Rodney McKay and Music
You know, as someone who comes from a highly musical background, I don't understand how Rodney could have given up music.
I understand that he was relatively young when he forsook the piano. But I've never known a musically inclined person for whom music wasn't part of their soul, no matter the age. The damage to my voice forced me to retire shortly before I was 18; I only sang professionally for 8 years. But those years left an indelible mark on me, and the only way I was able to move forward was to completely remake myself as an individual. While singing wasn't the only thing I had - thank goodness - it was, nonetheless, the only thing that mattered to me. Music makes you feel alive. It becomes the reason you breathe air.
I want to be able to say I can't imagine what Rodney experienced when he was told he was technically proficient but had no art by his teacher, when he gave up his music. I wish I didn't know what it felt like to give up music.
There are people who know me quite well who think I don't like opera and musicals because I fully admit I hate going to them. I hate it, because I know what I'm missing out on every time I hear an aria, every time I see a production. I was there. I remember every step of it, from the hateful hours and hours of practice to the glare of lights that prevents you from seeing the house to the standing ovations that you can't see but only hear. Odi et amo. And yet I can't stay away.
I wonder how many McKay fans understand that for him to have moved on, become who he has, accomplish what he has... he had to close off a piece of his soul. He's had to lock away a very, very large part of himself, forget it ever existed. And probably every time he hears the piano played - every time a classical or jazz piece sounds on the radio or his ipod - he's going to remember that searing, rending pain of deciding to give up music. It's going to be just as fresh as the day he quit, and it's going to bring tears to his eyes despite decades of separation because it never goes away.
The bitterness he must feel sometimes - astounds me. However good he is and might be at physics and engineering, it will never be enough for him, because it wasn't his first choice. He will always be hypercritical of himself, and no accomplishment he ever has will surpass the moments he had playing. People think it's bad losing someone they love... Try losing music. Seriously, it's that comparable.
By the way, his teacher should be drawn and quartered. Maybe strung to the wheel.
This horrific piece of melancholic sentimentality was brought to you by forcryinoutloud's Symphony and Turi vodka. I'm sorry, I'll never drink and Symphony ever again.
I understand that he was relatively young when he forsook the piano. But I've never known a musically inclined person for whom music wasn't part of their soul, no matter the age. The damage to my voice forced me to retire shortly before I was 18; I only sang professionally for 8 years. But those years left an indelible mark on me, and the only way I was able to move forward was to completely remake myself as an individual. While singing wasn't the only thing I had - thank goodness - it was, nonetheless, the only thing that mattered to me. Music makes you feel alive. It becomes the reason you breathe air.
I want to be able to say I can't imagine what Rodney experienced when he was told he was technically proficient but had no art by his teacher, when he gave up his music. I wish I didn't know what it felt like to give up music.
There are people who know me quite well who think I don't like opera and musicals because I fully admit I hate going to them. I hate it, because I know what I'm missing out on every time I hear an aria, every time I see a production. I was there. I remember every step of it, from the hateful hours and hours of practice to the glare of lights that prevents you from seeing the house to the standing ovations that you can't see but only hear. Odi et amo. And yet I can't stay away.
I wonder how many McKay fans understand that for him to have moved on, become who he has, accomplish what he has... he had to close off a piece of his soul. He's had to lock away a very, very large part of himself, forget it ever existed. And probably every time he hears the piano played - every time a classical or jazz piece sounds on the radio or his ipod - he's going to remember that searing, rending pain of deciding to give up music. It's going to be just as fresh as the day he quit, and it's going to bring tears to his eyes despite decades of separation because it never goes away.
The bitterness he must feel sometimes - astounds me. However good he is and might be at physics and engineering, it will never be enough for him, because it wasn't his first choice. He will always be hypercritical of himself, and no accomplishment he ever has will surpass the moments he had playing. People think it's bad losing someone they love... Try losing music. Seriously, it's that comparable.
By the way, his teacher should be drawn and quartered. Maybe strung to the wheel.
This horrific piece of melancholic sentimentality was brought to you by forcryinoutloud's Symphony and Turi vodka. I'm sorry, I'll never drink and Symphony ever again.