Remembering K. Κouvidis, by Ch. Tsokani

 
  I first met Kostas through my friend Dimos, when I was writing my study on the tale of Medusa and the mythological origins of music. I was struck immediately by his cheerful yet serious air -- the refreshing seriousness of expression that young people have when possessed by a fiery passion for their art, by devotion to something that they are forever approaching yet which constantly beckons them as it takes another step forward. For Kostas this “something” was music. So here we met, in this shared space of music: I from the perspective of study, and Kostas from the perspective of performance. In this space two things, above all, could be heard: on the one hand, the wind instrument -- the “pipes” (to use an ancient analogy) -- whose special quality and significance I was interested in tracing, and on the other, the percussion of Kostas. From the moment I heard him, I identified the rhythm and the beat of drums and cymbals with the pulse of Kostas’s youth. As he leaned to the drums, it seemed that he was abandoning himself to them in a movement that was nothing less than the flow of a life that delighted in improvisation, in racing forward and slowing down, in toiling for something, yet at the same time rejoicing because this toil has no trace of drudgery. Really, he gave me the impression that his every stroke of the drums and cymbals before him had a purpose and a meaning -- he was conscious of every beat. Often young musicians, particularly drummers, have a tendency - almost beyond their control – to try and prove to themselves their skill, their virtuosity. This can end up producing a kind of diversion from sound, a sidetrack that doesn’t manage to get back to the main road. This kind of “going over the top”, for want of a better expression, was never present in Kostas’s playing. And this gave his playing (at least as I perceived it) a distinct ease and warmth and, above all, a feeling that whatever he did -- and how early he had acquired this self-assurance! -- he did because it was precisely what was needed for that moment. He was just the same in conversation: he would pick up the theme of our conversation with total openness and directness, never using it as a pretext for wandering onto other issues.
 I need this kind of stance. I need to see, and hear the sound of, steadily advancing stylistic maturity. Kostas embodied this whole stance. And that is why I shall always remember vividly this young man and his Dionysiac playing and Apollonian gaze. And I feel that the sounds he gave us and the smile that filled his face as we applauded at the end will never fade. 

Chariklea Tsokani