I was always a decent sight reader -- having learned very young how to read music. Even as a young teenager I could pluck through anything anyone put in front of me. I'd amaze my friends and show off to my parent's friends and participated in talent shows. I was hot stuff!
Little did I know, though, that my talent was just budding. There was a whole world I didn't know existed.
It all started with a desire to play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It sounded easy enough. Of course, I was thinking of the slow 1st movement, like most everyone else in the world.
So one day, we were in the music shop and we saw this gigantic Beethoven sonata book. My mom paid $20 and I was happy ...
... that is until I got home and started trying to play some of the music. It was hard! There wasn't a single page I could play, and I didn't recognize any of the melodies. It made me feel like I had no talent at all.
And get this ... it didn't even have the Moonlight Sonata! You see -- we got book #2 and the sonata I sought was in book #1. Dagnabit!
So I left the book alone for a while and went back to my Lionel Ritchie and Billy Joel sheet music. At least that was music I could play.
However, I couldn't stop thinking about that book. My mom paid good money for it. Was I going to let it win over me? How could I be hot stuff if there existed something I couldn't play? So, I kept at it. My mom arranged for piano lessons. I got better. I came to recognize the Beethoven tunes. It was hard, but it started becoming more of a fun challenge.
It would take me years, but I was going to learn to play those sonatas. I was going to get my mom's money's worth. Somewhere in there, my mom also paid another $20 for the rest of his sonatas, and I had the full set of 32. By the time I went to college, I could play all of them except one, and make it sound decent. I'd ask a friend to pick any number from 1 to 32, and I would open the books to that sonata and start playing it for them. Any guesses on my bane? Yeah ... the Hammerklavier -- that 4th movement is brutal.
This whole episode taught me several valuable lessons.
#1) I was not hot. And I know I'm still not hot. I chose to pursue composition, mathematics, and computer programming instead of getting myself up to a concert pianist's level, but to most people I sound almost as good. No matter how good I may play any given piece, I know that some other whippersnapper has spent many more hours than I have working on that piece, and can do it better than me. There will always be music more difficult than I can play. I can always improve and enjoy the process, as it will never come to an end.
#2) There is a lot of excellent music at this higher level. Lionel Ritchie and Billy Joel are nice and entertaining, but the music of Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, Prokofiev, and so many others are on such a higher plane of existence. Their music goes places that no pop song can even think of going. A lot of people are satisfied with their pop, but for those who are ready and willing, there is so much more out there -- all you have to do is explore and discover.
#3) The tenacity that I picked up carried over in other parts of my life. I've come to love very hard puzzles, and I seldom let them beat me -- even if I have to write code to solve it. It's helped me excel in all of my math and science pursuits. It's helped me at work to stick to it and solve issues that previous workers were unable to figure out. It even helped me win over my wife, who had told me to leave her alone ... but I didn't.
Now when I compose music, it's difficult for me to write "easy." You can check out my free copy of "The First Noel," which at first I tried to make easy, but it didn't work -- it just grew. And besides, in my church, there's already a plethora of easy music available. If anyone's looking for easy -- it's there, and many times it comes free.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I saw someone describing an "advanced" Latter-day Saint piano solo, and when I checked it out, I found it nowhere near the difficulty of a Beethoven sonata. I could sight-read it easily and even perform it in church that next Sunday if I had wanted to.
My composer friend tells me that publishers of Latter-day Saint sheet music prefer to dumb the music down, so as to increase the sales. If music has any level of difficulty, sales go down. He showed me instances in his own music -- before and after -- how he chose to remove octaves and some complexity while maintaining a semblance of the original. I could understand, but it still saddened me. I thought the original was a much richer creation, and much more worthy of playing.
It's not that I'm trying to purposefully make my music harder, or trying to "bring attention to the music." I'm just simply trying to share what I've discovered in my own life -- share the higher plane of existence -- becoming closer to God with music -- helping people to achieve more than they could before.
So, I've given up dumbing down my music. It saddens me that people are scared to play it, but it's there for those who are ready for it. Just like one gigantic Beethoven sonata book changed my life and helped me grow my talent, these harder pieces of music can challenge others and help them grow their own talents. All I can promise is a rewarding experience for those who work through the music I write.
There is so much more waiting for us in this life if we just simply reach out for it.
