Music Lessons

When I was seven years old, my mother made me learn how to play the piano. So one day, she dropped me off at a piano teacher's house. I sat down next to my teacher on the piano bench, not knowing what to do. My teacher looked at me, then said, "I will play you something." She played the beginnings of Fur Elise. Although a now common song for piano learners to play, it was of course way beyond my skill level and I was deeply impressed. Even now, hearing other people play it I am impressed and I still think it is a beautiful song. "Now," she said. "One day, if you practice enough, you will be able to play that song too."

I was excited. I couldn't wait to begin. But then my teacher pulled out a small, thick, bright orange book, and turned to the first page. On the page there were some funny black dots, which she told me were notes, and that I had to learn to read notes before I could play the piano. I was heartbroken. I didn't realize it would be so much work.

Seven years and four piano teachers later, I could play Fur Elise. I even had it memorized. And what's more, I had other songs memorized that I could play during piano recitals (you know, those things you make your kids do and you videotape them doing it, and the kids take the event so seriously but then they find out later the parents signed them up for all these activities to get them out of the house a few hours a week?). But alas, by now I was fourteen years old, and did not appreciate classical music. Sure I also learned to play the theme song to Titanic, but every kid my age knew how to play that. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to play guitar.

So I begged my mother for a guitar, and finally she relented. She bought me a beautiful acoustic Taylor, although since I am small it was a baby-sized guitar so it did not have as many frets as a regular acoustic guitar. At the time though, I didn't appreciate it. I wanted to be a rock star, and rock stars need electric guitars. My mother, in all her wisdom, said that if I learned how to play guitar on the acoustic, and practiced regularly and saved up my allowance, then I could buy the red Fender Stratocaster I had my eye on.

My first teacher was a middle-aged man who mostly played bass. He tried to teach me a few basic songs that required a little plucking, but it was really frustrating. And then, one day while in the guitar store drooling over my hopefully soon to be red-hot electric guitar, I met Will. Will was a nineteen year old young man who wore tight black shirts and fitted jeans, was in a band that played at the Warp Tour, and by my standards, was super cute and really cool.

For the next three years, Will would come to my house once a week and teach me electric guitar (yes, I finally saved up enough money to buy it-although I am glad I learned how to play acoustic first, since the strings are thicker it makes it easier to switch to electric. Also, it is easier to travel with an acoustic guitar). Through him I mastered how to play chords, which, if I play around people who don't know how to play guitar, I sound pretty impressive. Every week, I would pick a new song I wanted to learn and burn it onto a CD for Will, and the next week, he would come back with guitar tabs he wrote, and teach me how to play. During this time, I was also a part of two bands (you know how high schoolers are), and sometimes I shared with Will songs I had made up. He was always pretty encouraging, but of course, he was also getting paid to spend this time with me. Some of my other girlfriends also started taking guitar lessons from Will, and during the week in class we would gush about how hot we thought he was.

And then I got to college, and I replaced all my guitar-playing time with work. A friend of mine in the dorms used to want to play guitar with me, but he was much more skilled than me so I would feel self-conscious and not want to play. Every once in a while now, I'll pick up my guitar and spend some time playing, only to remember a week or two later there are other things that need to be done. Oftentimes I wish I had kept practicing. I feel the same way about piano. Sometimes, at my parent's home, I try to relearn the songs I used to know how to play, and it can be quite relaxing. My mother used to always tell me, "I didn't have the patience to learn how to play piano as a kid, and now I regret it. That's why I'm making you learn it." At the time I thought that was unfair, but now I understand.