Monday, March 07, 2005

the death of pride (once again)

I’ve taken music lessons for most of my life. There have been years of piano, with various teachers… clarinet, again, with various teachers. Piano again and again. Now organ. And there’s a phenomenon that never seems to go away: no matter how well my fingers (and now feet) have behaved in private, all control is lost once my teacher sits down expectantly beside me.

And so, during today’s organ lesson, my feet rebelled, my fingers mutinied, and my brain shut down entirely. My whole body was laughing at me, though my organ teacher was very patient. I get all frustrated when this happens. But the harder I think about what I’m playing, the more my fingers make things up or stall out entirely. My ankles start bending the opposite way, or decide to stay hooked under the bench. Meanwhile, my eyes are wondering if they have ever read music before. 

Actually, it’s all pretty hilarious.

And sad. Because I really did have this piece mastered a scant two hours ago…

This is a good way to stay humble, I guess. To stop all protests, all whining, and to accept the fact that I’ll be facing exercises 7 and 8 for another week… Hm.

But I am glad for one piece—a really haunting Kyrie—that I also need to brush up. It’s supposed to get my fingers used to releasing at odd times, and holding notes down for ages while my other fingers do something else. And it’s beautiful—very minor, very dark. Another great thing about organ practice: I can play it once through with a mellow flute sound, and then push a few buttons and play a bolder trumpety sound. And then for the last time round, I push every button in sight.  Glorious. I’m waiting for the ceiling to crash down around me… —jl

Posted by Jenn Langefeld on 03/07 at 06:16 PM
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