A few days ago we were sitting in the living room watching some movie or other and I was humming along and tapping my feet to a piece of classical music on the soundtrack. Noticing this, Andy G commented that he’d forgotten that I have a thing for the classical which is true, I do, except I’m also incredibly ignorant, which is why I never mention it. Here’s the story…
I was brought up in a predominately classical household. My mum is a classically trained singer, my step-dad was a conductor of orchestras and my sister is an accomplished violinist. There’s a shocking amount of classical music in the house, both recorded and in sheet music form. It’s not an obsessive presence by any means, but it’s certainly there. In short, there was always a piano in the house when I was a kid and it was always in use but the only rock or pop music was some Beatles singles from my mum’s childhood and whatever I’d accumulated in my vacuum. Mainly Queen as it happens.
During secondary school I played the trombone, which while a potentially great instrument isn’t exactly cool. Well, it’s cool compared with the French horn or the cello but it ain’t no electric guitar. I did my stints in the local school orchestras and the like but when I moved onto 6th form the trombone went into the attic where it still lives to this day, not having much of a resale value when I’d finished with it.
And since then I’ve never developed any musical talent for some reason even though it’s all sitting there in my brain. I have a good musical ear, a reasonable sense of rhythm and can even sing fairly well thanks to my genes but I ain’t done nothing with it. If there’s a reason it’s probably the same as my mental block on learning languages (mum’s also a retired language teacher and sister did a German degree) or why I’m not a geologist like my dad. It’s all down to some stubborn teenage rebellion in my subconscious whereby I reject the talents of my parents in a half-arsed determination to forge my own way, whatever that may be. With music this meant rejecting the prescribed dogma of an orchestral score in favour of random dissonant noise, taking pleasure in happy accidents rather than perfect reconstructions. Well, that’s one explanation anyway. It could just be that I’m scared of the potential for failure when perusing perfection or some shit, but that’s getting a little too close to psychoanalysis so I’ll move on.
But despite rejecting this classical background I do have a latent appreciation for it and even the vestiges of critical capabilities. It’s quite possible that because the essence of the classical is deep inside me, when combined with my ignorance of the accepted rights and wrongs I could be quite a powerful force, cutting through the bullshit and slaying sacred cows left and right, but I’ll never know because it’s quite a steep learning curve and I can’t really be bothered
So I have this appreciation of the whole thing and I should really make the most of it, for the entertainment value if nothing else. If you’ve never heard a full orchestra perform a storming symphony in a hall with decent acoustics then you’ve never lived. The power of 100-odd instruments working in perfect harmony with each other is the ultimate gestalt wall of sound. My sister, having gotten over two years of intensive baby production, is taking part in a concert in Banbury on November 19th and I’m popping along for it. “Tschaik 4th, some Rossini and Liszt” she says and I have no idea what that means but I’m sure it’ll kick arse. I think the last time I saw her play was in Leeds in 1995, which is rather tragic of me.
I’ve also been looking into the various recitals and performances put on by the local Quakers in Bournville and shall report on my findings…