I got started in music at a very young age. Music must have been alive in my family long before my birth. I may have been about four, three or younger when I began banging on every surface in sight. The sound of each surface varied with its timbre.
I grew up in a home where droves of people continually traveled in and out because there was always a “Dutch party” at the house. They were often planning, playing, joking, laughing and eating. One of my uncles was actively involved with a Steeldrum Orchestra while another uncle and one of my aunts were members of a dance company. There was an old piano sitting invitingly in the living room. A picture of a female vocalist, whose name I never knew, hung over the piano . My father was living in England at the time and sent us a copy of his vocal recording, “The nearnest of you” and “If I could help somebody”.
My uncle that was involved with the steeldrum would bring one of the instruments to the house and have me learn to play simple songs by rote. On occasion, he took me to the “pan yard” where I had to remain until he was finished with his activities. Like a sponge, I soaked up the sounds of the steeldrum and the entire environment. Whenever my uncle felt that I had learned a song on the instrument well enough, he would invite friends for a concert. Needless to say, they were very generous with their appreciation in spite of the performances.
My dancing aunt and uncle encouraged me to dance but I was too mesmerized by the drums and the drummer. It seemed pointless dancing without the infectious rhythm and energy that leaped from the drum and its drummer. I always focused my attention on the sound of the drum and the rhythm. The drummer had to possess unique memory, talent and technical ability in order to apply the appropriate rhythmic phrases and dynamics to the various body movements. He always appeared to be in a trance and experiencing bliss when he played his drum. I have witnessed many drummers perform with such intensity that blood dripped from their hands like perspiration - never flinching, never grimacing.
I learned to play two songs with my two index fingers on the piano that sat in the living room under the framed photo of the smiling female vocalist. The songs were “Bits of paper” and “Hot cross buns”. That was the extent of my piano repertoire until the piano was removed and destroyed. In the meantime, I dreamt of joining my father in England to perform and perfect my musical ambitions.
I got started in music at home…. looking, listening, imitating, practicing and performing!
click on the icon to listen
