Cellist’s ties to teacher benefit UNLV

By Charlotte Hsu

Tuesday, Feb. 19, 2008 | 2 a.m.

UNLV music professor Andrew Smith recognized Aleks Tengesdal’s talent the day the two met about a decade ago in Tengesdal’s North Dakota hometown.

The boy cellist had an uncommon sensitivity to pitch. He was comfortable with his instrument in a way most children aren’t.

“There are things that you can’t really teach,” Smith says, and Tengesdal “seemed like he was born to play the cello.”

That first meeting between teacher and student came while Smith was visiting Minot, N.D., to play with the local symphony and to work with young musicians, including Tengesdal.

In subsequent summers, Smith returned to Minot to coach students at a weeklong music festival. He carved out time for private lessons with Tengesdal during these trips.

Over the years, the boy came to trust and respect the professor. So, hoping to continue his studies with Smith in college, Tengesdal enrolled at UNLV.

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In Las Vegas, Smith felt a special obligation toward Tengesdal, whose skills probably could have landed him a spot at a major music conservatory.

“He came here to study with me,” Smith says, “and I wanted to make sure I fulfilled whatever promise there may have been.”

Tengesdal, now 22, was happy to leave Minot, which has a population of about 37,000. But adjusting to life in a new city was difficult in the beginning. A person who carefully gathers his thoughts before speaking, he was also, in Smith’s words, “painfully shy.”

Instead of socializing and making new friends during his first months at UNLV, Tengesdal spent his time practicing music or talking on his cell phone to his family.

He had dyed his light hair black.

In Smith’s opinion, Tengesdal was starting fresh. He was “creating a new image for himself.”

The teacher wanted to help Tengesdal become comfortable in his new surroundings.

“I kind of wanted to make sure he was doing OK, that he could talk to me if he had any problems,” Smith says.

During Tengesdal’s first two years in college, Smith would often give him extra training over the weekend.

Kari Moen, Tengesdal’s cello instructor in Minot and his uncle’s fiancee, says she is glad Tengesdal chose to study with Smith, even if that meant forgoing a seat at a prestigious conservatory.

“It was a good decision,” Moen says. “I think he got a lot of individual attention from Andy because (UNLV) wasn’t as large of a school of music.”

“He seems to be more focused on what he wants to do in the future, and I’m sure that’s from discussions with Andy.”

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“I’ve had people tell me what they hear in my music,” Tengesdal says. “Unpredictability. improvisational things.” People describe his style of playing as “free and unrestricted.”

Tengesdal’s music teachers have also seen these qualities in him.

Moen remembers how Tengesdal would disobey her, learning the contents of an entire songbook when she had asked him to work on one song. Other times, he would become so fixated on one piece of music that he would play it repeatedly — for two or three years.

At UNLV, Tengesdal has sometimes ignored Smith’s advice, not practicing what Smith tells him to practice, not working on technique when Smith asks him to.

Still, the rapport they have developed over the years is obvious during Tengesdal’s private lesson on a recent afternoon. Smith, soft-spoken but authoritative, is able to convey his thoughts to Tengesdal with few words.

In some ways, the two communicate through music. The teacher spends little time talking, opting instead to demonstrate how certain sounds should be played. Tengesdal watches closely, then responds with his own playing.

“He has amazing musical insight,” Tengesdal says. “He’s able to communicate to me how the music moves, how it’s written. He makes music easier.”

Having trained under Smith for so long, “I can honestly talk about personal issues with him,” Tengesdal says. “I can tell him if I’m struggling with practicing and he’ll understand.”

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As a college professor, Smith works with most of his students for a brief few years. “They drift in and out, and they move on,” he says.

With Tengesdal, the story is different.

Smith had watched Tengesdal grow up, observing the talented boy’s transformation into a hardworking young man.

“I worry about him a little bit,” says Smith, who has no children of his own. “I want to make sure that he’s going to succeed. I’m going to be interested to find out what direction he goes in. He’s become very interested in baroque music now, and I kind of want to see where that’s going to lead him.”

The two are exploring graduate school possibilities for Tengesdal, who completes his studies at UNLV this year.

Tengesdal is eager to move on to the next phase of his life, but says his friendship with Smith “will last even when I leave. He’ll always be a mentor to me.”