Mrs Jones and the Magic Land

Being a minister’s daughter carries many obligations. One of these was the ability to play the piano and organ. Who ever heard of a minister’s daughter who could not graciously step in and take over when the organist was absent?

With this in mind my parents engaged the services of a local lady, Mrs Jones, to teach me the piano when I was eight years old. At my first lesson Mrs Jones played a few notes on her piano. Each note had a clear, ringing tone which surprised me as our old piano at home gave a flattish thud with each note played.

Mrs Jones taught from a book called The Magic Land of Music and together we explored this magic land. Within a few days I had mastered “Hot Cross Buns” and proudly played it for my parents. The next piece I learned was “Three Blind Mice” and I think that my parents could see a future me seated at a Steinway on a stage in a crowded concert hall.

Mrs Jones had a constant sniff, not surprising in a cold climate, and it seemed that she sniffed in rhythm. A waltz sounded like: One, two, sniff, one, two, three, one, two, sniff. I hardly needed a metronome.

Before long I was introduced to C Major Scale; eight white keys from one C up to the next C. Having gone up and then down the scale, I heard Mrs Jones give a large sniff. She had politely waited till I finished the scale.

Playing a scale on the white keys was easy but soon Mrs Jones introduced G Major Scale. This scale had one black key, F Sharp, which I managed, but before long I had to learn scales with two, then three, then four black keys. This was difficult enough but there came a time when I had to learn things called flats. These were black keys played one semitone of the left of the white key.

You started off with one flat: B flat. But then you had to learn to play scales with two flats, three flats, four flats.

Dear reader, if you are confused, imagine a nine year-old attempting all of the aforementioned.

It must have taken three years for my parents to come to the realisation that I had no talent whatsoever. Neither of my parents were musical and would not have known the difference between the “Warsaw Concerto” and “Yes, We Have no Bananas”. I had inherited their lack of music but they and I stubbornly continued with the lessons. Because I was not naturally musical, I did not realise how dreadful I sounded so I plodded on.

This realisation came late because I happened to be a good scholar and had no trouble with theory. I could memorise strings of words such as crescendo, diminuendo, cantabile and allegro. I could learn quickly the principles of rhythm even though my difficulty came with applying those principles. Eventually, when I reached the early teens, my parents, Mrs Jones and I all agreed that I should give up. As a minister’s daughter I was a failure.

I did not completely give up. I loved to buy sheet music of popular songs and I played them to amuse myself. One of my aunties was not amused; she accused me of playing “nothing but those rubbish songs”. I did not confess to her that I secretly loved jazz, swing and all things modern.

In time my piano playing dwindled as I turned what talents I had to other pursuits.

Why then is it that I have a love of listening to music? How can a person who is tone deaf and basically untalented have a love of music? Some of my favourite pieces are on CD and I play them in the car.

One of my favourites is the hurrying busyness of Handel’s “The Entry of the Queen of Sheba”. When I hear it I imagine acrobats, dancing girls and prancing ponies in a joyful parade. I could swoon at the sound of Schuman’s “Traumerei” (Dedication) and the wistful beauty of the “Hebrew Slaves’ Chorus” almost has me in tears.

Music can be fun. I cannot hear “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” without thinking of Mickey Mouse in the Disney film “Fantasia”. The dainty dance of the little swans from “Swan Lake” always sounds playful to me. I find great joy in the dances from “The Nutcracker Suite” and am surprised that Tchaikovsky himself detested the whole suite.

The reason for loving music is really nothing to do with my talent or lack of it. It is the sheer genius of the composers. At the sound of any of the great classics I am transported into another world.

As well as the skill of the composers there is the fact that music expresses all emotions. Love, hate, anger, patriotism, sorrow can all be heard in all music.

It is the power of music that transports and it was dear Mrs Jones with her little sniff who introduced me to that magic land.

Have you ever learnt an instrument? Which one? What is your favourite piece to play on it?