Just Something You Have to See

While I plug away at honing my skills at legato and hand synchronization, I would ask you to watch this video. I go on and on about the power of opera, and here is something that can't help but uplift anyone.




This event occurred on November 13th, 2009; an ordinary day at the Central Market of Valencia. Suddenly, various merchants (who are really professional opera singers operating incognito) begin to sing excerpts from Giuseppe Verdi's La Traviata. This is a moment of pure magic for a group of people fortunate to have been present at this remarkable publicity event designed to promote an upcoming opera performance.

The Real Struggle

Wow, so up to now I haven't truly wrestled with anything that's taxed my abilities to master fairly quickly. Now I'm beginning to hit the wall, I think. I've begun to learn actual technique; moving quickly from chord to chord, working low and deftly around the keyboard, among the sharps and flats. Building speed seems like a matter of time and practice. Nothing too strenuous.

So I jumped just a little bit ahead and began working on a simple song with a 3/4 back-beat. Actually Teacher played it for me and opined that I could begin working on it. So I did. Well...

It's a lot harder than it looks. I can play each hand individually without much effort. But coordinating the two is wrecking me. I look like the Scarecrow from Batman.

I'll get some advice and tutoring tonight at my lesson. If I master it, I'll try to record it and post it here for your enjoyment and edification.

On the Prowl

I'm out of town on business for a few days, in my hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee. I think I'll prowl around some of the shops here looking for a used keyboard with hammered keys. It's quite possible I'll find one at a reasonable price if I'm diligent. I really like the feel of a "real " piano and I need the practice to build my finger strength and technique. My music is also calling more and more for both piano and forte --soft and loud--playing, and alas, my simple electronic keyboard has only one tone. When I bought it, I was unsophisticated in the ways of electric pianos, and assumed it would be a while before I would require a more sophisticated instrument.

Playing on a real piano once a week during my lessons is a bit disadvantageous because I find I like the feel of real keys. In comparison, the keys of my cheaper keyboard are spongy and unsatisfying. Yes, I think it's time for an upgrade. But buying a new 88 key, hammered, touch-sensitive electric piano, well, we're talking some serious money. I guess the real question, which I'm simultaneously circumventing, elucidating and entertaining, is: am I in this for the long haul?

Five weeks may be too soon to tell, but there is no denying I have a lifetime passion for music.

I'm looking for a sign.

Midway for the Midlife Guy

After last night's practice session, I noticed I attained the halfway mark in Book One of my Alfred's Lesson Course. On this momentous occasion, we finished up the "G" position and moved on to the "C" Position. This rather cramped location on the keyboard relocates you with both thumbs on Middle C. A bit awkward, but the fingering for some of the sample pieces are rather elegant, especially for the Sharps and Flats. I began practicing from an actual songbook.

The used copy of the Pop Hits Songbook I purchased from Amazon for the bargain price of $3,95 has stickers next to some of the songs. Now come on--this is the ADULT course. The arrangements are supposedly a bit more challenging than the children's course.

But the HALF-WAY point. Hoorah, I think I'll celebrate somehow. Open to suggestions. Maybe I'll buy some stickers.

At various points in the Lesson book--on the bottom of the page--are encouraging footnotes: "You are now ready to begin (various suggested supplementary publication)." Of course, I went through the Lesson book, logged onto Amazon, and got them all. I lugged my huge haul of Alfred publications to my lesson to consult with Teacher to see what tunes I could tackle. She was really impressed with the twenty pounds of literature I had amassed. She told me she never had a student who actually bought all the recommended literature. I guess I'm what you call a motivated student. Either that or obsessive/compulsive. What's the difference?

February

February is a low time in my mood cycles. Winter, and February in particular, saps all the energy from me. My entire psychosomatic being wants to go into hibernation until the sun comes out again. I once wrote a poem describing February:

February is the unshaven month:
It lies around in a tattered gray undershirt
Too dispirited
To even finish out a full thirty days.

Not exactly a firework in the literary firmament, but I liked it.

And yet life goes on. Responsibilities don't hide under rocks even when we wish we could. I've found great solace in studying music. Music has always been the one solid comfort in my life. I remember when I had to work for a living (before my liberation into self-employment), jobs I despised, yet on my lunch break I could go out to my car, listen to Bach, Wagner, Beethoven for an hour, and survive another day. When I'm sad, music uplifts me. When I'm scattered, it grounds me. When the world breaks me, it puts me back together.

If it's a good day, music can only make it better.

Fortunately, February is a very good month for opera lovers. Three transmission this month in the Metropolitan Opera HD season. Not to mention all the great radio broadcasts.

Valentine's Day was good. Wife and I ate chocolate and watched movies. February isn't all bad. I just wish I had more energy. Yet the month is halfway over, and March just around the corner. In the meantime:

Moving out of Kindergarten

Up to now we've been working amongst the ivory expanse of the white keys only. Recently, we've moved to the black keys, the Sharps and Flats. Chords incorporating Sharps and Flats are very interesting as sometimes you must straddle those black keys, and I wonder how people with blunt, sausage-shaped fingers manage that. As a Fop, I have long tapered fingers, so it isn't a problem for me, but I've seen Bluesmen with fingers that look like those balloons from which clowns twist rubber animals. I wonder how they wedge those hamhocks in that half-inch space. They must have worked out their own methods.

I feel as if I've reached a crossroads. To me, this represents the first real step from kindergarten into actual piano playing. It's the difference, to me, between thinking about learning the piano, and being serious about learning to play the piano.

That's all I have to write about. I was looking at songs in some of the songbooks I bought and I thought "I could play some of these."

Happy Valentine's Day. I've spent some very nice time with Lady Wife and it's been a good day.

Still Here

Been on the road for the past few days doing shows in the Chicago area. I drove through snowy desolation on 65 North where the monolithic carcasses of overturned tractor-trailer rigs littered the medians like relics from the Jurassic age. I should have brought a dog sled. My show went very well, but in the obligatory after-show schmoozing with the company bigwigs, I was sure we were all going to wind up in a Chicago prison. Prison is not a good place for a Fop. I'm too delicate and pretty to survive there long. Martha Stewart barely survived the food; I know I would wither in the cultural wasteland; I don't think the other prisoners would accept a tattoo of Monet's Camille Doncieux as a suitable sign of machismo, plus I'm not sure scented creams and oils are allowed in the shower room.

These rakes, many of whom hailed from the wilds of Canada and Wisconsin, assaulted the quiet streets of Arlington Heights propelled by alcohol-fueled exuberance and seeking more of the same. When they found out all the bars closed at 11 PM, I thought violence would be the citizenry's portion and mayhem their lot. I don't consume alcohol, so my judgment was intact, my mind pure, and my wholesome moral qualities untainted by the bellowing profanity and lewd suggestions which issued in an unceasing froth from my business associates. They intimidated the bartender at one club which was in the process of closing into serving them cocktails, and as my companions sunk lower and lower into savagery, I felt as a sweet Lilly flowering on the bottommost floor of Hell. Bystanders were accosted, taxi drivers insulted and made the hapless target of the most vile suggestions. It's said Man is suspended between the heights of heaven and the pits of depravity, and that night I witnessed his utter Fall.

I yearned for the peace and quiet of my piano.

It was an evening of horrors and wonders. I also booked four shows from it. Behold the glamorous world of show business, my readers. Upon my return home, I scrubbed myself in the shower until I was raw, intoning, "It WILL come off--it WILL come off..." Thank goodness for Nivea for Men.