Way back in the Summer of '08, I accompanied my daughter to the high school. She was "trying out" for band. I use sarcastic quotes because it wasn't really a tryout; it was "let's get you to try several different instruments to see what you like and, oops, you can't play that one because we already have too many kids taking that instrument up and here is a contract for instrument rental that will mean spending two to four times as much dough over the course of your school career than if your parents just ponied up and bought one for you at a local music store."
But, I digress.
She tried out the French Horn, my particular instrument of choice. I was kinda hoping she'd take to it since we already owned one. She didn't like it. She tried flute, clarinet and baritone. She had her heart set on clarinet, but was told that too many kids had already taken that (WTH?) so she had to do something else. Her second choice was alto sax, which fingers quite simlarly to the clarinet (so I'm told by the salesman with honest to god slick backed hair). And she's quite taken with it. It really has been a joy to see her progress from goose honking to quite mellow, almost sultry tones over the last year and a half. I don't think she'll be moving over to the clarinet section after all.
While I was there, I asked if I could try the Horn. It had been several years (8?) since I last played, but I was eager to see if I "still had it." I didn't. My embouchure was all over the place. Horns are quite harmonic in nature and it doesn't take much to slip between notes if your control isn't very good. I couldn't find my place along the scale and just made an embarrassment of myself.
I bring this all up because recently I happened to be in the room next door while my daughter practiced the melody to Beethoven's 9th. I also happened to know where my own Horn was, having just moved everything from the storage shed and unpacked it in the furnace room of our new house. And I thought to myself, what the hell?
I got out my Horn, made sure the valves still worked, then started playing from the other room in harmony with my daughter's sax. She came running out, with the biggest smile on her face. And I had one too. I still "had it." I just needed my own Horn to find it. My ombouchure was fried about 5 mins after playing with her, and I could tell that I'd never play Carnegie, but I played, damnit.
It just felt soooooo good to do it. Both for myself, and to make music with my daughter.
Last Thursday my family and I attended daughter #1's spring concert. It's always been an interesting concert that involves the bands of all three age levels: elementary, junior high and high school. Some years the three bands even play the same piece (but not this year). But this isn't a post about her wonderful performance. That's something I'll keep to myself and relish with joy.
Well, you all know how I feel about returning to my high school for musical events (for you newcomers, check out this post). Thursday was no different. I wanted to be anywhere but there, except for the fact that I knew it was important to my daughter. I was a bundle of nerves.
It turned out to be an incredibly cathartic experience. The high school concert band was simply astonishing. They performed a piece called Appalachian Morning (found here, but not by my Alma Mater[and not nearly the same as hearing it live]).
I was simply blown away. I closed my eyes without knowing it and was moved to tears. When it was over, I was truly surprised to find myself in an auditorium surrounded by people.
I have forgotten just about every good thing I had while involved in high school music. I have resisted exploring those memories and remembering those friends. I have focused so much of my high school memories on the unpleasant, the conflict, the pigeonholing, the self imposed labels.
Yet, in one evening, I was transported back twenty years and found myself in familiar, happy surroundings.
It has been a wonderful three years rediscovering music with the guitar. But, if I'm really honest, the French Horn will always be my first love, the instrument that first comes to mind when I think of my musicianship. I can't help it. I am a horn player first, despite the fact I haven't picked the dang thing up in over ten years.
Each band present their annual awards that evening. I was so happy for these young people. It was the Senior students' last performance and, as they came forward to be praised by their director, I felt envy. A quiet, happy envy, because I could still see in those seven kids the young man I had been.
I've mentioned Doug before. He's the friend who gave me a painfully honest apprasial of a song I wrote and he's the one that just a little hyper to have everyone use their pinky on the high E string when playing a G chord. Oh, and he gave Jane her first ding. Still, he is a great friend and I love him like a brother.
But now he's given me GAS. That's Guitar Acquisition Syndrome.
It happened suddenly and in a very public place.
We are both musicians in the church praise team. Yesterday, as we were getting our guitars off the stands to play, he whispers to me "Let's trade." And since I like doing silly things, we traded. My A&L Folk for his A&L Dreadnought.
