Me & My Piano History

Yesterday, a friend of mine came out of the blue and asked me for a favour - to be the Pianist in her wedding ceremony. I was flattered that she approached me, but the keys are really starting to look a bit foreign to me, so I hesitated in responding.

I learned to play the pianoforte the way most people do: guided by the traditional approach that stemmed from the good old Royal Academy of Music, with Grade 1-8 to be attained in preferrably 8 years (12 for me). The traditional approach requires students be able to read music before they can actually play anything that sounds like music. Lessons were attached with a string of the world's most boring theory, scales and arpeggios (we need to brush up a bit of Italian as well). This traditional approach fails more often than it succeeds, and indeed, many youngsters scared the hell out of it and quit so soon after they began.

The only reason I didn’t become one of those statistics was because my mother forced me to stick with it throughout the 12 years of my childhood. It wasn’t much fun for me and it was certainly less fun for my mother. I’ve avoided touching the piano for years after I turned 18 even when I have nothing better to do.

Before I seriously think about turning down my friend, perhaps I should revisit my long forgotten sight reading skills and if, and only if my fingers aren't rusted yet, I might consider playing at the wedding. In that case, my friend would have my mother to thank for, not me.