Music and memory with Mom

I reminisced with Mom recently about the time she had been the accompanist for my post-secondary music program auditions.

“It was a classical piece for marimba, and you played the piano accompaniment,” I said. “Remember?”

After high school I had auditioned for music programs at York University, University of Toronto and Humber College.

“Did I?” my Mom, Sheila, replied. She was going through some health troubles complicated by the lockdown and her memory was not good.

“Yes, it was a lovely piece but I can’t remember the composer.  You waited patiently while I performed the other pieces. I played timpani, snare drum, vibraphone and then you joined me for the marimba piece.”

“Well it’s nice to be reminded about these things,” my Mom said.  “I am glad I could help.” I went on to recall how far she had pursued piano — up to Grade 10 Conservatory performance and then beyond with the Grade 10 theory and music history studies.

I remember Mom taking the same diligent approach to her music history studies as she did to a complicated piece on the piano.  She was well prepared, so could play a piece beautifully, and pass a tough exam.  We heard her play piano in church when we were kids, accompanying the hymn sings in the Sunday School.  When Nadine and I were married, Mom played a piece for us at our reception.

Mom had her hands full as the parent of three kids but still found time for her music. She taught me some piano basics when I was a little kid but also realized I had a passion for percussion. So when I was about 10 or 11 she found me a great teacher, Glenn Price, after spotting a classified ad in the weekly Don Mills paper. She encouraged me to take lessons.

Family unit

Our Dad, Douglas, was not a musician but had a strong tenor singing voice and sure vocal pitch from his school days in the UK. He quietly encouraged of all of our activities, including music, driving us to practices and coming to watch us play music or sports.

mom kids and piano

Looking back, I know I was a bit blasé, more likely sheepish, about my Mom joining me for my music auditions in my late teens. Now as a parent myself, I realize what it must have taken for her to do it. I was eager at that time to get into music school and she was on the line to help me. And she came through for me.

I was accepted by both York and Humber, and chose Humber for its focus on jazz and modern music. I did not stick with music as a study path or career but was proud to be accepted into, and briefly experience, a top music program.

I recall hearing my North York Percussion Ensemble friend Tony go into the audition before me and blow the doors off the drum kit, sending some sweat down my back as I listened in the hallway.  Among more than 100 drummer applicants, Tony and I got two of a handful (maybe 10?) drumming spots in that first-year class. Humber also knew that both of us had played the gamut of percussion instruments as members of the percussion ensemble.

Mom’s memories of those times are a bit foggy, but she feels better knowing these things when I fill in the gaps. One of the problems with memory loss is you may lose the knowledge of your own talents and accomplishments.

Mom was facing some major surgery at Toronto General Hospital recently. During the lockdown and her hospital stay before the surgery, we kept in touch with her by phone and were able to visit in person just once for a health consultation.

Music was a fond and familiar topic. I asked her a few questions about what music meant to her:

You had a piano teacher early on, nicknamed “Lemp” who was an inspiration for you. Can you tell me more about her and why she inspired you?

Miss Lempriere was the piano teacher at my boarding school, Claremont, in Esher, Surrey. She was always very well dressed and had a beautiful smile. She would have been in her late 20s. She gave me weekly lessons in the drawing room on a beautiful grand piano.

I had taken piano lessons before I went to Claremont, but Lemp and I had a good connection; we seemed to understand each other. She was not too demanding, but she would start the lesson by playing the piece I was learning.  I heard the piece the way it should be played. And so I would make sure to practice.  There were two smaller practice rooms there with upright pianos. When I played at my lesson, Lemp would tell me which sections to practice more for the next lesson.

While we were away from home at boarding school, our families would visit on occasion and the children were allowed to come out on the front steps, watch for their parents to come, and wave to greet them. I was at Claremont through high school into what was called Upper 5th, which had an exam and would allow me to qualify to apply for a job.

Your Mom, Ruth Henwood, was an excellent pianist and seemed to easily sight-read and play different forms of music. 

I can’t remember a piano in our home but she must have started me on lessons near our home. My mother also sang in choirs.

Who is your favourite composer and why?

Beethoven creates changing moods in his compositions. An example is the Sonata Pathetique, where a theme is developed through different movements. There are changes from major to minor keys, and changes of feeling.

I also enjoy Mozart’s music for its expression and sometimes light-heartedness.  You can listen to it and imagine running along a hillside in the summer.

Sonata pathetique pic

You played the Sonata Pathetique and some of your other favourites when you were at the Toronto Rehab Institute recently. [Your daughter] Louise brought your music there.

I still love playing. They had a piano in a kind of kitchen area there. I did have a few nice comments from people who listened from the hallway.

Sonata Pathetique score

After you came to Canada, you pursued the Royal Conservatory piano studies as an adult. You achieved Grade 10 in performance.

I am glad you can remind me of these things. I also enjoyed the music history.  Perhaps the history more than the theory, although both are important.

Thanks Mom for these music memories.

 

 

 

Elemental: John Bruder’s music

I first met John Bruder in the elegant McLaughlin Auditorium at Sunnybrook Hospital. We had gathered for a presentation by the Sunnybrook Cochlear Implant (CI) program. Some of us, like John, had already received an implant. Others, like me, were on the waiting list and experiencing a blend of dread and excitement. I wanted to learn more about the surgery and technology that might give me a chance to hear better. 

I recall noticing that John, who was sitting in the row behind me, wore his cochlear device with pride — the circular magnet, cable and high-tech processor stood out next to his ear against close-cropped hair. 

