Georgy Minasov & Alexduduk
Varpet
Georgy Minasov changed my life
I am Alexduduk
and
and
this is my story
“
Be in search, explore, don't be afraid to make mistakes.
Anyone can be taught to make a copy. A true Master walks the path on his own, based on his mistakes.
You work, and you can always turn to me personally for advice.
Anyone can be taught to make a copy. A true Master walks the path on his own, based on his mistakes.
You work, and you can always turn to me personally for advice.
| Georgy Vartanovych Minasov (Mynasyan) Teacher, inventor of new types of duduk, world-famous musician. Honored Artist of Armenia. Author of the book "School of Playing the Duduk" Famous authentic performer of oriental Mugham |
I will tell this story as briefly as possible, because a hundred pages would not be enough to tell everything.
G. Minasov Changed My Life
I would like to share with you the story of how I met G. Minasov — and how he changed my life simply by believing in me.
The beginning of the story was quite ordinary: I fell in love with the sound of the duduk.
At that time, when the era of social media was only beginning to gain momentum, finding the contact information of a duduk maker while living several thousand kilometers away from Armenia was quite a challenge.
There were a few YouTube videos of duduk players performing, some audio recordings, and essentially… that was it. There were no contacts for the masters who made these instruments.
Then, one day, while going through videos, I came across performances by G. Minasov — recordings from different years. I read about him on the internet and realized that I wanted a duduk made by him, and by him alone.
After months of searching, I eventually found resellers — something that was, and still is, quite common.
I paid a great deal of money for a duduk that was supposedly made by G. Minasov himself. Considering the exchange rate at that time, I paid $500.
When I received it, I struggled with it for a long time. Many things simply did not work. Eventually, I decided that, by any means possible, I had to find a way to study with the Maestro.
And I was lucky.
I found his granddaughter, Zarui, and she quickly arranged a meeting with him on Skype.
I was beyond happy.
We talked with Georgy Vartanovich for a long time. During our conversation, it became clear that I had been deceived. I had been cheated out of my money and sold a duduk that had absolutely nothing to do with the Maestro.
I was deeply disappointed, and I had no money to buy another one.
And that was when G. Minasov first amazed me with his kindness and understanding.
He told me that his duduk cost $150, and that he would send me one and give me a reed as a gift, so that I could experience what a G. Minasov duduk was truly like. If I liked it, I could buy it.
Three weeks later, the treasured duduk was in my hands.
The silver nameplate, the appearance, and most importantly — the sound — completely overwhelmed me.
I immediately turned to my friends, borrowed the money, and sent it to G. Minasov.
That was how our regular Skype meetings began.
We practiced regularly. It was difficult for me because I am not Armenian, and this music was something completely new to me — something difficult to fully understand without living in Armenia.
But things began to work.
Over time, I started experimenting. I wanted to try reeds made by every master I could find.
Of course, at the time I had no idea that this would become another great adventure.
I received what were, frankly, souvenirs rather than reeds — sometimes nothing more than pieces of straw. I often received beautiful reeds that simply did not sound.
Today, I understand where I was buying them from and know the many nuances involved in making and selecting reeds.
But back then, I firmly decided to try making reeds myself.
I told my teacher about my idea and expressed a desire to buy raw cane.
He did not refuse me.
A month later, I received my first batch of cane.
My happiness was impossible to put into words.
Taking into account my experience as a saxophonist and my woodworking experience since childhood, I decided not to ask anyone to show me how to make reeds.
I started on my own.
What, am I all thumbs? No…
G. Minasov watched me closely, genuinely happy for me.
And so began years of experimentation.
I would call Varpet and proudly tell him about my successes and failures. He would patiently point out what I needed to pay attention to, and then I would go back and search for the answer myself.
Time passed.
I began playing exclusively on my own reeds.
I broke thousands of pieces of cane.
And countless times I complained to Varpet that I did not understand something and asked him to explain it to me.
I would like to share with you the story of how I met G. Minasov — and how he changed my life simply by believing in me.
The beginning of the story was quite ordinary: I fell in love with the sound of the duduk.
At that time, when the era of social media was only beginning to gain momentum, finding the contact information of a duduk maker while living several thousand kilometers away from Armenia was quite a challenge.
There were a few YouTube videos of duduk players performing, some audio recordings, and essentially… that was it. There were no contacts for the masters who made these instruments.
Then, one day, while going through videos, I came across performances by G. Minasov — recordings from different years. I read about him on the internet and realized that I wanted a duduk made by him, and by him alone.
After months of searching, I eventually found resellers — something that was, and still is, quite common.
I paid a great deal of money for a duduk that was supposedly made by G. Minasov himself. Considering the exchange rate at that time, I paid $500.
When I received it, I struggled with it for a long time. Many things simply did not work. Eventually, I decided that, by any means possible, I had to find a way to study with the Maestro.
And I was lucky.
I found his granddaughter, Zarui, and she quickly arranged a meeting with him on Skype.
I was beyond happy.
