I don't get to have a lot of conversations around classical music, anymore. Well, to be honest, I never had that much conversation about it with anyone else in recent memory than L., and those were mostly fueled by our season subscriptions to the two orchestras near us (one world renowned; the other, a very well respected training orchestra that has, among other things, trained players for the world renowned one).
Even in my family, classical music was one of those things that only certain members of the family ever actually talked about, and they were the ones who were actual musicians. One is my aunt's husband--a classical violinist and also a specialist in training young musicians (very young musicians. His method, which is well recognized in Germany and other neighboring countries, concentrates on children aged 3-8). As a result, his family, which includes my classically trained cousin who plays both piano and violin at a virtuoso level, and her son, who is trained in violin and is starting piano, are well acquainted with classical music, the composers, the players, the conductors. The other is my uncle's wife, who is also a classical trained pianist and in addition to having been a very successful concert pianist back home before the revolution, has been teaching for several decades. Her students included her own two sons, who are enormously talented and musically inclined. My uncle, although never trained, is also a very good, self-taught violinist.
Oh, and my uncle's wife also had another member of the family as a student, for a while. Me.
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I have not touched the piano, to play in form that constitutes real playing, in 18 years. That would coincide with the year I graduated high school, left home for a few months travel and then college--and also with the year I finally decided to let my father know once and for all that I had no desire to ever pursue being a pianist as a career. In true, spectacular J_____ family fashion, I had to go overboard and actually refrain from playing a note for several years.
My father warned me I would regret it someday. He was right. Not about opting to pursue something other than playing the piano, but about how the only person I'd end up hurting with my immature, in your face gesture would be myself. He knew what he spoke of; he'd thrown away 7 years of his life on a grand gesture himself and it wasn't until he was in his mid-twenties that he realized the same truth he was trying to impart to me.
In true, spectacular J_____ family fashion, I had to dismiss a lesson learned by my own father as completely in inapplicable to me...until I finally had to learn it myself.
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The story of the how and why and when related to my musical career that never took off isn't of concern here, though. What is, is one of the things that led to that story being played, something that was never in my control and was just one of those things you are either mostly born with or you are not (though it can be cultivated to some extent): I apparently have perfect pitch.
All my music teachers have insisted that I do; I was never officially tested for it, though they did each test me in the typical do-it-yourself ways people in the know usually use. I never though it relevant to my playing and, in general, to me, at any rate. Except when it came to enjoying classical music, and live classical music at that. It helps me appreciate that music on a level that is both delightful and infuriating. If there is an off-note I am sure to catch it, no matter how subtle or drowned it might be in the overall presentation. At the same time, when a piece hits that sweet spot with unerring accuracy? I don't think I am lying when I say my soul thrills to the perfection of the notes my ears are hearing.
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This is why I miss not talking music with someone, even on a semi-regular basis. Because if I did, invariably, the question would come up: who is your favorite conductor? And while I would rattle off some of the well known (Toscanini) with some of the controversial (Eschenbach), I'd end with the one name that would make the person I'm talking get a "Whaaa...?" look on their face, while they struggled to reconcile the name to a memory of a song and then ask incredulously, "The 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' guy?!"
Yes, him. If you've never seen Bobby Mcferrin conduct or perform (or really conduct adn perform simultaneously) in a classical capacity, I pity you. More than all the elite (and often snobby) classical performers and conductors, the man knows what it is like to play music. To be music. To sing music.
And he has perfect pitch, as far as I can tell.
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Bobby Mcferrin likes to pull the Ava Maria 'trick', so to speak, in most of his concerts. Not because it is a cheap shot, I think, but because it really gets the concert goers, from the stuffy, etiquette policing patrons to the poor but delighted student ticket holders to the anxious first timers involved in the joy that is making music.
My personal favorite piece by him is his version of Faure's Pavane (Op. 50) which we saw live and was...god, breathtaking. It's available both on his Paper Music CD--and as an individual download by purchase, although it is far more dramatic watching him conduct/sing in person (and he got more involved vocally when we saw him). Get it, anyway. The piece is lovely to begin with, he really does a great job of conducting (love his chosen tempo and placement of instruments), and he interjects with his voice as well, of course. I can't listen to anyone else's Pavane, anymore, without having a pang for the one we saw him do.
Update: I didn't really think of saying this because, really, who else is reading this but me, anyway? On the off chance some one does come across this, though, do yourself another favor and look him up on youtube and checkout some of his other pieces, where his amazing range, breath control, and general music terrificness is even more evident.