John and I met during the break and promised to get together for coffee. I visited him at his office downtown, where he worked as a management consultant at one of the big consulting firms. We’re roughly the same age; he was hanging in there with his career, while I was about to take a break to deal with hearing troubles.

I learned that John was a musician, and was encouraged that he was still playing piano.  With some trial and error, he had learned to appreciate music in a different way. The act of playing music now, with his new CI hearing system, also helped him to listen to and appreciate music.

During the covid epidemic, I reached John on the west coast, where he was temporarily riding out the storm, and he agreed to share his story:

John Bruder

How long have you played music and how did you first start?

I’ve been playing piano for almost 50 years — I started when I was 8.

I actually had a schoolboy crush on a girl named Beth, who played piano. I naively thought that we’d have the same teacher, or meet in some way, if I played the piano! I had a variety of piano teachers growing up, living in Kapuskasing, North Bay, Peterborough and finally Toronto.

How did your music teachers inspire you?

Fred Pritchard in Peterborough, during my high school years, was a strong influence on my classical piano work. He was quirky but very passionate. He held a global piano Licentiate Diploma, the highest level of Royal Conservatory achievement. Under his guidance, I made it to the Kiwanis Festival provincials one year.

I recall that competition for two reasons:

The first is that I played Rhapsody in C by Dohnanyi. It was unique, as it was written for a Bosendorfer Piano and, as a result, it had a low note in the score that a normal piano couldn’t accommodate. The bottom octave on the Bosendorfer also has reverse colouring on the keys — the raised keys are white and the sunken keys are black.

Secondly, during the finals, given the percussive nature of one section, I broke a black key on the piano.  I scooped it off the keys and it kind of flew into the audience, but I played through to the end. There was then a considerable delay in the proceedings, as they needed to replace the piano for the next competitor. I didn’t win, but got a great story out of it.

I studied classical music until Grade 10 Royal Conservatory, and then when I started University I got interested in blues and developing my ear and improvisation.

I’m 56 now. I’ve played off and on my whole life, having periods where I’d play pretty well all day if I could.

How did hearing loss affect your music?

I started to lose my hearing in my twenties from a genetic disorder that affects the auditory nerve. I switched more to solo play, as it started to get harder to listen to and discriminate other instruments as I was playing. I may have given up a little too easy as well.

Music has three many dimensions: frequency, rhythm and dynamic level. When I received the cochlear implant five years ago, it became apparent that the CI couldn’t make fine discriminations between musical frequency or “pitch.” So a scale played with an error would sound the same as one played correctly.

How did you adapt?

To compensate, my mind would ‘cheat’ — that is, when I was well rested, playing a Chopin Nocturne would sound, to me, very much like I remembered it. The kinetics of playing and my memory were filling in the blanks. However, when I listened to a recording of that same piece I could hardly recognize it without all of the cues I had while performing.

This divide was frustrating, but something I got used to. Since my brain was giving me a ‘fake’ musical experience when I was playing, I resigned myself to thinking that: ‘for a CI user, music is more about playing than listening’.

And so what if my brain was cheating? During the time while playing, I was having a valuable musical experience.

hand with piano

In what other ways have you changed how you play music?

The cochlear implant enhanced the other two aspects of music for me. I found I was able to greatly improve my dynamic control, which is fundamental. My instrument is called a ‘piano-forte’ for a reason — that is, the instrument allows the performer to play in a range from the quietest of musical passages up to an earth-shattering crescendo.

As well, I started to work more on swing rhythms, a style I’d never been able to learn, and I found that I made progress where I couldn’t before.

What kind of instrument do you play now?

I’m lucky to have a Celviano Grand Digital Hybrid piano. This class of piano has the best of both worlds: weighted keys and actual hammers and strings, but also digital pickups to provide lots of flexibility. I can set the instrument to sound like a piano that Chopin would have played in the 1840s, with the acoustics sounding like the type of venue he’d play at.

How have you shared your music with others recently?

I’ve always liked teaching kids. My observation with kids is that although they create their own stories and draw their own pictures, they typically learn the piano by ‘reading’ what is there and not creating. So I like to encourage early improvisation, to introduce ‘play’ into learning.

I taught some blues basics to my nephews. I had them playing two to a piano, where one plays a walking 12-bar bass line and the other improvises. The improviser would start simply with just three notes and different rhythms. Then they would switch. I had them do some ‘call and response’ playing together — this makes piano fun.

What’s up now, and what’s next for you with music?

A few years ago I started lessons with David Story in Toronto. He took me through a once-around-the-kitchen with both classical (Bach, Beethoven, Satie, Debussy, Chopin, Mozart) and various jazz styles such as stride, boogie woogie, and blues. I learned new pieces such as “Tea for Two” by Art Tatum, “Chicago Breakdown” by Big Macco, assorted pieces by Teddy Wilson , Gershwin and more.

David surprised me when I first starting studying with him. He told me: ‘You’re playing too much with your fingers!’. This led me to evolve to a ‘full-body’ approach to playing piano, where my fingers did less work and the gravity and flow of wrists and arms played a more dominant role.

Also for me, with my recent CI hearing system, I want to focus on musical styles and improvisation that highlight rhythmic elements and dynamics over pitch.

This is a path I’d like to continue to explore after the virus abates and I’m back in Toronto with my piano.

As an alternative — I’ve been engaging in a kind of urban-monk lifestyle this year, a new way of living.  So I may try to engage the piano in a different way — perhaps as an aesthetic monk-like practice. Some people who watched me play piano used to comment that they couldn’t see my fingers move, as they were moving so fast. What about not being able to see my fingers move as they are moving too slow? I’d like to dabble a little in those aesthetic, mystic questions.