offers someone a moment of reflection, emotional presence, or even just a pause from the noise, then I feel it has fulfilled its purpose.
