I made my Piano debut in Boca Raton, Florida.
I was young and it was a debacle – probably the reason I played the drums in grade school. My piece was the ever troubling ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb.’ I can’t remember what key, but I think it was somewhere near the middle of the piano.
Right around the third part of ‘white as snow’ I biffed. I think my dad said something like, ‘the great thing about music is, if you make a mistake, no one knows.’ Everyone knew. Everyone. The event was not too dissimilar to Ralph Wiggiams rendition on the nose flute. (That’s some good flutin’ boy.) Horrified, I stopped my career short. This was for the best, I think. After that we went to McDonalds. Sometimes all you need is a little McDonalds.
Last night, I went to the Annual Shoumen Pianist and Violinist Contest. It was a chance to watch these kids (they were still in high school) perform. The most entertaining was a 17 year old who did battle against a full philharmonic orchestra. Really, it was like dueling banjos; but, without visions of bad, bad things happening in forests.
The stage was crowded with very serious people and the all the violinists had very pointy sticks. To make the setting feel more threatening, in the middle sat a Steinway. It was black. A black similar to the time I decided to take up calligraphy. It seemed like a good idea, but before I knew it I was dripping with – very expensive – darkness. Both were neither shiny clean nor grubby dirty. The kinda black you paint things that are very secret. The kinda black that might push you away or suck you in whole. People lose their souls to things this black. I was nervous.
This girl walked up to the piano and my first thought was, ‘chick, you’re in trouble.’ Please, do not imagine some magazine-cover beauty striding to the tiny bench they had placed for here. She was generally the size and shape as a 4x4 fence post and had braces. Soon enough, the music started. The piece went back and forth. Timid piano, mean loud orchestra. Furious piano, raging strings. And this went on, and on. Who landed the first punch? Who (according to sheet music script) should have won? These things I cant tell you. All I know is this kid killed ‘em.
After the concert there was a reception. In good Bulgarian tradition, everyone was asking why the teenagers we not drinking something stronger than beer. I had some chicken nuggets, she popped open a brew. Nuts.
If you had asked me to make a list of things I am expected out of Peace Corps, an appreciation of classical piano would not have made it. (Of course, neither would have wearing a suit once a week, having a cell phone, or needing to make business cards.) But, that is great thing about doing something so new. Rarely is it completely boring.
Hope all is well and I would love to hear from you,
Mark
PS: I have changed my email to markljackson@gmail.com...Full Entry>>
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Right around the third part of ‘white as snow’ I biffed. I think my dad said something like, ‘the great thing about music is, if you make a mistake, no one knows.’ Everyone knew. Everyone. The event was not too dissimilar to Ralph Wiggiams rendition on the nose flute. (That’s some good flutin’ boy.) Horrified, I stopped my career short. This was for the best, I think. After that we went to McDonalds. Sometimes all you need is a little McDonalds.
Last night, I went to the Annual Shoumen Pianist and Violinist Contest. It was a chance to watch these kids (they were still in high school) perform. The most entertaining was a 17 year old who did battle against a full philharmonic orchestra. Really, it was like dueling banjos; but, without visions of bad, bad things happening in forests.
The stage was crowded with very serious people and the all the violinists had very pointy sticks. To make the setting feel more threatening, in the middle sat a Steinway. It was black. A black similar to the time I decided to take up calligraphy. It seemed like a good idea, but before I knew it I was dripping with – very expensive – darkness. Both were neither shiny clean nor grubby dirty. The kinda black you paint things that are very secret. The kinda black that might push you away or suck you in whole. People lose their souls to things this black. I was nervous.
This girl walked up to the piano and my first thought was, ‘chick, you’re in trouble.’ Please, do not imagine some magazine-cover beauty striding to the tiny bench they had placed for here. She was generally the size and shape as a 4x4 fence post and had braces. Soon enough, the music started. The piece went back and forth. Timid piano, mean loud orchestra. Furious piano, raging strings. And this went on, and on. Who landed the first punch? Who (according to sheet music script) should have won? These things I cant tell you. All I know is this kid killed ‘em.
After the concert there was a reception. In good Bulgarian tradition, everyone was asking why the teenagers we not drinking something stronger than beer. I had some chicken nuggets, she popped open a brew. Nuts.
If you had asked me to make a list of things I am expected out of Peace Corps, an appreciation of classical piano would not have made it. (Of course, neither would have wearing a suit once a week, having a cell phone, or needing to make business cards.) But, that is great thing about doing something so new. Rarely is it completely boring.
Hope all is well and I would love to hear from you,
Mark
PS: I have changed my email to markljackson@gmail.com...Full Entry>>
[Email to a Friend:
]
