The Piano Man At The YMCA

On my day off yesterday from the salt mine, I fell into the usual traffic pile-ups, both on the road and at the YMCA (gym), but it was more like the sort of pile-ups as in the lunchtime crowds that are seldom and sparse during a normal/regular work week schedule.

Usually it takes me about an hour or so to work out and then I relax in the lounge, just taking in all the sounds around me such as parents and children’s excited chatter on Friday evenings (when I usually go), adults talking to people manning the front desk and sometimes men or children bopping on the piano.

Today was one of those times, where I caught an older well-dressed mustached man bopping on the piano and it was enjoyable. He was just bopping out an improvisational tune, while playing a tune called “Melinda,” at least that’s what was written across the sheet music he had.

I approached the man casually and asked him what he was playing. He told me he was just banging out some tunes and adding his own material whenever he could stuff it into the notes.

I asked him who his influences are and he told me that he really dug artists like Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, The Temptations, The Spinners and other 1960s rhythm and blues groups. He kept on playing, pinching out notes and then he stopped suddenly in his piano-playing, turned to me and asked me, “Am I disturbing you?”

I was a little taken aback by his question and reassured him that he wasn’t “disturbing” me by any means and I meant it too. In all honesty, I do appreciate any musician of any type, from amateur to polished spitfire. I told him I was a performer, singer and musician too, although my method of playing was far outweighed by his, as my piano method is more like my typing method, three fingers, followed by hunt & peck playing.

He laughed when I told him that, but insisted he wasn’t very good and he plays by ear only. He was more concerned though as to whether or not I was “being disturbed” by his playing. I reassured him over and over that I wasn’t disturbed and was just enjoying his playing.

I told him, “Anyone who is disturbed by music of any shape, sound or form must be disturbed too,” but you know something? He didn’t buy it, nope, he seemed more concerned as if he were polluting the air with what he thought was his strange, weird and possible mistake-ridden music. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

My guess and it is a safe one, by the astonished looks on his face that seemed more surprised and awkward than anything else, it seemed as though no one ever commented on his playing methods before. For a little while afterwards, after wandering out of the lounge, out the door and to my car, I felt kind of bad that I said anything to him, for it seemed to upset his balance.

But it’s in my nature to react to music-playing, whether, good, bad, ugly, strange or otherwise and it shouldn’t keep a good man down from playing whatever he feels like playing; that’s what the piano is there for, out-of-tune or not; it’s there to play and to for those to listen to the beautiful meticulous sounds that are plinked, plunked, pinched, poked and other creative and ingenious key-stroking methods.

Not everyone who plays the piano will be end up in some concert hall playing for a roomful of haughty music critics and attentive music connoisseurs who react with smiles or winces broken out in little patterns within their facial structures because they paid for someone they weren’t expecting, no, that won’t likely happen.

Nor will every pianist end up playing the small bars, clubs and bistros that dot in triplicate in every town, city and village across the United States, sometimes that’s a little too much for the ego and usually the sights are set higher.

And sometimes they’re just not ready for the “big-time” and prefer the one or two people that listen to them tinkle the ivories from time to time. They might play a talent show or help out in their house of worship (if they believe in a God system) every now and again or teach someone how to play. Those kinds of folks are not playing for the money, rather the pleasure they receive watching other people react happily to their playing.

That’s the best kind of satisfaction there is on the planet, too. So when you see someone playing a piano anywhere, be sure and compliment him/her. Although money is always good in the tip jar if they have one beside the piano, a few words of encouragement always helps too.

(Confidential to that man I saw playing yesterday in the YMCA lounge, keep up the good work!)