Remember that musical instrument foisted upon you by the school system around grade 5? I mean the simple plastic recorder, that ear-splitting screech maker your parents sent you down the basement with at practice time, or better still, outside.
For the record(er) – see what I did there? — I have almost zero musical talent. I say “almost” because part of me deludes itself into thinking I can perform recognizable tunes on the thing even now. Yep, I’ve hung onto my vintage whistling contraption and still haul it out once in a while to torment the neighbours and start the local dogs barking.
I can’t sing for sour apples, so learning the recorder gave me a ray of musical hope. I was that kid the teacher instructed to “just mouth the words” when our class performed at an inter-school competition. To my credit, and presumably her chagrin, I sang loud and proud and off-key anyway. I hadn’t dressed up in my best white blouse and precision-pressed navy skirt just to stand in the front row with the other short kids and pretend to sing. Humbug to that, Mrs. Fifth grade teacher.
The singing gene may be weak, but the appreciation of music is strong. Nowhere is it written you can’t participate in the music scene just because your vocal chords wander down paths of their own making. The world’s performers need an audience, and some of us excel as listeners, toe tappers, head bobbers, and hand clappers. We give a mean standing ovation too. Audience members are not only valuable, but necessary. Maslow said it best with his hierarchy of needs: food, clothing, shelter, audience. Or something to that effect. Anyway, a good number of “bums in seats” is encouraging to any performer. Go bums!
It’s extra satisfying to attend a performance in your home town. At Prince Albert’s E.A. Rawlinson Centre it’s hard to get a bad seat. The place is small enough to retain a sense of intimacy, and hosts all sorts of shows. It’s not the only game in town either. Posters on P.A. area bulletin boards and social media may surprise you with their musical offerings. The Mahon auditorium in the John M. Cuelenaere Library has presented band concerts, choral groups and wow factor drumming – and the price is right, sometimes by donation. Local restaurants, bars, churches, clubs and other groups regularly offer something different if you’re so done with binge watching Netflix or flipping through the same old T.V. channels.
Alternatively, maybe you inherited the musical gene and are the entertainment. Hooray for you! I’m envious. How many guitars, violins, drums, keyboards and grandparents’ old harmonicas are hiding in our city’s garages, attics, and unofficial walk-in closets called “extra bedrooms”, languishing among the out of season clothes and abandoned treadmills? Um, several? Or several hundred – those things multiply fast when you aren’t looking. And that’s not counting the grade 5 plastic recorders.
Speaking of which, I haven’t annoyed the neighbours and their dogs for a while. Something patriotic like “O Canada” perhaps? Or the folksy, mellow notes of “Early One Morning”? Some may remember that one as The Friendly Giant’s theme song. Played beautifully on the recorder, as it happens. If you’re too young to have watched Friendly on television, I suggest tracking him down on the internet.
Meanwhile, “Look up. Wa-a-y up. And I’ll call Rusty”.
