HH
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Back to Mozart!
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« Reply #15 on: June 23, 2009, 05:02:40 PM » |
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Yes, I understand your point!
Here is where I am coming from (this is a beginning of my book that is being translated from Russian to English):
When I was seven years old, I experienced my very first and most bitter disappointment. I absolutely loved music. So much so, that I even dreamed of going to music school and learning to play the piano. How joyful I was when I found out that I’d get to go there! With eager anticipation, I savored the image of preludes and waltzes simply flowing out of my fingers. But things didn’t turn out so easily at all… Music school turned out to be a true nightmare.
For hours, I was tormented by merciless sheet music, trudging through the notes as if I were stumbling through dense jungles. My fingers refused to do what my mind told them to do, music wasn’t being made. My teacher noticed all of this – and on top of that advised that I play with “expression and beauty!” Oh, is that all there is to it? I’ll just go ahead and do that right now! Where the heck was the beauty that she talking about? How could I hear the whole of the song I was playing when I was just trying to make my fingers the right keys on time?
On the other hand, in the school for general studies, I was a star in music class! We got to dance, clapped to all sorts of rhythms, and even sang our favorite songs. There wasn’t any sheet music, plus, it was all super easy. These were two different types of “Music”: one was fun and easy, and the other was demanding and boring. And both of them taught me poorly. Actually, neither of them taught me at all.
At home, Mom struggled right along with me, lacking the power to help out – she didn’t know the notes any better than I. . It came to such a point that my mother got a piece of paper and wrote out the entire song with the Russian names for each note, marking each word-note with the corresponding number for which finger I needed to play it with. Afterwards, she’d stoop over me at a breath’s distance and compare my every move to what was written in her ‘note’ book. In this way, we trampled along together like puppies in a ditch. Interest in such an education simply withered in front of your eyes. I don’t remember this method helping me out very much, but at least it gave my mom peace of mind. For the most part, to me, piano became an instrument of torture. It had to have been a miracle that I didn’t come to hate music.
In spite of all of this, I still managed to complete my music education. In order to fully understand how I outsmarted the system and managed to finish music school, music prep school, and then the music conservatory, all with outstanding marks, one must be familiar with an old anecdote:
“Sir, how did you become a millionaire?”
“Oh, it was a long and torturous process! On one street I found apples for ten cents, and on another for thirty cents. I bought the apples for one price and sold them for the other, carefully pocketing the difference.”
“And after that..?
“Well, after that my rich uncle died and left me his inheritance.”
My unexpected inheritance came to me as a miracle. At some point, I was suddenly given a golden ticket – the perfect pitch – the natural ability to identify notes in their highest form. I just knew what note I was hearing. It was like gaining sight after a lifetime of blindness! Unexpectedly, I was provided with a fulcrum, and a beautiful world of music was suddenly opened up to me! On the fly, I could write down melodies I was hearing on paper. And after writing down a multitude of different melodies, I saw how how all of this stuff is really put together. It turns out that everything in music is actually quite simple and logical! All one needs is a focal point to see this, and to understand. I started feeling very sorry for those that continued to think that serious music is boring and complicated. And it made me want more than anything for every person to see music for what it really is – to see, and to want to learn. That is when I decided to become a music teacher.
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