in time with time
by cynthia drew

After I began piano lessons three months ago, I decided that the cruelty of scoring explains why musicians survive while the rest of us shuffle off to Buffalo. My first few piano lessons should have lasted an hour but stretched, instead, to span the better part of a day. It may be that learning music can alter your years.

I should have suspected something was up when I met my piano teacher, a woman with the wisdom of Yoda. The first lesson was a reading lesson: a history of the piano and biographies of Bach and Mozart. This playing of music is a lark, I thought. I’m on my way. Lesson two was an introduction to scoring. It’s not that I’m totally ignorant of music – it’s easy enough for me to follow along with a tune. The notes go up or down, and if I listen to the intro I can get the drift of how the thing should sound.
But wait – why isn’t Middle C in the middle? Or on the bottom line, at least? How did Middle C come to be on an arbitrary line a line below the bottom line? And so began the long hour, accepting on faith that Middle C was not where I thought it should be. I used a large map of bubbles ascending the staff, marked C, D, E, F, G, A, B, and C for the first few lessons.

The third lesson was timing: three-quarter, four-four and the rest. By rest I mean a breather. But there’s more than one kind of breather – there’s the semiquaver, the demi-semiquaver, semibreve and crotchet, tied values, compound signatures and broken chords and I emerged from lesson three with a relentless metronome click-clacking in my head.

The baffling issue of sharps and flats arose in lesson four – which was it? “Well,” my sweet-faced teacher explained, flicking a pointy ear, “it’s both, depending on the key of the piece – F sharp is G flat – same piano key, trust me. These,” said she, “are the Accidentals. Sharps, Flats and Naturals.”

The hour ground on, struggling with something that I thought could be simplified by having just sharps or flats. Pick one and ditch the other – did we really need both?
By the fifth lesson it was time to try a two-handed piece. I was apprehensive, hoping that nothing would be complicated if I took it in small enough steps. The steps couldn’t have been smaller but still they were complicated: think that C below Middle C should be located in the same spot on the Bass Clef as Middle C is located on the Treble Clef? Think again, it isn’t. It isn’t on the first line, either. It’s on the second line. It just is, said my Yoda-master. Lesson five lasted for weeks, working on that daunting piece, “When the Saints Go Marching In.” An hour’s practice could last all morning. I couldn’t go back for another lesson without first mastering both hands functioning together. At least I knew what the song should sound like.

Lesson six began innocently enough, discussing consonance and dissonance, but grew to be the longest hour of my life. I’ve spent shorter hours sitting in freezing doctor’s offices, dressed in paper gowns open down the back. We moved from Open Consonance to Sharp Consonance and Mild, Soft and Neutral or Restless Consonance and it began to muddle. On we pressed to Degrees: Tonic, Supertonic, Mediant and Sub-Dominant, then forged ahead to Intervals – Unison, Major Second, Perfect 4th, and Octave. “Better wobbly you should be from information overload,” she said with a wink and a scratch, leaving me to sort it out on my own. Her finale that day was Enharmonics – Diminished Unison, Minor Third, Augmented Fourth and everything in between.

As in aerobics, even though I’m not seeing results I’m firming up my flabby cerebral cortex and lessons seven through fifteen will no doubt yield lobes of steel. We have yet to delve into Dynamic Marks – Sforzato, Smorzando and Calando – all of which sound like expensive vacation spots. Then the finer distinctions of C Natural Minor, C Harmonic Minor and C Melodic Minor. Legato, Triads and Minor Scales, Suspended Fourths, C Dominant Elevenths and Compound Intervals. And the endings: Appogiatura, Acciatura and Mordent. Italian cheeses, I’m sure, before they ripened into grace notes. Finally pedaling – Sostenuto, the Damper and the Soft. Choices of movement with feet to add to the demands of hands, ears and brain.

And voilá! A life extender if there ever was one. Time has stood still for months. I could learn to play the piano, or I could take up quantum mechanics, but physically, quantum mechanics wouldn’t be the same challenge. I think I’ll go practice “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

Cynthia Drew's short stories have appeared in Mountainland Magazine, Tree Magic and in this year’s New Century Voices. She lives in Weaverville.