Should I have been a cellist?

A head of department I worked for put much store in a book which advised the reader on which instrument they (or their child) were best suited to play. Presumably it discussed hand size or shape, other physical attributes, basic intelligence and personality. I say ‘presumably’ because I never read it. I wish I had. But I was sceptical. How can one assess an individual’s suitability to play an instrument based on a check-list approach?

I understand the appeal of such a book – it may be that many people were sent to lessons on an instrument purely on the basis that their parents had ‘always wanted to learn but never had the chance’, only to find the experience a boring or frustrating one. Wanting to avoid making the same mistake for their own child, they look for guidance and inspiration. If I look back at all of the children I worked with and all the adult musicians I’ve known, I suppose one can see traits which are common to certain musicians – I think I might be able to tell a pianist from a brass player just after a short (and non-musical) conversation. Similarly, I think oboists and flautists, whilst both playing woodwind instruments, are very different breeds.

But without guidance, what are parents to do? Some people start their child off on lessons on a particular instrument almost for reflected glory – “Harry goes to piano lessons every Thursday – he’s doing so well”. This is asking for trouble. Of course, some children ask for lessons on an instrument because their friend is also taking them and there is a need to ‘keep up’. This is a risky path to tread and I well remember a child taking lessons on the saxophone because their friends did so and because it was seen as ‘cool’. The poor girl struggled miserably through Grade 1 (and not without much additional support) before putting the instrument down and turning instead to singing lessons – something to which she was much better suited. Some parents want their child to learn an instrument “because I would have loved to learn but never had the chance.” Rather than pushing your child into lessons, why not start now, as a mature learner?

My own introduction to the piano came about through medical need! My mother had been fascinated by a television programme called “The Piano Can be Fun” and asked my dad to buy a piano, which he did for the huge sum of £10 (this was around 1973). She took piano lessons and my brother started shortly after. When my brother went into hospital for the removal of his tonsils I was sent to take the lessons in his place rather than ‘waste’ it. After he came out of hospital, I carried on although my mother stopped. Had it not been for that tv programme (and my brother’s tonsils) I might never have taken up the piano. There was certainly no music provision in my primary school and not much more when I went to secondary school so I might never have become a musician.

As it happened, I took to the piano quite quickly. I picked up the reading of music quite well and also found I could play by ear and improvise. I think the piano quickly became a natural extension of my fingers. Sent to church every week, I had the opportunity to hear an organ (and, in fact, this and the guitar were the only instruments I heard or saw live until I was about 11). One of the church organists showed my brother and I how to switch on the organ and to use the stops and pedals and I was allowed, after services had finished and the church emptied, to sit on the organ and play it for an hour or so, filling the church with the sound of Star Wars and Superman! I started to play for services shortly after and have served as a church organist, on and off, for nearly fifty years.

But, although I can do a pretty good impression of an organist and play some well-known and advanced organ pieces,  I do not consider myself to be an organist. This isn’t just because I have never had a lesson and, as a result, have limited pedal technique. It’s more because I feel like a fraud when I play the organ. It’s a marvellous thing, to hear your playing echoing around a building but I’m always conscious that it’s the instrument itself that makes the sound. If I make a thunderous noise at the end of the Wedding March, it’s because I’ve pulled out all the stops. If I want to thunder on the piano, I have to put my back into it. Similarly, the sound people hear when I play the organ is determined largely by the instrument whereas two pianists can play the same piano and make two very different sounds. I’m simplifying things a bit – one can play the organ badly just as easily as one can any other instrument. And a good organist will exploit the capabilities of their organ with an imagination lacking in non-organists like myself. But, for me, although I can enjoy playing the organ, my reliance on the instrument, rather than on myself, to create the sound and therefore express myself is frustrating and leaves me less satisfied than when I play the piano.

In an ideal world, one would choose one’s instrument from experience. Some conservatoires and schools are able to offer taster sessions to prospective musicians, during which they get to spend time handling and trying to get a sound out of various instruments. This is enormously important as it can open one’s eyes to a wonder undreamed of. The schools I attended could not offer anything like this – one had to take what was given. As a result, when I moved to secondary school, I was sent to clarinet lessons. The only alternatives were drums or steel drums and neither was suggested for me. I didn’t get on with the clarinet. When I started junior music college, I was told that I needed a second instrument and the violin was suggested as the most ‘useful’. I dutifully struggled along with that for a while until my teacher moved me onto the viola (not least because he, himself was a violist). I crawled to Grade 6, which was enough to help me get onto my degree course, whereupon I stopped. I have played the viola a few times since but it has never felt natural. What I had always imagined was myself playing the cello or French horn. Fortunately, at college, while rehearsing with my piano trio, I had the opportunity to try out a cello but it didn’t feel any more natural than the viola – bowed instruments were just not for me. It wasn’t until my 40’s that I finally got to try the French horn. And hated it from the moment I picked it up! Not long after, my head of department asked if I could learn the trombone to support the school’s brass band. I did and loved it! I had never ever thought of playing the trombone and now wished I had started sooner. It’s not the easiest instrument to get one’s head around but it felt ‘right’ and as though I could actually express myself in a way that I could not on the organ and, for the short while that I played it, I really enjoyed the experience.

This has left me more convinced than ever, that the choice of which instrument to play should ideally result from having an opportunity to actually pick up a variety of different ones to see what ‘feels right’. Unfortunately, this is a luxury that few will ever enjoy. They will rely instead, on pursuing whatever is available or on sheer luck. This is such a pity as so many people will either have a miserable time and be put off music altogether or will struggle gamely on through lessons and exams out of a desire to make music without ever finding the best way for them to do it. Do you have a hankering to learn the trumpet? Or double bass? Look for a teacher and see if they can give you an introductory session on it. And if it doesn’t suit you, perhaps you should  try the trombone!