Thursday, August 09, 2007
I could be more creative with the piano. I can feel the instrument breathe. Different phrases breathe at different times, and I can control that. But I can't let go. Improvising is difficult for me. Keeping time with other instruments is difficult, because I'm used to feeling the music and how I think it wants to slow down or speed up to breathe. One time I had friends over in high school. We made music. I played piano. Kevin had his guitar. Rose had a recorder and Amy had a flute. Pam had a cheap drum of mine. We had fun. I got high on music. I was actually jamming, somehow I knew what I was doing. When they left, my mom said I couldn't do that again, because the room we were in, the room with the piano, had white silk couches and she didn't want my friends sitting on them. We could have broken the glass table, she said. My friends didn't say hello or chat with her. We made too much noise.
And that was that.
I'm remembering this because I'm settled (more or less) into my new house. My electric piano has arrived. And I can play and sing, and the acoustics are grand. Music is back in my life.
And as for your Mom, it astounds me that you managed to escape your adolescence with your soul intact.
I still feel rebellious when I sing, even today, in my own house. Just hearing my own voice is thrilling in a "screw you, world" sort of way.