We talked with Georgy Vartanovich for a long time. During our conversation, it became clear that I had been deceived. I had been cheated out of my money and sold a duduk that had absolutely nothing to do with the Maestro.
I was deeply disappointed, and I had no money to buy another one.
And that was when G. Minasov first amazed me with his kindness and understanding.
He told me that his duduk cost $150, and that he would send me one and give me a reed as a gift, so that I could experience what a G. Minasov duduk was truly like. If I liked it, I could buy it.
Three weeks later, the treasured duduk was in my hands.
The silver nameplate, the appearance, and most importantly — the sound — completely overwhelmed me.
I immediately turned to my friends, borrowed the money, and sent it to G. Minasov.
That was how our regular Skype meetings began.
We practiced regularly. It was difficult for me because I am not Armenian, and this music was something completely new to me — something difficult to fully understand without living in Armenia.
But things began to work.
Over time, I started experimenting. I wanted to try reeds made by every master I could find.
Of course, at the time I had no idea that this would become another great adventure.
I received what were, frankly, souvenirs rather than reeds — sometimes nothing more than pieces of straw. I often received beautiful reeds that simply did not sound.
Today, I understand where I was buying them from and know the many nuances involved in making and selecting reeds.
But back then, I firmly decided to try making reeds myself.
I told my teacher about my idea and expressed a desire to buy raw cane.
He did not refuse me.
A month later, I received my first batch of cane.
My happiness was impossible to put into words.
Taking into account my experience as a saxophonist and my woodworking experience since childhood, I decided not to ask anyone to show me how to make reeds.
I started on my own.
What, am I all thumbs? No…
G. Minasov watched me closely, genuinely happy for me.
And so began years of experimentation.
I would call Varpet and proudly tell him about my successes and failures. He would patiently point out what I needed to pay attention to, and then I would go back and search for the answer myself.
Time passed.
I began playing exclusively on my own reeds.
I broke thousands of pieces of cane.
And countless times I complained to Varpet that I did not understand something and asked him to explain it to me.
I can show you, but you have to gain the experience yourself. A master is not someone who was shown something and then simply copies it. There are plenty of those in the world. A true master is someone who has walked his own path and found his individuality.”
Varpet Georgy Minasov
Over time, I began to understand what he meant.
G. Minasov pointed me in the right direction, but I chose the road and the methods of overcoming it myself.
G. Minasov pointed me in the right direction, but I chose the road and the methods of overcoming it myself.
As time went on, souvenir duduks and poorly tuned instruments began finding their way into my hands. By then, I was already making flutes, so I decided to tune one, then another. There were things I did not understand, and my teacher guided me. Then, one day, I decided that I wanted to make a duduk myself.
My first test was made from ash wood.
Oh, how much there was to learn…
And Varpet was always there to point out my mistakes and repeat the same words about the path of a master.
I bought more than a dozen duduks made by different masters.
It hurt to sacrifice them, but I cut them apart, disassembled them, and studied their ergonomics.
And eventually, I began making duduks that I considered worthy — duduks that I personally wanted to show to G. Minasov.
I bought a ticket to Yerevan and went there.
To describe everything I experienced there would take an entire book.
But the most important thing was that my duduks and reeds pleased my teacher.
I was overwhelmed.
Varpet told me that I was doing well, but that there was still a lot of room for growth.
I had chosen a difficult path.
Oh, how much there was to learn…
And Varpet was always there to point out my mistakes and repeat the same words about the path of a master.
I bought more than a dozen duduks made by different masters.
It hurt to sacrifice them, but I cut them apart, disassembled them, and studied their ergonomics.
And eventually, I began making duduks that I considered worthy — duduks that I personally wanted to show to G. Minasov.
I bought a ticket to Yerevan and went there.
To describe everything I experienced there would take an entire book.
But the most important thing was that my duduks and reeds pleased my teacher.
I was overwhelmed.
Varpet told me that I was doing well, but that there was still a lot of room for growth.
I had chosen a difficult path.
“
You are not Armenian. This is not for you. Don't get involved.
— But Varpet encouraged me. He told me not to listen to those people and to do what I loved.
— Yes, the duduk stole my heart and took me along with it.
During one of my trips, I expressed a desire to buy a traditional Armenian national costume.
G. Minasov told me that he would take me to the best tailor — the man who made costumes for his ensemble.
Since I only had one week, they made me a magnificent vest with traditional ornaments in an incredibly short time.
The joy and gratitude I felt toward everyone who took part in it cannot be expressed in words.
G. Minasov told me that he would take me to the best tailor — the man who made costumes for his ensemble.
Since I only had one week, they made me a magnificent vest with traditional ornaments in an incredibly short time.
The joy and gratitude I felt toward everyone who took part in it cannot be expressed in words.
A special thank-you goes to Zarui for taking me on a journey through the historical places of Armenia.
And then came one of my trips — this was shortly before the 2020 lockdown.
