Taking Music Lessons

When I was in 3rd Grade

My parents decided I should take piano lessons. Did they consult me before doing so?...uh, NO…actually I can't really remember.

Why would they enroll Jay Sandifer in a hobby of their choice? Wasn't I old enough, at age nine, to make my own decisions about lessons? Did they even consider my feelings? I remember throwing multiple tantrums in the vain and selfish attempt to bring swift and sudden destruction to these traumatic episodes in my young life called 'Piano Lessons'. Why?

When I was in 6th Grade

I performed a Sonata at the school talent show. How fun...I think. I remember the encouraging warm compliments of my parent’s friends and my friend’s parents. Running those scales must have been quite impressive...

Taking piano lessons and practicing had become my best friend...how sad. My identity was being built day by day with the bricks practice. Did I like lessons yet…after three years? Ask the old gutted player piano I often banged in frustration as my mother yelled from the kitchen…ordering me to practice the ‘assigned music’!

However, banging on the keys...working out seemingly impossible runs, rhythms and phrases (and best of all discovering I could make up songs) helped me realize that music was a something I had no choice but to come to grips with.

It’s not that I didn’t like music…what I didn’t like was the trouble I had reading the music. I didn’t like being forced to practice when I would have rather been playing with friends...and most of all… I did not understand nor appreciate the discipline and patience being worked inside of me. My parents told me that I would ‘appreciate and thank them when I grew older’ more times than I think I can count. Can any one relate?

When I was in 9th Grade

I began playing music with my friends. Band was my favorite subject…even though I often found my self writing 500 hundred word essays explaining the importance of respect and listening to the teacher (either for being foolishly disruptive, mouthing off or running late). Marching band was literally a blast…and those band camps and festivals…

My friends and I formed a garage band, and although it was 1986 we were somehow influenced by the music and culture of the mid to late1960’s. Was it Dylan Curry (a guitar player friend)…or his dad… or was it my dad…who had given me his 1970’s Yamaha acoustic guitar (which I still have). The 1960’s! Why? I didn’t realize it at the time, but a plan was at work in my life…so much more than the plan my parents had.

When I was in 12th Grade

I was actually given the option to quit taking lessons…which I did. Immediately! At this point, I was making music on my own anyway and making music with my friends. I had about nine slow, long years of piano lessons under my belt. You would think after 9 years of lessons I would be able to read any notes right off any page and eat them for breakfast, but I couldn’t. I knew how to read the notes, but read them quickly…associating relationships with rhythms and pitch through symbols on a page? No way!

I did however find myself rather intrigued with learning songs from the records, tapes and these ‘new things’ called Compact Discs (I actually began doing this in 9th grade when I received a Korg Poly 800 fro Christmas).

I practiced (on my own…mind you) the songs I wanted to learn. I listened to piano intros, keyboard and Hammond B3 organ solos over and over and over and over again until I got it just right. My teacher became other musicians…on records…in bands...and I loved it.

I began experimenting with my own ideas and sounds, recording them. After playing in a few different rock and blues bands, and having spent five years in school concert, symphonic, and marching bands, I had become.

When I was in Sophomore in College

I experienced a major change in my life. Music took on a whole new meaning…a whole new purpose. I had experienced the dark emotions and isolating sounds of Pink Floyd…so depressing. I could not tolerate the destructive, defiant agenda of most music. Bands like Nirvana and Janes Addiction seemed to sweep my peers under the worn carpet of abuse.

Music had become so important to me. It was practically all I knew. It was like what I breathed. It was my identity… music was my identity…I hid in it…and even though I was right in the middle of art school (The Savannah College of Art & Design-which then had no music courses), I was not satisfied playing the type of music with the type of people in the type of bands with which I was associated.

I knew my destiny involved music. What I didn’t know (yet), was that my destiny also involved teaching. My world was turning upside down.

When I was Graduating College

I was already taking steps in a very different direction than I ever had before [musically]. Graduation Day morning found me performing publicly in a park with a band called Common Heart while Saturday afternoon found me sitting in an auditorium listening to ceremonial address by someone I can’t remember who told everyone present that the world does not owe you a thing…so don’t expect it! If you want something….go out and get it for yourself ...something like that anyway. The year: 1995

When I was Teaching Music

Now I am teaching music, looking for those who will allow me to speak into their lives, encouraging them to pursue their dreams of music. I am looking for those who want help in developing the skill to play an instrument…even if it’s just a hobby. Young and old. Rich and poor. The therapeutic results found in the power of music are plenty reason to pursue any form of music education. Whether for yourself or your children, music lessons are a very important key to developing a basic understanding of the creative process.

www.JBSandifer.com