I am posting the following in this music column, as an explanation of music’s importance to me.
The mods have been kind in allowing me to use this musical conversation as a therapy for my PFS-tortured soul. I thank them, and remind you all that comments and contributions are welcome!
Now my true confession:
My mom was a music teacher. She instilled a love of music in all 4 of her children.
My youngest sister has perfect pitch. Her instrument is her voice, and I have posted her music skills in this column previously. She has performed in public as recently as 2023, and is also involved in theater acting/singing, including most recently a production of Cabaret.
My other sister was in high school band and sings well, but has been the black sheep who never pursued music.
My brother leans to stringed instruments. He plays 6 and 12 string guitar, acoustic and electric, as well as the banjo. Not a singer, though!
Myself? I play piano and organ, I liked the keyed music. I have dabbled in guitar with my brother’s urging, and even have a couple autoharps (think Carter family). I sing in the church choir and also in solo sets, or did pre-PFS.
PFS stole my love of music, for three years I had music anhedonia (my self-diagnosis.) I didn’t touch an instrument and did not turn my stereo on. I didn’t miss music and didn’t care. Slowly, the anhedonia lifted. I heard music again as a thing of beauty, not just noise.
I love music again but as a listener only. I cannot sing because I don’t have the wind to make it through even one verse, and cannot remember words. I can recall parts of verses of songs I’ve known for 60 years, but only bits and pieces. I do not play, my hands don’t cooperate.
That’s my story, why I started the music column. I’m praying for the day I can recall whole songs again, the day my fingers are capable of “tickling the ivories” again. Meanwhile, I’m here in the music room. Join me. @Scotsman @Greek
Jim
