When I was just a wee one, many moons ago and on an entirely different continent, my grandmother used to take me to the symphony. I still remember sitting in my seat in an enormous theatre and watching with awe as the conductor waved his baton in the air creating this amazing music filled with strings and horns that would just crash over me and into my ears, wave after wave as I soaked up concertos and nocturnes, all the while dreaming of the day that I would stand in front of those people and wave my arms around in whatever time signature the piece called for and produce for others the incredible experience I had taken each and every time.
My love for classical music is something that I attribute to the fact that I was pushed so hard to take (and continue) piano lessons from the age of 5 to 15. My father was pushed by his mother due to both of them having “so much talent but never enough drive to do anything about it,” which was something I heard again and again every time I’d grumble about having to do hours of scales. Even though I took lessons for 10 years, I’d only had 2 instructors, and both of them were little old ladies that had that old lady hump and bald spot that I’d always eye so warily (my god, what if I look like that some day?). They were both fairly kind, although the first instructor was much more inclined to smack me on the knuckles if my hands weren’t held in the proper manner (wrists up, fingers slightly bent, light fingertips). She would give me hot chocolate with enough sugar to leave a delicious sugary chocolatey pile of diabetes at the bottom of the cup, so I never held the reprimanding against her.
As I got older more of my friends started taking piano lessons (seemed to be the requisite thing for a child to do in my area), and a lot of them started delving more into jazz piano, or contemporary. But I stuck with classical. There’s something about it that works for me, timing wise. Even when the time signature does change, it’s still always within an established structure. Improving with those jazzy riffs was something that I could never wrap my head (or my fingers) around; it always sounded so clunky, and just a little off.
And so, obviously, I developed a love for classical music. I kept it hidden at first for fear of being recognized for the nerd I am (I was in deep denial as a child, but it’s something I’ve grown to accept and embrace), but would secretly yearn for the day I could spread my arms and yell to the world “I LOVE VIVALDI,” or at least for the day I wouldn’t feel the need to hide my tapes when my friends would come over. And then one day, one glorious, eye-opening, life-changing day I saw the movie A Clockwork Orange, in which one Ludwig Van Beethoven is very prominently featured. It wasn’t my first introduction to Ludwig Van; obviously I had been playing Fur Elise and the Moonlight Sonata for years at this point (little fun fact, Fur Elise is the piano’s version of Stairway to Heaven in music shops. They don’t want you to play it. Maybe you’re amazing, but chances are you will mangle it and drive all customers from the store). And then I watched the incredibly historically inaccurate but still absolutely stunning movie Amadeus. Maybe it was just the age I was at, or I was coming in to my own, or whatever feel good tag line you’d like to put on it, but I decided to throw the self-induced shackles of shame aside and stop hiding it. I am a classical music nerd. Not in the sense that I can rattle off every opus of every nocturne written, or even that I can recognize the name of a piece, but in the sense that I know the difference between adagio and allegro, and I will stop what I’m doing to close my eyes and absorb the beauty and power of something like this:
or this
or of course, this
or this. Holy shit, how good is this?
I understand why kids don’t get behind classical music. It’s not cool. It’s music your grandparents listen to. It’s not on the radio (well not on any of the good stations, at least), it doesn’t have catchy lyrics or even words you can understand (although truth be told, I have no idea what OutKast says in 80% of that Hey Ya song). I used to get really frustrated when my adult (or older) friends would say they didn’t get classical. How can you not get it? I’ve had many arguments with metalheads about how theoretically speaking, a lot of classical music is original metal. I’ve loosened up on that a little now. Fair enough, I don’t want to listen to Nickleback or ColdPlay, you don’t want to listen to Chopin or Handel. I get it.
I was chatting with a friend of mine about music a while ago, and he referred to himself as a total electronic music snob. Then he said something silly about not liking band music (not all band music, just a lot of it). Not band like grade 8 marching band, but like… regular music, I guess. And I said to him that he should think of all the music he’s totally missing out on because he’s not willing to give it a chance. And not give it a chance like listen to the first 5 seconds of it before shutting off the youtube video and cursing me for sending it in the first place. I mean like listening to it critically so you can make an informed decision on your feelings on it, and then you can actually back it up with valid points about why you like or dislike it. Because I used to be a music snot, and was very specific about what I would or wouldn’t listen to. And then one day I realized that I like music, and the music that I like tends to span across the genres, and why would I want to cut myself off from that enjoyment just because I don’t think the whole “idea” of the music is cool? Ridiculous. Because of that realization I was able to finally start enjoying the radness that is Biggie Smalls. It’s the same reason I don’t believe in guilty pleasures when it comes to music. Sure there’s stuff I like that my friends don’t, and I won’t play it when they’re around. Not because I’m worried what they’ll think of me if they know that I actually rock out pretty hard to Britney Spears’ Toxic whenever it comes up on my mp3 player. But because I know that they don’t want to hear it. It’s cool, no biggie (see what I did there?). And I love love love hearing new music. I ask my friends for new music all the time, and I’ve discovered some amazing stuff because of it. And even if it’s not really my thing right away, if it doesn’t make my ears bleed, I’ll give it a second shot.
Okay, so where does the self love come in? Honestly, I just thought it was a catchy title. But it is pretty applicable, in a platonic way. In order to truly love yourself, you need to embrace yourself, and all aspects of you. Sure, it’s normal to have things you want to change, and even things you don’t like about yourself that you know you can’t change, but you can still accept those things. I think denial is not only a form of self-delusion, but it’s a form of self-deprecation as well. Know thyself, accept thyself, love thyself.
And listen to more classical music.
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