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nwhikerMy husband is a pretty decent pianist. Not as good as Perry, but decent. A few years ago, he picked up the electric guitar, and well, let's just say that it's slower and he still plays the piano better. But I can hear the progress over the years, and he is getting better, so eh. Part of it is that playing the guitar requires some set up time whereas piano just required plunking his butt down in front of it.
We found a stash of music books a week or so ago, and I tried to persuade Perry to learn to play Annie Lenox's Into the West from Return of the King. (If I ever have a memorial service, hopefully I'll have mentioned to someone in my life that I'd like that played, kthxbai). I just love that song.
Perry hasn't played the piano in weeks, if not months, fucking video games, so no dice, but dh picked up the book and is starting to play it on the electric guitar.
It's so neat to listen to the melody, the song, start to come out of the notes. At first, it's not there, he's all over the place, but now, after only half hour or so, I can start to hear the music as it's meant to be. I love it.
Music is such a strange thing for me. I can hear some things, like if something is right, but I usually can't saw what is needed to fix it (by contrast, dh has perfect relative pitch, AC has perfect pitch, Perry hard to tell, but at least perfect relative pitch, and dh think Linnea may have perfect pitch as well. This is entirely his side of the gene pool, my family's musical genes would sink) Anyhow. One of my precious memories of my kids was when we were standing the (front) pew in a Catholic church in South Carolina for dh's grandma's memorial service. The singing started. AC and Perry picked up hymnals and started to, well, sing. Just by looking at the book. This still blows my mind. Perry tried to explain to me how it worked, that it was just like reading something in a foreign language. He truly doesn't understand that to me, that isn't the case. It's completely alien.
We found a stash of music books a week or so ago, and I tried to persuade Perry to learn to play Annie Lenox's Into the West from Return of the King. (If I ever have a memorial service, hopefully I'll have mentioned to someone in my life that I'd like that played, kthxbai). I just love that song.
Perry hasn't played the piano in weeks, if not months, fucking video games, so no dice, but dh picked up the book and is starting to play it on the electric guitar.
It's so neat to listen to the melody, the song, start to come out of the notes. At first, it's not there, he's all over the place, but now, after only half hour or so, I can start to hear the music as it's meant to be. I love it.
Music is such a strange thing for me. I can hear some things, like if something is right, but I usually can't saw what is needed to fix it (by contrast, dh has perfect relative pitch, AC has perfect pitch, Perry hard to tell, but at least perfect relative pitch, and dh think Linnea may have perfect pitch as well. This is entirely his side of the gene pool, my family's musical genes would sink) Anyhow. One of my precious memories of my kids was when we were standing the (front) pew in a Catholic church in South Carolina for dh's grandma's memorial service. The singing started. AC and Perry picked up hymnals and started to, well, sing. Just by looking at the book. This still blows my mind. Perry tried to explain to me how it worked, that it was just like reading something in a foreign language. He truly doesn't understand that to me, that isn't the case. It's completely alien.
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