Lang Lang and Lost Lessons
Last night, we went to see the 25-year-old Chinese pianist, Lang Lang, perform at the Kennedy Center. The evening was incredible - Lang Lang has been criticized as a showman, and he's never met a theatrical flourish he doesn't like, but the music (all piano solos) was riveting, and the interpretations left me smiling most of the time.
I started taking piano lessons when I was in second grade. The classes were taught through school, in a music room in the library. I skipped my science class once a week to take the lessons. Ultimately, I decided I liked science more than piano, so I stopped taking the lessons.
Later, my parents enrolled me in lessons with a woman who taught out of her home. She wrote notes for me, regarding my work from the past week and my assignments for the next week, on a steno pad, using a fountain pen with peacock blue ink.
I hated to practice and found that I would cram in my practice sessions the day before my piano lesson. I thought that I was making progress the day my teacher gave me Beethoven's ODE TO JOY to learn. I mastered the bold chords and loved playing them - until I visited my friend, Paula. She, too, was working on ODE; she had a different piano teacher, and a different practice ethic. I looked at her music, and it was infinitely more complex than my own. I was ashamed that I'd been plunking out my chords, while she was playing actual *music*.
I don't know how much longer I took lessons, but I somehow suspect it was a matter of weeks...
Mindy, who has never had a strong musical sense :-)
I started taking piano lessons when I was in second grade. The classes were taught through school, in a music room in the library. I skipped my science class once a week to take the lessons. Ultimately, I decided I liked science more than piano, so I stopped taking the lessons.
Later, my parents enrolled me in lessons with a woman who taught out of her home. She wrote notes for me, regarding my work from the past week and my assignments for the next week, on a steno pad, using a fountain pen with peacock blue ink.
I hated to practice and found that I would cram in my practice sessions the day before my piano lesson. I thought that I was making progress the day my teacher gave me Beethoven's ODE TO JOY to learn. I mastered the bold chords and loved playing them - until I visited my friend, Paula. She, too, was working on ODE; she had a different piano teacher, and a different practice ethic. I looked at her music, and it was infinitely more complex than my own. I was ashamed that I'd been plunking out my chords, while she was playing actual *music*.
I don't know how much longer I took lessons, but I somehow suspect it was a matter of weeks...
Mindy, who has never had a strong musical sense :-)
I would love to be more musical but it's not in my genes.