Monday, July 02, 2007
The Piano Saga, Part I
In the beginning, I grew up a piano snob.
I started playing the piano when I was either 4 or 5 years old (stories vary). At any rate, I can't remember a time I wasn't playing. I learned to read music at more or less the same time I learned to read English. My parents had a nice wlanut Yamaha 6-foot baby grand they bought when they moved to Salt Lake City the year before I was born for $7,000.
My mom paid me to play the piano. Really, it was a substitute for an allowance. I got one penny per minute of practicing--for a young kid in the early 80s, that actually wasn't a bad wage. I slogged through it, even when my older brothers quit.
The magic moment happened when I was about 13 years old. I switched to a new teacher (Craig Kaelin, praise be to his name) who focused more on jazz and pop styles (and specifically on reading chord symbols) rather than classical (specifically, reading notes). Finally, I was good enough to enjoy myself while playing the piano. I was a pianist from that point on. It's one of the defining points of my self-identity, and it has been since I was 13.
I suppose, then, I should blame Craig for my most recent purchase: A brand-new 5'10" Kawai grand piano. After all, if he hadn't brought me to the point of playing the piano as a source of self-entertainment and self-fulfillment, I wouldn't want a piano in my home. But from about that point of my teenage life onward, I knew that I would need to have a piano in my home when I grew up. And not just any piano--a grand piano.
Now I'm grown up, and now I finally have that grand piano. This is the story of that piano...
(To be continued...)
I started playing the piano when I was either 4 or 5 years old (stories vary). At any rate, I can't remember a time I wasn't playing. I learned to read music at more or less the same time I learned to read English. My parents had a nice wlanut Yamaha 6-foot baby grand they bought when they moved to Salt Lake City the year before I was born for $7,000.
My mom paid me to play the piano. Really, it was a substitute for an allowance. I got one penny per minute of practicing--for a young kid in the early 80s, that actually wasn't a bad wage. I slogged through it, even when my older brothers quit.
The magic moment happened when I was about 13 years old. I switched to a new teacher (Craig Kaelin, praise be to his name) who focused more on jazz and pop styles (and specifically on reading chord symbols) rather than classical (specifically, reading notes). Finally, I was good enough to enjoy myself while playing the piano. I was a pianist from that point on. It's one of the defining points of my self-identity, and it has been since I was 13.
I suppose, then, I should blame Craig for my most recent purchase: A brand-new 5'10" Kawai grand piano. After all, if he hadn't brought me to the point of playing the piano as a source of self-entertainment and self-fulfillment, I wouldn't want a piano in my home. But from about that point of my teenage life onward, I knew that I would need to have a piano in my home when I grew up. And not just any piano--a grand piano.
Now I'm grown up, and now I finally have that grand piano. This is the story of that piano...
(To be continued...)
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