is it normal to want to perform? did everyone jump out behind curtains dancing to ABBA in front of their parents friends? is it strange to put your hand up at work to present a power point in front of 100 people just so you can stand up on a stage? to hold attention of the masses, all eyes on you, under the spotlight, name in lights!! – or is it just me?
some people like to play an instrument. i like to perform an instrument. fly along a piano like Billy Joel, wail on riff like Eric Clapton, belt it out like Van the Man and throw down a sax solo like Michael Bolton? i have a musical performance part of my soul that is desperate to express itself in any shape or form.
i began with the piano. everyone in my family got piano lessons as soon as they were old enough to have metal cutlery at the dinner table. my parents are not particularly musical nor did they have insight into the amazing things musical training can do to a developing mind – it’s just that we had a piano.
my first teacher was a 90-year-old spinster called Miss Dowe. she was old when my sister was taught by her 10 years earlier, by this stage she was ancient. I didn’t learn much with Miss Dowe. i don’t know what was more distracting: her whiskers that were longer than her actual hair, the suffocating smell of death mixed with mothballs or the dribble that would ooze out of her mouth onto my hands as she leaned over to read the music. it was customary for Miss Dowe to finish the lesson by force-feeding me stale sponge cake. it made me suspicious of the word ‘cake’ which I thought Miss Dowe used rather loosely.
if not traumatised enough from this early experience the piano was still in my house taunting me. i needed to get up on that chair and show the world what I had. i feel sorry for my relatives that were subjected to these performances. my grandma once said ‘that was interesting’. that’s the best compliment I got on the piano.
once I left my parents' house I realised that the piano isn’t a great travelling companion – it was like a gateway drug, setting the scene for new musical experiences. i started dabbling in all kinds of instruments, whatever I could get my hands on. guitars were accessible but expensive. horn instruments usually featured as rusted antiques. the tambourine was a drunken fall-back to dancing and although drumming things were fun I have no rhythm.
i was stuck. my soul was yearning for melodic release. what should I do? where do I begin?
i was saved. a few drinks at a mate’s place and he casually mentions that he bought his second ukulele. what’s that again? isn’t it like a kids toy? why do you need two? isn’t it a mini-Hawaiian guitar? what do you do with it? do you play? show me.
some people like to play an instrument. i like to perform an instrument. fly along a piano like Billy Joel, wail on riff like Eric Clapton, belt it out like Van the Man and throw down a sax solo like Michael Bolton? i have a musical performance part of my soul that is desperate to express itself in any shape or form.
i began with the piano. everyone in my family got piano lessons as soon as they were old enough to have metal cutlery at the dinner table. my parents are not particularly musical nor did they have insight into the amazing things musical training can do to a developing mind – it’s just that we had a piano.
my first teacher was a 90-year-old spinster called Miss Dowe. she was old when my sister was taught by her 10 years earlier, by this stage she was ancient. I didn’t learn much with Miss Dowe. i don’t know what was more distracting: her whiskers that were longer than her actual hair, the suffocating smell of death mixed with mothballs or the dribble that would ooze out of her mouth onto my hands as she leaned over to read the music. it was customary for Miss Dowe to finish the lesson by force-feeding me stale sponge cake. it made me suspicious of the word ‘cake’ which I thought Miss Dowe used rather loosely.
if not traumatised enough from this early experience the piano was still in my house taunting me. i needed to get up on that chair and show the world what I had. i feel sorry for my relatives that were subjected to these performances. my grandma once said ‘that was interesting’. that’s the best compliment I got on the piano.
once I left my parents' house I realised that the piano isn’t a great travelling companion – it was like a gateway drug, setting the scene for new musical experiences. i started dabbling in all kinds of instruments, whatever I could get my hands on. guitars were accessible but expensive. horn instruments usually featured as rusted antiques. the tambourine was a drunken fall-back to dancing and although drumming things were fun I have no rhythm.
i was stuck. my soul was yearning for melodic release. what should I do? where do I begin?
i was saved. a few drinks at a mate’s place and he casually mentions that he bought his second ukulele. what’s that again? isn’t it like a kids toy? why do you need two? isn’t it a mini-Hawaiian guitar? what do you do with it? do you play? show me.
he pulls them out. one is shaped like a pineapple. that’s funny I think. i like funny. the second was made out of a heavier wood, had a matte finish and a clear resonating sound that made my ears prick up. i picked it up and held it in my hands. it felt good. he taught me a few chords and we jammed together for a while. four hours went by in a whisper.
my next encounter with a ukulele was my first weekend in Darwin
i stood there with the crowd eagerly awaiting for the show to begin. then it began. in the words of Napoleon Dynamite it was… ‘incredible’. nine people crammed on a stage all banging their hearts out on ukuleles; what more could you ask for in a live gig? i had to be a part of this. i had found my calling.
since joining The Dukes I have never felt so well rounded. i sing, i play and most importantly i perform. it is a thrill like no other when someone hands you a pass that says ‘Artist’ and guides you ‘back stage’ – which could just be a tarp and a port-a-loo but it's back there baby. then you step up on some kind of raised platform and turn to face your people. to me, that’s truly living.
so go on. get out there and live. whatever makes your soul shine, just do it. AND most importantly shop at i love lamp on the last Sunday of every month at Happy Yess Markets.
Aroooooooooooooooooooooo!!
since joining The Dukes I have never felt so well rounded. i sing, i play and most importantly i perform. it is a thrill like no other when someone hands you a pass that says ‘Artist’ and guides you ‘back stage’ – which could just be a tarp and a port-a-loo but it's back there baby. then you step up on some kind of raised platform and turn to face your people. to me, that’s truly living.
so go on. get out there and live. whatever makes your soul shine, just do it. AND most importantly shop at i love lamp on the last Sunday of every month at Happy Yess Markets.
Aroooooooooooooooooooooo!!
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