Music and Me

Piano


One of my earliest memories is my mother playing the Moonlight Sonata for me before I went to bed. At some point, I asked her, "How do you do that?" She showed me the sheet music and explained that each note represented a key on the piano. Over time, I was able to work out the notes by ear to teach myself how to read the sheet music to play this piece. Once I accomplished this feat, playing the piano became my first true love.

Much of my youth was spent listening to classical works then learning to play them on the piano. I soon graduated to the use of sheet music alone, investing in new music books and immersing myself for hours mastering various pieces, including favorites from Beethoven, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, DeBussy, Joplin, Gershwin and the Kuhlau Sonatinas. As a teen, I branched out to include other genres, with special affinity for Elton John, SuperTramp and Billy Joel, and I learned to provide accompaniment for my singing.

My piano playing has always been limited by the absence of proper training and music theory. There were some vain attempts at lessons. While in High School, my brother, the family sanctioned musician, convinced my mother that I should get lessons. The old woman, who was engaged to be my piano teacher, started things off with, "Now this is middle C", to which I responded, "Want to hear me play the Waldstein Sonata?" Not exactly a good fit. In college, I went through about 4 or 5 piano majors, who all reported that they did not know how to teach me because I was missing basic skills, yet in some ways my playing was more advanced than theirs. I have yet to solve this problem, although I was never destined to be a concert pianist, despite early dreams.

Voice

I was blessed with a better than average voice with tonally distinct ranges - a lusty lower range and a clear higher range, with incredible resonance, meaning my voice carries - true for both talking and singing. As a young girl, I loved Barbra Streisand. I bought all of her albums and learned every one of her songs, just as she sang them. I enjoyed popular music at the time, but Babs gave me a challenge and a work out, using the full range of my voice. My other singing preferences included spirituals, standards and show tunes.

What I loved most about singing was the translation of emotion into music using my voice. I could tap into my feeling universe and transform this into meaningful sound. And, I simply love how it feels in my body while I am singing. It is at once emotional release, vocal exercise and soulful meditation. Singing is equally about the music, as it is about the feeling.

I sang in school choirs, singing every part from first soprano to second alto, depending on the song and the need for vocal balance. I ultimately learned control, largely through my embarrassment of being told repeatedly that I sang too loud. In my late teens, I discovered that my singing might be good after securing a few leads in community theatre and landing a gig to sing backup vocals for recording sessions.

The best gift within my musical existence was the offer of private voice lessons in college by Dr. Thoburn, the Music Chair. My singing mates provided the needed push to accept, as I never had any intention of taking voice lessons. They convinced me that Dr. Thoburn was impressed with my vocal abilities and I could not turn him down. He reportedly chose his students, turning down several voice majors, and he NEVER worked with people outside of the music program. This was quite an honor, and an invaluable experience that meant the world to me.

Dr. Thoburn spent a lot of time working with me to forget everything anyone ever told me about singing too loud (a.k.a. releasing my throat) and to convince me that, even though my voice was not soft and sweet, it was a formidable instrument (a.k.a. learning to project and to breathe). I learned about voice as an instrument, not about singing. This was incredibly cool to me. To this day, I retain tremendous appreciation for those who use their voice as an instrument over those who merely sing.

After college, I sang in some women’s groups and for various church events, offering solo performances for the first time in my life. People enjoyed hearing me sing, but I did not like singing solos and being on stage. I could do the plays, the recording studio and the choral groups, but I felt way too exposed singing on my own in front of people. I was big on voice and low in performance ability. I continue to work on this, periodically providing solo performances to friendly audiences and sneaking out to karaoke bars unbeknownst to my friends - the secret singing life of Lax.

Song

Songwriting is where these two loves fuse into something even more inspiring and amazing to me. I cannot explain exactly how songwriting happens, as it is not a trained thing, but a sensing of something within me that needs to get out. This something is based in a feeling, which has music and words attached to it. Sometimes it starts with the music and other times it begins with the words. Sometimes it is free flowing and easy, where I generate full lyrics and/or score in one sitting, and other times it is more of a protracted process, where I struggle to lay vent to a persistent haunting. Sometimes there are germs that persist for months, but are not quite ready to emerge. Then there are the partials that have a tune and lyrics but require an instrument other than the piano or musical abilities greater than mine to bring them to their full life. I have yet to solve this problem, but I have learned to keep a song journal to track the germs and the partials.

When I finish a song, it is wholly satisfying with an absolute sense of relief, usually requiring sleep. The supreme gratification is coming back to the song to simply relax into the playing and singing of a creation that was born from me. If I had to name it, I would call it “deep listening”. And, at this risk of sounding entirely hokey, this truly soothes my soul.

I have no clue if what I write is “good” or if my songs would offer any enjoyment or meaning to anyone outside of me, because I still struggle with that performance thing. Where singing solos left me feeling too exposed, performing my own works feels akin to turning my being inside out for all to see. I am not sure how other singer/songwriters do it. I am clearly missing that diva chromosome, with no desire to be a star.

I keep my love of music and my creations to myself – it’s a private thing. I wonder if this is a coward’s excuse, a missed opportunity. As I get older, this all presses in on me. I would like to muster up the ability to perform my songs. I feel more compelled to share my songs as a means of expression for the many layers of self that remain concealed. The weird part is that I maintain a routine practice of not limiting myself due to fear, yet I realize this particular fear rules me. Perhaps it makes sense to walk through the performance anxiety and just do it. Let the world have its say – risk exposure, risk failure.

Within this blog, I take the first step, announcing to the world that I love music. It lives within my core and throughout every fiber of my being. I play the piano, I sing and I write songs. I am most content and at peace playing music on my own. I will move out of this private music space by sharing music that speaks to me. That’s a start.

I aspire to one day share my songs, in some form. It makes sense to begin by sharing lyrics, so I will create a placeholder called “My Songs”. A few dear friends consistently encourage me with gentle persuasion to record. Once I cross this hurdle, I will use this space to provide links. And, one day, I will perform.

You are invited to help me on this path, with permission to pester me.