hearing
The tips of my fingers gingerly touch the ivory keys before me. They used to be spotless white, but through years of use they are more a faded creamy colour now. No matter. I still get that same little tingle inside, a little thrill that comes with playing music. Sometimes when I play, I'm not aware of what I'm doing, it's second nature when you know a piece well I suppose, but I always get a little jump of excitement when I hear the notes merging together, the melody and accompaniment bonding to create music, music that can inspire, can create a sense of joy, can stimulate reflection, and then realise it's my fingers on the keys, it's me that's making that music.
Sounds a bit airy-fairy right?
I press down lightly on the keys and wait for the hammers to strike each string within the body of the piano and produce the chord.
It comes, full bodied, enlightening and pleasantly uplifting. It makes me smile, I already feel better having heard this chord. I know what piece I'm going to play, it's not all uplifting, but I think it reflects the current mood.
I know what you're thinking…I'm some high-brow musician type, live and die music, music is my life and all that…
Well, not really. Rescues are my life. They consume so much of my life, as with all my brothers, but I don't resent that. You think watching a family reunited after an earthquake, or saving a group of men trapped in a submarine doesn't make you feel a million dollars. Sure, we might be secret, but we all know the recognition is there, even if we can't publicly acknowledge it.
Music is an addition in my life, an added bonus that is like an old friend. If I'm feeling particularly pensive, perhaps pondering over the events of a rescue, I can sit at this piano for hours, playing through the thoughts. It's often the only time I can get to think having four other brothers around.
The music shifts, my fingers altering the rhythm, slowing it slightly and altering the key to a more minor tone as my thoughts begin to unwind.
Today, I kind of get the feeling that Scott isn't overly impressed with the way the rescue turned out. He takes it all to heart being the field commander and is now probably skulking around his room, arguing with himself about his orders and our actions. Alan's sulking. He didn't get to go out on the mission. Enough said really. Gordon's annoyed. Well I think he's annoyed, sometimes it can be hard to tell. He's quiet so I think something's annoying him, more than likely the fact Scott yelled him out at the rescue site. But they'll work through it I'm sure. Discontent is never normally a long lasting thing when we're all living on top of each other.
Another movement begins, this time a more major key comes forward, arpeggios running down the upper end of the scale. It almost reminds me of the sounds of pattering feet as Gordon escapes the scene of a crime having planted another of his pranks. That's what he needs. A prank. Just like I need this piano playing to soothe any lingering worries from a rescue site, Gordon needs to play a prank on someone…and as long as it's not me, he's welcome to it.
The tempo increases as I begin to wonder about Scott, how he will get out the niggling angst. The music has a pounding accompaniment and an almost march like sound to it. I could almost guarantee he's running along the beach, sweating it out as he powers alongside the waves, kicking up sand beneath his feet, listening to his breath coming harsh from his chest, letting his breathing set the tempo for him. And by the time he gets back for a shower, he'll be feeling much better.
Now Alan. The music becomes almost confused at this point. Alternating minor and major keys with varying slow, sweeping melodies suddenly becoming staccato notes, piercing the melody. I guess I have no idea how he'll get out of the sulk. I frown as I pick up on a complicated melody that does have some kind of optimistic feel to it. I like the sound of it and continue it, varying it as the music moves on. It is then that I see the shadow crossing the lounge doorway. And there's the man of moment standing watching me, looking thoughtful.
"Hey Virgil," Alan says from the doorway.
"Hey Alan," I return, not halting in my playing.
"That sounds cool," he says. "It's quite cheerful. You seen Tin Tin?"
Ah-ha, a smile and then asking for Tin Tin's whereabouts. Alan is cured!
And with that I can finish the piece with a magnificent crescendo followed by a rapid descent of chords down the scale until a final joyous cadence perfectly concludes the movement and I can sit back and sigh, my work is done and I feel better already.
Told you music could do that, didn't I?