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Swiss ‘House Concerts’ Serve Up Live Music – In People’s Living Rooms

A number of wealthy and well-connected Swiss families are turning their homes into classical music venues. A throwback to the aristocratic salon-scene of yesteryear, Zurich’s private concerts can be elegant affairs, though the organizers insist they are n

Swiss ‘House Concerts’ Serve Up Live Music – In People’s Living Rooms
Tom Hellat

ZURICH – An elegant estate, perched on a hill above the city of Zurich, is surrounded by surveillance cameras and a large steel gate. A housekeeper comes to open the gate. Inside is a hidden paradise: a stately tract with large terraces nestled sweetly in the mountainside. Rhododendrons bloom. A gardener tidies up a row of rose bushes.

Somewhere else on the property, another group is at work --although unlike the busy gardener, they are more easily heard than seen. Tucked away in the estate's basement, the Amar Quartet is practicing for its next concert. Basement is a bit of an understatement. In terms of space and elegance, the room has more in common with a concert hall. Which is why Anna Brunner, the violinist and co-founder of the award-winning ensemble, says that being able to use it on a regular basis is a "godsend." Sometimes the Amar Quartet even plays here before a small crowd of guests.

Such a thing is not unheard of in some of the wealthy mansions around Zurich, which support a vibrant subculture of intimate, private concerts. Living rooms become concert halls. Grandma's clothing rack becomes a cloakroom. In this close setting, careers can even be shaped. "Sometimes our next gig comes from a conversation with an audience member," says Brunner.

So how do house concerts work exactly? First, participants are invited by someone who has both an affinity for music, and a living room big enough to accommodate an audience, a piano and/or a string quartet. The guest list is therefore limited, making private concerts very exclusive and thus more fashionable. But it doesn't mean that the atmosphere is stuffy or elitist: instead of following out-dated rules of etiquette, guests tend to behave rather casually, making the concerts very convivial.

The salon-scene revisited

Take the Albers Family. Their living room, spacious, frescoed, and adorned with lyre-playing cherubs, is regularly filled up with concert-goers. But not just any concert-goers. Barbara Albers wants her circle to become better acquainted with artists, so she often approaches musicians, operating as a discrete promoter. If an up-and-coming young pianist from Russia is playing at the Albers house, chances are there will be an artistic director from a major musical institution among the guests.

In this sense her concerts retain some of the luster of the aristocratic salon gatherings that were popular around Zurich in the late 19th century, when concerts at the Villa Wesendonck would draw prestigious guests the likes of Richard Wagner, Hans von Bulow or Franz Liszt. But unlike those performances, which were reported on by the city's daily newspapers, Barbara Albers' concerts are not see-and-be-seen affairs. She doesn't want Gucci or Prada to take the lead spot. There's room for that at the premiers of big concert halls, but not in her living room. At the Albers', young musicians take center stage, and she is there to promote them.

Like Ms. Albers, Eve and Walter Landis regularly host concerts in their home, which the couple designed specifically for that purpose. Eve, a trained musician, is responsible for the artistic part: selecting musicians and designing concert programs. Walter is the "layman," his wife jokes. Fortunately, he's happy to take on the "simpler" tasks, such as moving the piano or cleaning up after guests – often as many as 80 – have gone. Overall, the couple has hosted more than 150 private performances.

But even though their gatherings attract politicians, artists and other social luminaries, Eve does not see the musical evenings as elitist events. "We have also organized concerts where the whole community was invited," she says. Eve and Walter say the greatest success for them is when a house musician – sometimes even a street performer whom Eve invited to play at their home – benefits from the recitals to gain professional recognition. In some cases performers have gone on to be famous.

Mixing with the guests

Christopher Scheffelt, like his colleagues in the Amar Quartet, has already been invited into many mansions to play music. And although the young concert pianist has played on some pretty big stages, private houses concerts means something special to him, Scheffelt says. He feels "at home" there. That sense of belonging transpires in his music. In these intimate settings, Scheffelt is able to bring a palpable intensity even to the most technically challenging pieces.

The audience comes mostly from the upper stratum of society. It's a world of luxury, one that is still largely stranger to Scheffelt and Brunner. This doesn't seem to bother the musicians, though. The talented pianist feels that as an artist, he is "privileged anyway."

In his day, Franz Liszt felt very differently. In the Parisian salons, he was merely a "source of entertainment for distinguished companies." He did not belong with them, and he mocked them. Liszt wrote about how artists were humiliated, and treated as staff members.

