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A Matter of Music
Last Saturday, I attended a song writing and performance competition at Tampines Mall. I'm usually not a huge fan of such contests, but turned up to support a friend who had gotten through to the semi-finals.
My friend, although a veteran at such competitions, was a nervous wreck.
Who could blame him? A competition at this level can launch careers and probably 11/12 of the crowd present would have loved to see him fail.
One by one, the contestants took their turns at the stage. Some were good while some were merely average. The performance of the better contestants left me acutely aware of my own lack where musical talent is involved. Oh I like music just fine, but can't make it to save my life. Despite almost four years of torture during my teenage years, I never could tell between G minor and D minor, unless a pianist rammed a note down my throat. My instrument of choice (actually, there wasn't much choice) was also dubious. I didn't learn the classically sexy piano and violin. Neither was I assigned the cool drums. Nor did I learn the laidback guitar. Instead, I was stuck with two rubbish cans masquerading as a set of tympanies. Tuning the duo involved lots of desperate spinning, curses and prayers, instead of a simple step or release of a foot pedal. Rating on the cool scale? 0. Rating on the sex appeal scale? -(3.2 ^ 4 million).
So it is with a deep regret that I watched most performances, where youngsters banged away on the organ, strummed their guitars, or sung in harmony. How great it'd be if I could tickle the ivories elegantly and effortlessly. How nice it'd be if I could play an intrument halfway decent for it to be an outlet for frustration.
I have of course, blatantly overlooked the hours of hard training that it takes for young musicians to attain a certain level of professionalism, despite having heard horror stories of piano grade exams. I don't need the exams or certification, merely the ability to play and to enjoy the process.
My friend did not make it to the finals, although I sincerely thought his song was better than certain songs which did get through. He'll get over the disappointment, write better songs. Maybe one day, he'll finally sell one to an established singer and start his own career. Maybe one day, I will find the courage to take up lessons.
Filed under: Personal, Musings
My friend, although a veteran at such competitions, was a nervous wreck.
Who could blame him? A competition at this level can launch careers and probably 11/12 of the crowd present would have loved to see him fail.
One by one, the contestants took their turns at the stage. Some were good while some were merely average. The performance of the better contestants left me acutely aware of my own lack where musical talent is involved. Oh I like music just fine, but can't make it to save my life. Despite almost four years of torture during my teenage years, I never could tell between G minor and D minor, unless a pianist rammed a note down my throat. My instrument of choice (actually, there wasn't much choice) was also dubious. I didn't learn the classically sexy piano and violin. Neither was I assigned the cool drums. Nor did I learn the laidback guitar. Instead, I was stuck with two rubbish cans masquerading as a set of tympanies. Tuning the duo involved lots of desperate spinning, curses and prayers, instead of a simple step or release of a foot pedal. Rating on the cool scale? 0. Rating on the sex appeal scale? -(3.2 ^ 4 million).
So it is with a deep regret that I watched most performances, where youngsters banged away on the organ, strummed their guitars, or sung in harmony. How great it'd be if I could tickle the ivories elegantly and effortlessly. How nice it'd be if I could play an intrument halfway decent for it to be an outlet for frustration.
I have of course, blatantly overlooked the hours of hard training that it takes for young musicians to attain a certain level of professionalism, despite having heard horror stories of piano grade exams. I don't need the exams or certification, merely the ability to play and to enjoy the process.
My friend did not make it to the finals, although I sincerely thought his song was better than certain songs which did get through. He'll get over the disappointment, write better songs. Maybe one day, he'll finally sell one to an established singer and start his own career. Maybe one day, I will find the courage to take up lessons.
Filed under: Personal, Musings
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