What WIll I Think of Next?
November 21 2009

Often they ask: What do you think about when you're playing?

A curious question.

Do they ask lawyers: What do you think about when you're making submissions in court?

Do they ask dentists: What do you think about when you're drilling?

Do they ask tailpipe expander assembly workers: What do you think about when you're tailpipe expander assembling?

The Pianobabbler can understand the question's provenance. Looking at a pianist playing, one sees only a seated carcass pressing black and white buttons. The carcass may be gazing intently at a score. Or be shaking in corporal bliss. Yet it is pushing buttons.

The listening mind naturally asks: How can divine music emerge from so mundane a physical gesture? (It reminds the Pianobabbler of Jon Hendricks' comment that the godly Art Tatum looked like an accountant when he played piano.)

Which naturally leads to the question I mentioned at the outset: What do you think about when you're playing?

What does the Pianobabbler think about when he's playing?

The music's beauty? Intensity? Virtuosity? The Joy? The jump? The zaza? The hotcha?

No. Alas, no. The mythic image of the music-maker in an altered state of bliss- Glenn Gould called it ex-centricity -does not operate here.

Reality, as reality often does, paints a less romantic tableau. Do we have enough soy milk for tomorrow? That couple looks miserable. Did I turn off my cell phone? My foot is itchy.

And that old favourite: What should I play next?

Music's outer nobility belies its mundane innards. Don't let that disappoint you. The primitive always underlies the transcendent. High art often has low origins. Even the Queen has dirty underwear.

So, next time you're at a Pianobabbler, or any, concert, don't sweat the inner processes. Have no concern for the operating system. You don't really want to know. Just sit back, and enjoy the music.

Meanwhile, I think I have to go buy soy milk for tomorrow.

The Pianobabbler has babbled.

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