Key Change
It's definitely easier for me to dance while playing keyboards than the drum set.
I got to take full advantage of this mobility at our most recent gig with our Pretenders cover band, Pigeons from Hell. I don't mean "recent" to imply that we've had several gigs, as we just played our third. But getting to play for other people, and actually getting paid rather than having to pay to do it (even if we did each make only $20) still seems to be good to be true.
The day after our New Year's Day show (what a cool way to start out the year) I heard the NPR Radiolab episode on Bliss while I was driving around doing errands. "Bliss" is a pretty strong word, and not one I would normally even consider using, as it does not fit with my German-Lutheran sensibilities. If I step outside of mindset, though, and allow myself to consider the possibility that I can live in a world where bliss exists, then Friday's performance with the Pigeons (as well as some of my other musical and theatrical experiences) may come pretty darn close.
I mean, being on stage with a most amazing group of band mates and friends while my sexy husband sings about his pants being behind him?* Come on, if that's not bliss, what is?
Oh Mrs. Scutle, (I'm sure I'm misspelling her name) where are you now? Carole Scutle was my childhood piano teacher, and I'm not sure who would be more surprised, her or me, that I've become a keyboardist in a rock band (okay, very amateur keyboardist, but still). Believe it or not, I actually did take piano lessons for many, many years (at least six, maybe eight?), and although I never practiced very regularly or diligently, I still picked up a respectable amount of knowledge and skills. Sometimes, I wish Mrs. Scutle had been more of a task master so that I practiced more. She never yelled or got scary when I was clearly unprepared; she just look disappointed. She was a very nice lady and probably also realized, as my mom likely did, that if they tried to make me practice I would just get obstinate and quit.
It was very important to my mom that all her kids had music lessons, because it was something she said she always wanted and never had (besides a very limited run with the accordion). I think my mom's philosophy was that several years of half-assed piano playing was better than nothing, and I'm so grateful. Even though I'm frustrated by how much I've forgotten, I'm thankful that I can at least dust off enough knowledge to play a few chords.
You may be asking, gentle reader, why I am playing the keyboards at all, instead of drums. This plot twist stems from the origin of Pigeons From Hell as a Twin Town Guitars student band that already had a phenomenal drummer (the mighty and incomparable Chip) signed up. So yes, it was a little weird and hard to lay down my sticks, but I actually had been thinking it would be kind of fun to try something different, so it was a good opportunity. And while I have made great strides in playing drums and singing at the same time, I thought keyboards might give me more flexibility with singing.
Ah, singing. I won't take this post on too much of detour, but singing is full of so much drama for me. I love it, and if all the stars are aligned I can do all right, but let's just say it's really easy for me to get off track. Since I'm not willing (or sensible enough) to give up on it, I'm trying hard to just accept my limitations and sell it and have fun (especially when singing the rather disturbing and offensive and totally rocking "Night in My Veins."*)
So I'm on the keyboards, trying not to emulate Linda McCartney (either on keys or vocals) too much, and having a blast. Don't get me wrong...I've had to work my ass off and learn and re-learn a lot. Even if I was still at the height of my days of piano prowess with Mrs. Scutle, I would be challenged by playing with the Pigeons. Playing with other people always adds a level of challenge (and excitement) to the mix, and I rarely had to memorize music. Oh, and I never tried to play and dance at the same time.
But then again, when I was twelve, I didn't drink. Let me ring in the new year by raising a toast in honor of Mrs. Sculte (whatever plane of existence she may be on) and resolving to keep practicing and dancing and stepping up my keyboards game...and wondering what happened to Chad's pants.
*In a ploy to generate interest in future posts, I'll promise to explain these obscure references to Pretenders lyrics in another post...stay tuned!
I got to take full advantage of this mobility at our most recent gig with our Pretenders cover band, Pigeons from Hell. I don't mean "recent" to imply that we've had several gigs, as we just played our third. But getting to play for other people, and actually getting paid rather than having to pay to do it (even if we did each make only $20) still seems to be good to be true.
The day after our New Year's Day show (what a cool way to start out the year) I heard the NPR Radiolab episode on Bliss while I was driving around doing errands. "Bliss" is a pretty strong word, and not one I would normally even consider using, as it does not fit with my German-Lutheran sensibilities. If I step outside of mindset, though, and allow myself to consider the possibility that I can live in a world where bliss exists, then Friday's performance with the Pigeons (as well as some of my other musical and theatrical experiences) may come pretty darn close.
I mean, being on stage with a most amazing group of band mates and friends while my sexy husband sings about his pants being behind him?* Come on, if that's not bliss, what is?
Oh Mrs. Scutle, (I'm sure I'm misspelling her name) where are you now? Carole Scutle was my childhood piano teacher, and I'm not sure who would be more surprised, her or me, that I've become a keyboardist in a rock band (okay, very amateur keyboardist, but still). Believe it or not, I actually did take piano lessons for many, many years (at least six, maybe eight?), and although I never practiced very regularly or diligently, I still picked up a respectable amount of knowledge and skills. Sometimes, I wish Mrs. Scutle had been more of a task master so that I practiced more. She never yelled or got scary when I was clearly unprepared; she just look disappointed. She was a very nice lady and probably also realized, as my mom likely did, that if they tried to make me practice I would just get obstinate and quit.
It was very important to my mom that all her kids had music lessons, because it was something she said she always wanted and never had (besides a very limited run with the accordion). I think my mom's philosophy was that several years of half-assed piano playing was better than nothing, and I'm so grateful. Even though I'm frustrated by how much I've forgotten, I'm thankful that I can at least dust off enough knowledge to play a few chords.
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| Don't Get Me Wrong... I really do know how to play this thing. |
Ah, singing. I won't take this post on too much of detour, but singing is full of so much drama for me. I love it, and if all the stars are aligned I can do all right, but let's just say it's really easy for me to get off track. Since I'm not willing (or sensible enough) to give up on it, I'm trying hard to just accept my limitations and sell it and have fun (especially when singing the rather disturbing and offensive and totally rocking "Night in My Veins."*)
So I'm on the keyboards, trying not to emulate Linda McCartney (either on keys or vocals) too much, and having a blast. Don't get me wrong...I've had to work my ass off and learn and re-learn a lot. Even if I was still at the height of my days of piano prowess with Mrs. Scutle, I would be challenged by playing with the Pigeons. Playing with other people always adds a level of challenge (and excitement) to the mix, and I rarely had to memorize music. Oh, and I never tried to play and dance at the same time.
But then again, when I was twelve, I didn't drink. Let me ring in the new year by raising a toast in honor of Mrs. Sculte (whatever plane of existence she may be on) and resolving to keep practicing and dancing and stepping up my keyboards game...and wondering what happened to Chad's pants.
*In a ploy to generate interest in future posts, I'll promise to explain these obscure references to Pretenders lyrics in another post...stay tuned!
I'm sorry we missed your show! Happy New Year!
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