Now, I've always eschewed dreds, complaining that the bassiness makes them sound muddy to my ear. I've always felt I prefer the caramel mid tones of my folk. Well, that might certainly have been true in the beginning of my stringed instrument journey. A heavy bass would have been distracting for me as I attempted to produced a balanced sound. Yesterday, however, I found I ADORED that bass--that I was looking forward to the chords that play all six strings or even better, the E chord with the open low E. It was delicious.
So, what am I to do? If I spend my "allowance" for a new guitar, I will risk the ire of Mrs. Amish. While I do have enough saved up, things are tight enough in other areas of the budget that to buy something so unnecessary would be, well, in the words of my youngest daughter, ungood.
I did, however, float an idea over to Doug. I know he has wanted to upgrade his guitar to a solid top. So, I suggested I buy his for about a hundred less than what he paid for it, and he can use that money for a newer, more exciting guitar with whitewalls and other bells and whistles.
He's considering it.
Stay tuned. The Amish Guitar may become a three guitar household after all...
Today I returned to my High School to watch my daughter perform at the annual Music Booster Auction. The auction lasts all day interspersed with performances from all music groups from grades 5 through 12. It is the first time I've attended since graduating 20 years ago. I couldn't wait to get out of there.
Music was a very important and prominent part of my high school career. I was in band, choir and the show choir, every musical, took music theory and a self directed history of music. I was Drum Major, Vice Pres of the Band, Choir President and Band Librarian. Everyone expected that I'd go on to major in music and teach--probably choral. Little did they know how much I hated it.
I hated how it defined me and how it limited me. I hated how so many kids band, choir and drama cared so deeply and passionately for these programs--how they invested their whole identity in being a "Band Geek". I hated how I continued to find myself being looked up to by friends, underclassmen and even parents as a leader. I had a modicum of talent, a flair for the dramatic and the willingness to make a fool of myself. For this I was put on a pedestal. I was Mr. Music, class of '88.
Yes, I have demons from my high school days.
It is still so frustrating thinking back on those days. I loved making the music. I long for playing in band or in a choir again. I miss it so much. I don't miss the expectations and the pressure. I don't miss tyring to push my defining boundaries beyond what others perceived. I don't miss trying to get others to understand me as someone other than Mr. Music. Sure, close friends and family knew, but you know how easy it is to be labeled in high school. Of course, little did I realize everyone was chafing against this pigeonholing.
So, fast forward 20 years and now I have a daughter that is entering into this world I have tried to put behind me. I am excited for her and her self confidence. I'm happy to see her enjoying alto sax and choir. I am fighting my demons for her sake. But, at the auction today, I found myself wanting to crawl out of my skin. Too many memories. Too many old, familiar faces saying that it figured I'd have a child involved in music. New worries about the expectations that will be on my daughter. Too many calls from the boosters for my time and money.
I am still burnt out on high school music.
I realize that this post is a whiny, petulant piece of drivel. Completely irrational and woefully egotistical. I share this because it is out of these feelings that my adult musical life has been shaped and molded. It is why I took up the guitar so I could make music on my own terms.
I'm not sure what to do. I want and need to support my daughter. But I just don't have the energy to involve myself back into that world.
I was nervous when the girls and I set up for the offertory. But only a little bit. To tell the truth, I was too busy to be nervous. I hadn't realized it, but I had volunteered to be involved in everything musical that morning--song leading, praise team and the offertory.
The girls did great. The deal between us was that they would sing alone. I would only come in if they got lost or started messing up. No need. My guitar playing, on the other hand, wasn't my best. I flubbed a few chords that are usually a no brainer. But I hit those B minors!
I happen to attend a church where the congregation actually applauds in appreciation. Mennonites applauding in church! The girls received two round of adulation, one for each song. My oldest daughter, who is a bit of a ham, did a little courtesy which got a laugh.
I'm lucky to have a church where I'm not expected to be perfect. Where kids, young kids, are encouraged to participate. I am blessed.
Tomorrow I will have what can arguably be my first public solo. Our worship minister has asked my daughters to sing during offertory. They'll only sing if I accompany. So, it looks like I'm playing in church for the first time alone. Usually I have the rest of the praise team to drown out my playing.
We're doing two songs: Magic Penny and Jesus Above All Names. Easy chords for the most part, except Names has a Bm that I have yet to really master.
Wish us luck!
