It eventually became the custom that at the age of thirteen, each child would play his or her single piece of music at a glorious recital that would be attended by family and friends. Plans for the recital (and the banquet that would follow) began years before the child knew how to locate Middle C, or had ever heard of Bach, Beethoven or Brahms. The day of the recital was filled with tension and anxiety, lest the child not "perform" up to capacity. It became increasingly obvious that many of those who attended these recitals did not have the slightest idea of how to act or what to expect. They had become, in short, a musically illiterate folk.
Many of those in attendance would recall their own recitals, and realize that it was really the last time they had ever played Piano, attended the Odeon, or devoted themselves to music. Some would remember their parents and grandparents, and how they devoted their lives to the pursuit of Piano and music. But these children -" the ones who played the single recital piece -" were different. Despite the fact that they might play their single piece with ability and skill, they were incapable of reading the musical score or recognizing its worth. Moreover, few, if any, had the true love of music, which the Muse had long ago commanded. True to form, few would ever play Piano after their recital. This new generation merely went through the motions without much feeling or understanding. What they did understand, was that after the recital, they would receive gifts of money. After the performance, the family would throw a magnificent banquet that would last until all hours of the night. Quite often these festivities cost far more than the family could truly afford.
The elders grew fearful. "How silly it is to spent all that time and money just to teach our children a single piece of music," they said. "And for what? For the sake of a single recital and a great feast? It is a tragedy. Our children no long truly know how to play Piano, speak "P'santayr," or have that great love and devotion to music which has always been our heritage. Where will it all end?"
But the elders came to realize that they were, at least in part, to blame. They were the ones who took to speaking "P'santayr" only when they did not wish their children to understand. Then too, they were the ones who let the very culture of Piano slowly slip through their fingers, preferring instead the ways of their non-Pianist neighbors.
Fortunately, the elders, working in consonance with their children and grandchildren, came up with a solution that not only solved their growing problem, but actually caused a musical renaissance among the Pianists. In short, they . . .
( A t this point, the manuscript suddenly ended , leaving posterity to ponder just wh at the solution was . . .)
-2011 Kurt F. Stone
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
2
2
1
