I Struck A Chord

 

photo credit: photos-public-domain.com

Now, where was I?  Oh right, I was telling you about how
I started playing the piano, and how I ended up learning to play the organ instead so I can assume the role of the “so-called official music accompanist” for our parish church. 

 

But before I proceed, I just want to say this:  If there is one good advise I can give for anyone who have any musical dreams: do not learn to play the piano by studying the chords!  Unless you are a musical genius, stick to the effing F clef before doing the shortcut version or the idiot’s way of playing music. 

Because what happened to me after discovering the magic of the chords was losing all skills on my left hand and ending up relying heavily on the chords.   Which, for me, was a very bad idea. 

 

Playing the organ always looks cool and complicated: one has to learn how to use two separate keyboards-upper and lower; a foot pedal on the left and volume control on the right foot.  Then there are the multiple buttons and knobs to change the sound, add different beats plus throw in some synthesizers and eventually change the actual sound of that singular instrument, then voila! You can deceive a listener and create an illusion of a whole symphony.  But in reality, you are just a one-man band who knows how to press the right buttons at a specific space in time.  On face value, it looks hip and intimidating.  But in reality, it is quite simple and basic, if you just practice.  The buttons and the changing of sounds just make it look phenomenal.  If you take away all of these cool features- it is just playing the notes on your right hand, and the chords on your left.  Basic. 

 

When I was still learning the piano, some of my classmates from grade school had also been enrolled in a music or piano school where they actually went to a class and performed at recitals.  Since I was tutored privately and did not have the luxury of having to go to an actual sit-down lesson like in a school setting- I never got to experience the feeling of going to recitals- dressing up nice, performing on a stage with a bad-ass number, had my picture taken after the performance then show it off to my other classmates on the next school day.  I always envied my friends for having the bragging rights of showcasing their skills in music and then immortalizing it in a photograph. 

My recital was in front of my piano teacher- in my dirty house clothes and flip flops- still sweaty from running outside because I was interrupted with my play-time.  The trick in acing the recital was to avoid any errors in one musical execution.  That was a recital for me. No fancy-schmanzy production numbers and rituals pre and post- performance. 

But now that I look back, I think compared from my other classmates who took to these piano classes in an actual music school, I was the only one who stuck to playing and got far in the music world.  I actually got to play for the local church, “perform” for other churches in different towns, and at one point got nationally televised.  But before I got there, I had to endure thousands of hours of practice and experience, plus the emotional toll involved in being a part of the choir and the never-ending lessons I had to withstand before I could play my ultimate musical church song- Ang Pasko ay Sumapit.  Damn that song.  So fast. 

 

When I reached the Third Grade level of my piano lessons, everyone thought I was ready to tackle the big gun- meaning the church organ.  I was eager to take on the challenge. 

Since my aunt/piano teacher did not play church songs and did not know how to play the organ, she conceded the task to her friend from another town who happened to be the principal accompanist of their local parish church. 

I was excited for my first lesson. 

 

Her goal was to make me play for the church as fast as I could and it did not matter to her if she was breaking a few musical rules here and there as long as we would reach that target in the shortest possible time.    

She literally asked me to throw out in the window all the teachings of my previous piano teacher.  The number one musical offense that she did was get rid of the notes.  She did not believe in ledger lines, measures, G clefs, time signatures and the likes.  She only believed in song lyrics and chords. 

 

She advised me to get a big notebook and start writing lyrics of church songs in order of their appearance during a Sunday service.  And from there, I would write the notes of every song that correspond to the syllable, but not in actual notes-since we discarded the ledger line.  We wrote everything in literal words- like so, do, la, fa, mi, do re, and then added chords unto it.  This was when I started questioning her teaching skills.  At least in music. 

I am not trying to smear the reputation of my second music teacher here.  She was great at simplifying things and I learned immensely from her.  However, it stirred me to a different path in music- the fast and easy track with less complications. 

Believe me, she was a very good teacher because I was able to play the organ in the shortest amount of time.  I think she did this technique to hasten my ability to play for the church, because we were in a time crunch.  I was scheduled to replace the accompanist in a year or two because he would move on to study in the city. 

 

I think it only took one whole summer then a couple Saturdays before I could debut my big church performance.  If I remember right, the first song I played was “Holy, Holy”, which was a traditional hymn before the consecration of the eucharist.  It was a disaster.  The choir was barely able to catch up to my accompaniment.  My right foot was shaking due to my nerves, so the foot pedal that controlled the volume of the organ was going into crescendo and decrescendo the entire time.  But kudos to the choir, they stuck to me.  They had no choice but to tolerate my insecurity, immaturity and my second-fiddle skill at playing music.  I eventually completed a whole repertoire of a Sunday Service and slowly added songs into my personal music library, so the notebook started to get thick. 

 

Eventually, when one of the original accompanist learned that I am playing from a pretend-music sheet, he discouraged me of that habit.  Well, that was mildly putting it.  He mocked my personal file and sneered at the ridiculousness of it all.  He was strict and I was dead-scared of him.  If I was not good at Kegel’s, I would have wet my pants. 

 

Eventually, I had to practice reading notes again and play the organ at the same time.  I did not realize that it would be possible to look at a music score and play immediately without practicing at all but I made it to that skill level.  But the caveat was, I was cheating by playing the chords.  Once you are used to it, you cannot unlearn it, unless you are a music genius, which I am not. 

 

So there.  I became the unofficial accompanist of the parish.  I say unofficial because I did not embrace the title wholeheartedly.  My relationship with the choir was very volatile and complicated.  I must admit that I was a brat for being the organist.  Like what I said, I was immature and insecure.  These two were very dangerous combination for someone whose role was vital to an organization.  So I was like their middle school-aged son who did not talk too much and gave them so much attitude (eyes rolling, breath mumbling, feet stomping) and difficulty throughout a very long process of singing for god.

But I had my reasons.  And I was triggered. 

 

Everything is now all water under the bridge since I reverted to losing my higher level of skill in playing the organ.  I can barely play a whole song without me cursing how difficult the piece is even though it has been simplified for me. 

 

I still miss those days when I used to play the organ.  I was also fortunate enough to accompany a service by playing a very intimidating pipe organ where if would drown a whole choir in their singing and all you hear was the triumphant ringing of that powerful instrument.  I think I came out deaf after the recessional song. 

And because I was once very prolific at different services at church, I developed tendinitis on my right thumb which required me to wear a brace for a few months.   But did this not stop me from playing, I still played while wearing that brace. 

 

However, I knew then that I would not be the greatest at being the music accompanist.  And never will be.  Because in my mind, I have already assigned myself to be the second-fiddle to the true organist of our church. I was the longest substitute in the history of the choir until they found the music god that they were waiting for.   

And now, that is a story for another day. 

 

August 2, 2020

Copyright December 2021