Who put these #%& snakes in the #%$ piano?
Posted by keithosaunders on March 6, 2016
Folks it’s the end of the weekend and I’m all Trumped out so I’m giving that topic a rest for the time being.
As a freelance musician my office changes from night to night. More importantly my work station, that is to say my piano, also changes. Every once in a while I get a beautiful instrument; for instance, a seven foot Steinway with great action and a beautiful tone. This makes my job so much easier — it’s like driving a Lexus versus a Yugo. (Full disclosure, I’ve never driven either)
Most of the time I’m stuck with a dog, or at best a dowager. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. A lousy piano takes preference over me having to schlep my keyboard, even though my keyboard remains in tune in perpetuity. At this point my back’s comfort takes preference over my ear’s.
I pride myself as being the kind of pianist who can make any instrument, no matter how bad, sound good. I almost never complain about the piano because what’s the point? If I don’t like it I should shut up and bring my keyboard.
There are times when I’m playing a solo, the music is groovin,’ I’m working through dense lines, building up energy – I’m in a good mood, almost a state of euphoria – when BAM I hit a high G that sounds like a cat in heat.
It’s like I’m the lead in a movie starring opposite Marilyn Monroe when all of a sudden her character gets killed off and replaced with another love-interest…played by Irene Ryan, the actress who played Granny in the Beverly Hillbillys.
It’s times like those that I feel like Samuel L. Jackson: “I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THESE MOTHERFUCKIN’ OUT OF TUNE NOTES ON THIS MOTHERFUCKIN’ PIANO.”