This essay, essentially a eulogy for my piano, was published on February 23, 2022 in The Globe and Mail First Person section under their title “Goodbye old piano, it’s time for me to play another tune now”. It captures my lifelong love/hate relationship with our Irmbach piano (and piano playing in general). Despite being recognized for my talent, being a pianist was a perceived obligation that I was happy to shrug off when I became old enough to carve out my own freedom.
The illustration shown here was created by Alison Farrer and captures a young me playing a duet with an old(er) me seated at the Irmbach. In addition to writing their own titles, The Globe and Mail also supplies their own illustration for publication. I’m happy that an illustrator got some work, and their interpretation is lovely, but, c’mon… Alison’s is better.
Ps. If you do read the story, I can report the happy conclusion that the new owner of our house asked to keep the piano… he’d read about my dilemma in the Globe and like a knight in shining armor, rode in as if he were Liberace on a gilded white stallion! Many happy tears were spilled.
Here is an excerpt:
I must confess there was also love on that piano bench. There were times when I could feel the music ring through me. I could feel it vibrate through my fingers and I knew the power of bending time along the crest of a note to create drama or suspense, heartbreak or humour.
I experienced a sense of community through playing duets with a friend, accompanying church choirs, witnessing wedding marches and anniversary singing performances of The Rose. It felt particularly pleasurable when articulating the crisp precision of Bach, Handel, or Haydn; as I was always drawn to the clarity of the Baroque masters rather than the messy Romantics (so many notes; who has hands that big?). And the swell of recognition was sweetest when I would channel the music properly and perform something that I could tell landed on my audience with the soft acknowledgement of the profound that music can deliver.
3 Responses
I loved doing the art for this one - the imagery of the beam of light at the church recital struck me so deep the first time I read it. All my memories of watching Mom play the piano at Christmas are awash in golden light, this poem encapsulates that feeling perfectly.
I recently came across your Globe and Mail essay while researching my Irmbach upright piano. My parents bought ours in the 1970s in a Yorkton, Saskatchewan music store and I am very curious about how a piano made in the USSR ended up there. Its not a particularly good piano. It doesn’t tune well. It doesn’t have a great feel - the keys are stiff. And yet I moved it to Gatineau, Quebec with me 18 years ago and it sits neglected in my living room. It doesn’t even have a matching bench. So I felt compelled to reach out to the only other member of the Irmbach upright piano curiosity community I have ever met and say hello.
I love that we are in an Irmbach upright piano curiosity community. Probably a very small membership! Unfortunately I have no further information, our family bought it second hand, so I have no idea how it made it to Vancouver Island. Thanks for reaching out.