Sebastian Jacot Artist Interivew

Principal solo Flute in the world’s most prestigious orchestras — from the Gewandhaus in Leipzig to the Berliner Philharmoniker — Sébastian Jacot has established himself as one of the most brilliant flautists of his generation. First prize winner of the ARD, Nielsen, and Kobe competitions, he is active worldwide as a soloist, chamber musician, and teacher. He began his orchestral career at just 18 as Assistant Principal Flute of the Hong Kong Philharmonic, later joining Japan’s Mito Chamber Orchestra and Saito Kinen Festival Orchestra, before returning to Europe with the contemporary ensemble Contrechamps. He has performed under the world’s most renowned conductors. Jacot has held professorships at the University of the Arts in Bremen and the Hanns Eisler Hochschule für Musik in Berlin, and travels the world performing as a recital artist and soloist, and giving masterclasses.

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What do you like best about performing ?

What I love about performing is how it draws musicians and audiences alike into the same present. For a brief moment, all the adjectives that usually separate us—and the worries of life—fall away, and we’re simply sharing time, space, and sound.

My role in that moment is to help each person find a place in themselves that resonates with the composer’s music—whether that place is exciting, invigorating, melancholic, sad, dark, or even violent and angry. There is music to fit every adjective we know, because music is the translation of a composer’s inner world—one that is itself a reaction to, or reflection of, the world we all live in. Just a different time, a different place.

At the end of a concert, we’ve all traveled together on this journey... and there is nothing else like it!

What do you like best about teaching?

The best part about teaching is that beyond a few ground rules, nothing is fixed. Each lesson is guided by the student’s understanding—their way of thinking shapes everything.
A lesson is like a concert in slow motion: you peel back the layers, examine every detail, explain it, and bring it into awareness.

Through teaching, I get the rare chance to understand how others think—what they grasp, what they need, what they fear. And many of those students are also my audience.
It’s the perfect cheat code! In a concert, you hope to reach people. But when you’ve spent time learning how they listen, how they feel, how they process music, your playing becomes more direct, more personal. You’re not guessing anymore—you’re speaking their language.

And this process is infinite—especially when, like me, you have the incredible privilege of teaching all around the world. There is nothing like learning a culture through the lessons you share with its students. It’s priceless.

Who were your music mentors?

Meeting Jacques Zoon certainly had a huge influence on me. I joined his class at fifteen, and he quickly became my idol. Since we didn’t share a common language at the time, I learned through sensations, gestures, air, and articulation. That was our vocabulary.

How about 3 pivotal moments that were essential to creating the artist that you've become?

There are so many moments I can think of—and probably even more I haven’t yet realized were pivotal.
Was it the pat on the back from my first teacher after a good recital? The friends I made at the conservatory? The repertoire my teacher chose for me? The simple sensation of being good at something? Or the teacher who told my mother, “If not him, then who?” That may have been the moment I decided to take the flute seriously.

Winning my first job in Hong Kong at eighteen was a major turning point—thrown into the unknown. I had never lived on my own, cooked for myself, worked full-time. I didn’t even speak

English. Suddenly I was on the other side of the world, being paid to do what I loved. Hong Kong made me realise that orchestra would be a big part of my life (and that I loved food!).
After two years, I returned to Geneva to finish my master’s and took a job delivering food on a motorbike for an Indian restaurant.

Then came another shift: I won the solo flute position in Contrechamps, a contemporary music ensemble, where I stayed from 2010 to 2015. At the time, I wasn’t a big fan of contemporary music —but I realised that was mostly because I didn’t know enough about it. That experience completely transformed how I saw flute technique and the instrument itself. I learned there’s no wrong way to blow into these tubes—just a multitude of right ways.

In 2013, a breakup pushed me to start seriously practicing again. I challenged myself to climb out of the hole I was in and went to the Kobe competition. There, a dear friend stayed up all night singing the C.P.E. Bach D minor concerto with me at a karaoke to help me memorise it. The next day, I won the final with that piece. (Or was it thanks to the delicious ramen I had the night before? :))

Then came Nielsen. Then Geneva. The failure in Geneva was actually one of the most important moments of all. I had tried to practice the way “people say one should practice” and I discovered it didn’t really work for me. But it gave me the push to search deeper, to trust my instinct but this time with awareness and brains. That’s what I brought with me to the ARD, and that’s when I had all the tools to win.

Spending seven years as principal flute with the Gewandhaus Orchestra taught me something else entirely: that long-term investment in a position pays off. It gives you something you simply cannot learn secondhand. You grow into the role—and the role shapes you in return.

And then Berlin Phil. What can I say? To keep it short: of course it’s a pivotal moment—whether you’re entering it or exiting it!

Professionally, Berlin expanded me. I reached states of awareness I didn’t know existed. I discovered new tastes: it was like encountering sushi for the first time: at first, you’re not sure—do you love it or is it just not your thing?—And then suddenly, you crave it. It becomes one of your favourite things.

To me, Berlin was a fearless place where everything felt possible. At the same time, it was a place where the lowest and highest aspects of human behaviour coexisted. It is truly a unique place. But sometimes being so unique means losing your grip on reality. You end up out of context because you no longer know what the context even is. Nothing outside your own circle interests you. Judgement is passed freely, even without understanding.

I believe it’s essential to keep questioning yourself and to take responsibility toward the future of music and of the next generations. But as we see in the world today: often, it’s not meaning that wins, but volume. The one who screams the loudest and harshest tends to dominate. The substance comes second, and in the end no one can explain why. When reasons are not clear, one can only wonder what the truth is.

Berlin sharpened me. It taught me to stay grounded in my values. I’m grateful for what I experienced there—for what it gave me, and for the clarity I found in moving on.

What does your schedule look like for the next 6 months?

End of May: concerts and masterclasses in Slovenia, Rome, Salerno, and Naples.
June 14: Solo Concert performing Chaminade and Borne with the Orchestra Accademia Teatro alla Scala under Anna Skryleva at the Auditorium Fondazione Cariplo in Milan.
June 22: Mozart Flute Quartets with Camerata Pacifica in Torino.

Early July: I will be teaching in Geneva at the Conservatoire de Musique.
August: masterclass in Sale San Giovanni, then the Saito Kinen Festival in Japan playing the incredible Mahler 2.
September: concerts and masterclasses in Korea, followed by 10 days with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe in Vienna, Prague, and Bucharest, and then, new quintet work. October–November: five-week Japan tour including:

– Nielsen Flute Concerto with NHK Symphony under the legendary Maestro Blomstedt
– Recitals and CD recording with harpist Naoko Yoshino
– Concertos with the Aichi String Orchestra
– Final project with the Mito Chamber Orchestra

Late November: back in Italy for Flautissimo, a nice masterclass in Imola and Solo Concert in Imola and Milano.
December: recording my first solo album, get ready :)

What things would you offer as advice for a young flutist?

So here’s my advice to young musicians:
You never know which moment, person, or experience will change your life.

Be curious—about people, about music, about the world. Dive in. Do your best, and do it for you. Don’t follow advice blindly. The moment you do, you give up responsibility for your own path. If it doesn’t work out, it’s easy to blame someone else. But when the choice is yours, you stay in control, you can fix things. You learn from it, you grow.

And remember: choosing matters—not only on a big life level, but in the tiniest, most intimate moments too. Choosing where to study next year is as meaningful as choosing to keep your eyes closed during the breath after the opening phrase of the second movement of Mozart.
Both are acts of intention. Both shape who you become.

And the beautiful thing about a choice is—you can always change it.
If it no longer fits you, you’re allowed to move. You’re allowed to grow. That’s not failure. It’s freedom!