This no longer appears to be the case. Scheffelt says he is also able to chat with guests – a taboo in the concert hall. For Anna Brunner, this closeness to the audience is important. Equally important is the opportunity she is given at house concerts to try new things. Scheffelt has noticed another amusing trend at house concerts: female guests often develop an instinctive interest in his piano, while male guests are usually interested in Anna's violin.

Read the original story in German

Photo - Ethan Woods

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Economy

Air Next: How A Crypto Scam Collapsed On A Single Spelling Mistake

It is today a proven fraud, nailed by the French stock market watchdog: Air Next resorted to a full range of dubious practices to raise money for a blockchain-powered e-commerce app. But the simplest of errors exposed the scam and limited the damage to investors. A cautionary tale for the crypto economy.

Sky is the crypto limit

Laurence Boisseau

PARIS — Air Next promised to use blockchain technology to revolutionize passenger transport. Should we have read something into its name? In fact, the company was talking a lot of hot air from the start. Air Next turned out to be a scam, with a fake website, false identities, fake criminal records, counterfeited bank certificates, aggressive marketing … real crooks. Thirty-five employees recruited over the summer ranked among its victims, not to mention the few investors who put money in the business.

Maud (not her real name) had always dreamed of working in a start-up. In July, she spotted an ad on Linkedin and was interviewed by videoconference — hardly unusual in the era of COVID and teleworking. She was hired very quickly and signed a permanent work contract. She resigned from her old job, happy to get started on a new adventure.


Others like Maud fell for the bait. At least ten senior managers, coming from major airlines, airports, large French and American corporations, a former police officer … all firmly believed in this project. Some quit their jobs to join; some French expats even made their way back to France.

Share capital of one billion 

The story began last February, when Air Next registered with the Paris Commercial Court. The new company stated it was developing an application that would allow the purchase of airline tickets by using cryptocurrency, at unbeatable prices and with an automatic guarantee in case of cancellation or delay, via a "smart contract" system (a computer protocol that facilitates, verifies and oversees the handling of a contract).

The firm declared a share capital of one billion euros, with offices under construction at 50, Avenue des Champs Elysées, and a president, Philippe Vincent ... which was probably a usurped identity.

Last summer, Air Next started recruiting. The company also wanted to raise money to have the assets on hand to allow passenger compensation. It organized a fundraiser using an ICO, or "Initial Coin Offering", via the issuance of digital tokens, transacted in cryptocurrencies through the blockchain.

While nothing obliged him to do so, the company owner went as far as setting up a file with the AMF, France's stock market regulator which oversees this type of transaction. Seeking the market regulator stamp is optional, but when issued, it gives guarantees to those buying tokens.

screenshot of the typo that revealed the Air Next scam

The infamous typo that brought the Air Next scam down

compta online

Raising Initial Coin Offering 

Then, on Sept. 30, the AMF issued an alert, by way of a press release, on the risks of fraud associated with the ICO, as it suspected some documents to be forgeries. A few hours before that, Air Next had just brought forward by several days the date of its tokens pre-sale.

For employees of the new company, it was a brutal wake-up call. They quickly understood that they had been duped, that they'd bet on the proverbial house of cards. On the investor side, the CEO didn't get beyond an initial fundraising of 150,000 euros. He was hoping to raise millions, but despite his failure, he didn't lose confidence. Challenged by one of his employees on Telegram, he admitted that "many documents provided were false", that "an error cost the life of this project."

What was the "error" he was referring to? A typo in the name of the would-be bank backing the startup. A very small one, at the bottom of the page of the false bank certificate, where the name "Edmond de Rothschild" is misspelled "Edemond".

Finding culprits 

Before the AMF's public alert, websites specializing in crypto-assets had already noted certain inconsistencies. The company had declared a share capital of 1 billion euros, which is an enormous amount. Air Next's CEO also boasted about having discovered bitcoin at a time when only a few geeks knew about cryptocurrency.

Employees and investors filed a complaint. Failing to find the general manager, Julien Leclerc — which might also be a fake name — they started looking for other culprits. They believe that if the Paris Commercial Court hadn't registered the company, no one would have been defrauded.

Beyond the handful of victims, this case is a plea for the implementation of more secure procedures, in an increasingly digital world, particularly following the pandemic. The much touted ICO market is itself a victim, and may find it hard to recover.

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