Growl and Squeak

As I revive my very rusty keyboard skills, I am taken back in time to all those occasions when they were intermittently resurrected to accompany congregations and rag-tag choirs in two different parishes.

We had the loveliest little reed organ, in our parish church, with the sweetest sound. One needed to coordinate hands moving horizontally on the keyboard with feet pumping the pedals in vertical motion, but the resultant melody rewarded the most basic of skills with an almost professional output. Coaxed by the musician priest in our parish, I reluctantly graduated from bashing the school piano with the mandatory daily rendering of Chopsticks and the Devil’s March as we processed to class from assembly. He wrote the music, taught me the chords and the fingering and encouraged me to practice and, hopefully, improve. It also helped that he sang like an angel and while he led from the pulpit, I played confidently, comfortably hidden away behind a handy pillar and out of view of the congregation. The church used to be packed to the doorways in those days. These are some of my happiest memories. The priest is no more, but the music is still with me.

Then, I grew up, married and moved. A new home, a new parish, a new priest and the time of electronic keyboards – just plug in and play! The parish had been established for some time but the church structure was still in the making, so what we had was four walls topped with corrugated roofing. The congregations was somewhat rustic in comparison to my earlier parish, and I soon found myself playing to a tempo that galloped in contrast to the more sedate accompaniment that I had been schooled in. Buoyant and hearty would be an apt description! No matter how loud or slow the accompaniment, the congregation forged ahead in happy unison and full voice to the pace that they enjoyed. I was younger, my fingers more flexible and I soon learnt to keep up!! I was joined by a violinist and a guitarist and together with the lead vocalist, who thankfully also had a lovely voice, the music of the liturgy became an event we all looked forward to. Tucked away in memory are the Nativity and Easter vigil services, when voices soared to heaven under the stars, at the open air services. I also remember the monsoons when an umbrella had to be unfurled over the keyboard to save it from the rain coming through the holey roof. (Sorry, bad pun!) We enjoyed the sublime and the sometimes ridiculous and took it all in our stride.

Then, once again, a change of residence. This time, the parish had no need of my keyboard skills and they lay dormant for over twenty years. Other occupations and distractions kept me busy. Today, as I rediscover the keyboard in its newest avatar, with a variety of ‘bells and whistles’ at my disposal, and grope my way through key signatures, timing and tempo, I am reminded of how often I have had to adjust and readjust to the range enjoyed by the lead singer and congregation – too low and they growl, too high and they squeak. Singing is supposed to be all about the music and the melody, but one gets to encounter many unexpected sounds in the repertoire! Ultimately, it all comes right on the day. Nine times out of ten. Fingers crossed.

From all my experience, two things have remained with me: it is the splendid music of the liturgy that holds me in thrall to my faith – a tradition that has been handed down from generations and rises like incense to God. What a legacy! And the other is that, with encouragement, even a meagre talent can bloom!