An improbable meeting — and yet an obvious one — between a composer who passed away a century ago but remains furiously alive, a pianist inhabited by his work (Nicolas Horvath), an author in love with classical music (Alex Vizorek), and the Salle Gaveau, that timeless jewel where all of this could only happen.

At the heart of the evening stands Erik Satie: a mischievous genius, at once minimalist, ironic, and profoundly modern. Here, disciplines intertwine and echo one another. Notes converse with words, silences turn into punchlines, and the scores invite both smiles and emotion.

At the piano, Nicolas Horvath does more than interpret Satie: he lives with him, understands him, sometimes even challenges him — like an ongoing conversation with an old friend whose sense of humor is as sharp as ever. At his side, Alex Vizorek, inspired narrator and keen connoisseur, lends his voice, wit, and sense of rhythm to this musical journey, punctuating the evening with texts and remarks that illuminate the work while gently stripping it of solemnity.

Between clever words, clever drawings, and beautiful music, the evening becomes a three-voiced encounter: piano, language, and spirit. A rediscovery of Satie, yes — not frozen in the marble of history, but alive, playful, and astonishingly contemporary. A suspended moment, halfway between concert and stage performance, where intelligence never excludes pleasure, and laughter never diminishes emotion.

In short: Satie would have loved it. And he probably would have made fun of the whole thing… which, in itself, is the finest tribute of all.