The piano that is. Well actually this vintage 1967 Vox Jaguar organ that I can't seem to get out of my head. I'm a pretty fierce typist and for some reason in my demented little head I think that makes me a keen student for playing the piano. I can remember sitting at the old upright my mom had in the study playing (badly) the only two songs I knew (and still do) Lean on me and Hot cross buns (thanks to my 1st grade music teacher Mr. Cummings). Encouraged only by my mom's random comments of how perfect my slender fingers were for playing the piano, I had disillusions of grandeur and was always quickly frustrated when I couldn't play Bach's Minuet in G Major by the second day. Now a day's I apt for being appreciative of anyone who could play, seemly livening up a room by inducing random sing a-longs or just adding a bit of ambiance in the background by filling the house with the rich sounds of the keys. I think of it more and more lately, perhaps it has something to do with all the Dresden Dolls I've been listening to lately. Which is strange considering I play the drums, you'd think I'd be listening to Brian's machine gun stylings; but I've seemed to hone onto the wiles of Amanda's powerful key work and wondering just how she does it. Even though I know it impossible to be able to play on that level I still dream of being that girl who can sit down at a piano and pound out a song, any song all the way through perfectly and confidently, and one day I will. For now I guess the only keyboard I'll be tickling is on my laptop, and I'm okay with that. For now.
Wishing you all much love and music filled evenings from the land of madness.
XOXO-
M.M.
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