Classical Music in the Wild
In which I encountered a roving orchestra van giving a free concert
At the tender age of 4, I began piano lessons. My father played nightly. He’d come home from work, kiss my mother, change his clothes, make coffee, light a cigarette, and sit down and play for an hour or so each night.
We loved listening to him play. He’d play old standards as well as newer pop music, which he could figure out how to play just by listening and then providing an appropriate bass to go with the melody.
We all took lessons, and my dad promised to give his piano to the one who learned how to play by ear the best.
I enjoyed playing so much that for much of my life, I did my best to make sure I had a piano in my house. But I never played well. Halting, “wait.. no, wait” as I’d stop to find the proper key or chord, and mistake-riddled, I’d play for the beauty that my ears heard, providing the world with a racket more akin to stray cats scrapping with each other than beautiful music. Still, I managed to learn to play well enough. I can read music and muddle through some songs, when I work hard and practice often. But it doesn’t stick. And I never developed enough technique to play beautifully.
I compare my piano playing to that of the characters in The Last of Us, in the beautifully poignant storyline between Bill and Frank (played by Nick Offerman and Murray Bartlett). Frank’s character tries to play the piano, overly loud with no real control over dynamics and riddled with mistakes, his zest for life though clearly apparent, whereas Bill’s character — sensitive, shyer, and withdrawn — plays with grace and beauty, making the piano sound like the finest silk threads spun from gold.
I play like Frank.
I walk my dog nightly around a large park on a lake. As we strolled along a shaded area with a canopy of trees overgrown over the path, I heard classical music coming from behind a cluster of trees. Hearing music on the path isn’t unusual as people bring their picnics and dinners to the park to enjoy with their families, along with their boom boxes. But it is unsual to hear classical music.
As I got closer, I thought, is that “live music”? I then saw, seated on a the slope of a hill, a crowd sitting on blanket, as if in an amphitheater. At the bottom of the hill was a big black van. I investigated.
One side of the van was open and a pianist and some strings players were giving a classical concert. Sunset was upon us, a beautifully still, warm early summer evening. It wa the last stop for The Concert Truck on their several months journey.
What a great idea to bring classical music to the masses. I stopped for a brief time to listen before continuing with my walk.
The next day, out and about, I saw The Concert Truck parked in the neighborhood where I was shopping.
I had never heard of The Concert Truck before, but I’m all about celebrating the arts and supporting free arts events whenever I can.
For the past few years, I have been taking guitar lessons, something I never thought I’d do. I have enough music background to where re-learning basic music theory is easy. And I know more now about learning in general and practicing that I have been able to start off on the right foot. But learning to play an instrument well is not a quick and easy task, at least for me. It’s a lot of repetition and stumbling. It doesn’t come easily. But I love learning music so much. My mind relaxes. Learning music opens the creativity floodgates for me. Musical phrases get translated into verbal phrases, and storylines and titles fill my mind so quickly that it takes all my effort to get the ideas down before they disappear into the ether.
Next week, I plan to get back to basics here at My Own Private Waste Land.
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In addition to my fledgling guitar rockstar status, I’m also a writer. I’ve written an unpublished memoir, My Own Private Waste Land, which I’m in the process of querying. I’m at work on my second memoir as well as many other assorted writing projects.
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On this substack, I write about:
writing, literature, and the writing life
writing process
memoir craft
mental illness - major depressive disorder, suicide, borderline personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder
sailing
alternative lifestyles - polyamory and kink
Until next time, I’ll . . ..
Just keep writing!
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Music is more often than not the savingest grace.