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Memories: Tickling the Ivories
So every now and then, I sit down to a piano and tinker. Depending on the mood, I drag out a trusty piece I've learned (or learned enough to play for a little bit) and play around with it.
Something I forget is that not many people know I play (inasmuch as I do, since really, it's been ages since I've done anything with it), so I surprise people now and then.
It happened again recently in the green room during RoM.
See, I have this thing. Call it.. a spidey sense. Where ever there is a piano, I seem to know it. And they call to me. Each and every one.
I knew about the piano in the green room from the first tour we took. And I successfully avoided it all up until one of the last performances. Then, somebody else sat and played, and that pretty much did it.
I whipped out a little bit of Gershwin's Prelude #2.
Not the first time I've surprised someone. Back at the end of 2007 during a rather infamous New Year's Eve party, I sat down to a baby grand I had been lusting over for a while and played some Brubeck. At one point, I managed to eek out a bit of Blue Rondo ala Turk and confused a dear who was a whole floor away from me, but who had Blue Rondo as her cell ring tone. She heard me and thought her phone was ringing. That made me smile.
I look back and I realize that for 9 years of lessons from the time I was 8 years old, I should really play better than I do. But then again, I never felt like lessons were a choice. Somewhere along the line, I showed vague interest and was promptly ushered off to a teacher and begun what I now regret to be an interesting but counterproductive time.
I don't know that I ever had "the gift" like some I knew. That deep talent where the musician literally bends the will of the instrument to their own and the meld together in this beautiful expression of creation. But I wasn't too bad. Good enough to garner 9 years worth of Superiors at the National Federation of Music Clubs annual festivals. Though I still maintain that they were too easy on me. I know a large part of my disillusion in the last years was due to the fact that I wasn't challenged, and I never cared enough to challenge myself. That, and with piano, the outlets are different if just because of the lack of portability of the instrument. I often joke that I would have been in marching band if my school could have afforded the tractor. :-)
I do look back and have fond memories here and there. Mostly of two things: My teacher was a bit of a hippie, and that was new and interesting to me. And also the feeling I got when I would learn a piece or a part of a piece well enough to play it to tempo and be able to express myself through it. The latter is what keeps me playing even now. I'm not one to play to perform. Never been one to crave the audience. But I do crave the feeling of getting so lost in a piece that I forget I'm even playing it. So deeply connected that I lose track of time and space.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for musicians and vocalists who do connect that way. You can hear it in their performance, and you can feel their soul through the vibrations in the air. I think this too has contributed to my dire love of live music. I've also often said that I'll even listen to elevator music as long as it is being played live right in front of me. :-)
Speaking of which, I need to get out to a few concerts soon of some sort or another. Been a while.
But as I renegotiate space in the apartment to account for tools and materials I can put away for a while, and plans to free up various spaces for entertaining and such, I plan to carve a little niche around the piano. She calls to me too, and I've neglected her voice for too long.
Something I forget is that not many people know I play (inasmuch as I do, since really, it's been ages since I've done anything with it), so I surprise people now and then.
It happened again recently in the green room during RoM.
See, I have this thing. Call it.. a spidey sense. Where ever there is a piano, I seem to know it. And they call to me. Each and every one.
I knew about the piano in the green room from the first tour we took. And I successfully avoided it all up until one of the last performances. Then, somebody else sat and played, and that pretty much did it.
I whipped out a little bit of Gershwin's Prelude #2.
Not the first time I've surprised someone. Back at the end of 2007 during a rather infamous New Year's Eve party, I sat down to a baby grand I had been lusting over for a while and played some Brubeck. At one point, I managed to eek out a bit of Blue Rondo ala Turk and confused a dear who was a whole floor away from me, but who had Blue Rondo as her cell ring tone. She heard me and thought her phone was ringing. That made me smile.
I look back and I realize that for 9 years of lessons from the time I was 8 years old, I should really play better than I do. But then again, I never felt like lessons were a choice. Somewhere along the line, I showed vague interest and was promptly ushered off to a teacher and begun what I now regret to be an interesting but counterproductive time.
I don't know that I ever had "the gift" like some I knew. That deep talent where the musician literally bends the will of the instrument to their own and the meld together in this beautiful expression of creation. But I wasn't too bad. Good enough to garner 9 years worth of Superiors at the National Federation of Music Clubs annual festivals. Though I still maintain that they were too easy on me. I know a large part of my disillusion in the last years was due to the fact that I wasn't challenged, and I never cared enough to challenge myself. That, and with piano, the outlets are different if just because of the lack of portability of the instrument. I often joke that I would have been in marching band if my school could have afforded the tractor. :-)
I do look back and have fond memories here and there. Mostly of two things: My teacher was a bit of a hippie, and that was new and interesting to me. And also the feeling I got when I would learn a piece or a part of a piece well enough to play it to tempo and be able to express myself through it. The latter is what keeps me playing even now. I'm not one to play to perform. Never been one to crave the audience. But I do crave the feeling of getting so lost in a piece that I forget I'm even playing it. So deeply connected that I lose track of time and space.
I have the utmost respect and admiration for musicians and vocalists who do connect that way. You can hear it in their performance, and you can feel their soul through the vibrations in the air. I think this too has contributed to my dire love of live music. I've also often said that I'll even listen to elevator music as long as it is being played live right in front of me. :-)
Speaking of which, I need to get out to a few concerts soon of some sort or another. Been a while.
But as I renegotiate space in the apartment to account for tools and materials I can put away for a while, and plans to free up various spaces for entertaining and such, I plan to carve a little niche around the piano. She calls to me too, and I've neglected her voice for too long.