I arrived at G. Minasov's home, and I was welcomed like a beloved grandson. That gastronomic journey with Aunt Zina and the family is something I will never forget.
Varpet told me that I now knew everything I needed to become a full-fledged master of duduk and reed making. I was overjoyed. We spent an entire week together in the workshop, making duduks and reeds. It was an incredible experience. G. Minasov watched me, shared his advice, and even liked some of the techniques I had developed. He expressed a desire to use some of them in his own work. I even helped regulate a two-octave duduk, and my experience as a saxophonist proved useful. We introduced small pads beneath the keys, similar to those used on saxophones, so that the keys would not sink too deeply and the instrument would be easier to play. My happiness was simply overwhelming.
And then came one of my trips — this was shortly before the 2020 lockdown.
I arrived at G. Minasov's home, and I was welcomed like a beloved grandson. That gastronomic journey with Aunt Zina and the family is something I will never forget.
Varpet told me that I now knew everything I needed to become a full-fledged master of duduk and reed making. I was overjoyed. We spent an entire week together in the workshop, making duduks and reeds. It was an incredible experience. G. Minasov watched me, shared his advice, and even liked some of the techniques I had developed. He expressed a desire to use some of them in his own work. I even helped regulate a two-octave duduk, and my experience as a saxophonist proved useful. We introduced small pads beneath the keys, similar to those used on saxophones, so that the keys would not sink too deeply and the instrument would be easier to play. My happiness was simply overwhelming.
This is incredible!
Then, one day, Varpet sat me down beside him and said:
“I will show you something you have never seen.”
Georgy Minasov
He searched through a box of duduks and pulled out a miracle.
A unique duduk — the very first two-octave duduk, with its nameplates, on which the Maestro had made his first radio recordings.
I was deeply impressed.
I captured this wonderful creation as a memory — something like a museum exhibit.
A unique duduk — the very first two-octave duduk, with its nameplates, on which the Maestro had made his first radio recordings.
I was deeply impressed.
I captured this wonderful creation as a memory — something like a museum exhibit.
My studies
This is a separate story. 🥰🥰🥰
At the same time, we continued working on my playing.
We studied mugham.
Oh… that was not an easy task.
Varpet would say:
Oh… that was not an easy task.
Varpet would say:
“You are doing very well. Your melismas and everything else are good. You simply lack experience and a thorough knowledge of mugham. If you play for eight hours a day, in a year you will not recognize yourself. You will play the way a duduk player is supposed to play. I believe in you.”
Georgy Minasov
Varpet
Honestly, that brought me to tears.
I remember that when we were playing, he would say that he was tired and was going to lie down and rest, while I should stay and continue playing and learning.
So I sat there and played.
I noticed that he had fallen asleep, and I began playing quietly, at half volume, so as not to disturb his sleep. At his age, rest was important.
Then suddenly I heard:
I remember that when we were playing, he would say that he was tired and was going to lie down and rest, while I should stay and continue playing and learning.
So I sat there and played.
I noticed that he had fallen asleep, and I began playing quietly, at half volume, so as not to disturb his sleep. At his age, rest was important.
Then suddenly I heard:
“Alexey, don't take shortcuts. I can hear everything. Play properly!” 😁😁😁😁
So I started playing at full volume.
Some time passed, and I heard that he had fallen asleep again.
I continued playing and playing.
Then suddenly his voice:
Some time passed, and I heard that he had fallen asleep again.
I continued playing and playing.
Then suddenly his voice:
“That phrase is not correct.”
He would sing the phrase for me exactly as it should be played — and then go back to sleep.
It touched me deeply.
Even in his sleep, he could hear me, feel me, and hear how I was playing.
It was an unforgettable experience.
It touched me deeply.
Even in his sleep, he could hear me, feel me, and hear how I was playing.
It was an unforgettable experience.
Interesting experience
But the most interesting moment came when some of his friends visited him.
We sat around the table while they told stories from their youth — stories about everything they had been through in life.
To experience so much and still remain such a kind-hearted person is truly admirable.
There is much to learn from that.
Then someone asked Varpet to play.
I was holding the accompaniment while he played.
We sat around the table while they told stories from their youth — stories about everything they had been through in life.
To experience so much and still remain such a kind-hearted person is truly admirable.
There is much to learn from that.
Then someone asked Varpet to play.
I was holding the accompaniment while he played.
And then came a surprise.
He told me:
He told me:
Play, Lyosha. I will support you.”
Something inside me suddenly clicked.
A switch of responsibility toward my teacher and his friends had been turned on.
I do not even remember what I played.
It was like being in a dream.
But Varpet's kind look supported me and gave me strength.
His approval and permission to play for them meant more to me than any praise in the world.
I will never forget that.
But, like every journey, this one also came to an end.
A switch of responsibility toward my teacher and his friends had been turned on.
I do not even remember what I played.
It was like being in a dream.
But Varpet's kind look supported me and gave me strength.
His approval and permission to play for them meant more to me than any praise in the world.
I will never forget that.
But, like every journey, this one also came to an end.
