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No Notes, Please

A violin student came into my studio for a lesson on singing and listening.

“I can’t sing.”  He said sheepishly.

“Of course you can.”  I said.  “Sing with me.”

We matched pitches, going up and down the scale.  His voice was shaky at first, but soon he was able to hold a note for a few seconds and hop up and down small intervals.  A big smile spread across his face.

He didn’t know about the major musical periods.  When I began to explain he took out his notebook and started writing.

“No notes, please.”  I said.  “Just listen.”

He was not used to doing that, and felt uncomfortable.  He was a good student.

I played him examples:  Bach, Mozart, Chopin, Gershwin.  We talked about musical lines that run horizontally and chords that move a piece of music vertically.  He asked questions now, of things he didn’t understand.

At the end of the lesson he didn’t want to leave.  A good student.  I look forward to seeing him next week.

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Our Daily Listening

From the moment of waking my ears are actively decoding.  It is second nature, and I don’t think about it unless there is a change in the ambiance—like rain pattering on the window, or birds making extra noise, or complete silence, which can be quite startling.  I am most conscious of listening when learning Arabic.  It is a language that fascinates me.  How much listening does it take before the brain acknowledges and stores the information?  I’m sure it has to do with intention and individual ability.  After several years of on and off lessons, I retain very little and often blank out whenever I am given an opportunity to practice.  Besides listening to a series of lesson tapes, I have developed a habit of going to BBC Radio Arabic on the internet.  At times I hear a word or two that I have studied.  The rest is incomprehensible.  It is disappointing but it’s the best I can do for now.

My father’s hearing began to decline after a stoke over fifteen years ago.  He used to practice on the cello every day, go to concerts, and listen to the classical music station first thing in the morning.  Now completely deaf, I find him sitting in front of the TV watching in silence Yo Yo Ma in concert or Michael Tilson Thomas conducting the San Francisco symphony.  Perhaps he is reminiscing.  Perhaps in his mind he hears the music, that which he had stored from years of daily listening.

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