I Met Myself

Yesterday as Ron and Marcia and I walked into Youngstown Country Club, I heard piano music in the background. (Think Nordstrom!) A few minutes later, after being seated overlooking the snow-covered expanses of greens, we walked into the room where the buffet table was situated and I saw a grand piano with a man at the keyboard. I smiled and nodded at him, as we pianists do to each other. Then I leaned over to Ron and said, "A job opportunity!"

The more I listened, the more impressed I was.

I have to confess I'm pretty impressed with myself. I'm a darned good pianist. I have a unique style that relies a lot on inner voices and out-of-the-ordinary harmonic progressions. I can't stand being bored, so I rarely play a piece the same way twice. I'm good and I know it, but I'm also acutely aware that it's a gift from God or the Universe or whencever such things are gifted.

It's common for me to hear a local solo pianist and think he or she is good. Sometimes very good. It's uncommon for me to stop and listen because the pianist is doing the same sorts of things I do. It's rare for me to hear someone I acknowledge is better than I am.

Yesterday I heard the latter. His name is Joe Augustine and he's good. Really good. He and I could be twins. Almost. He's jazzier than I am. And he's very good at that. But the core of how we approach a tune is very similar.

A thousand years ago (around 1975) I took a jazz improv class in Winter Park, FL, to learn how I could improve my sense of the jazz genre. The teacher had each student sit down and play something so he could get a sense of where we were all coming from. I played something and the other students just stared at me. It turns out what they came to class to learn was what I already knew how to do.

What I was doing wasn't jazz, but it was creative. I've used that experience over the years to illustrate the thought that people have different definitions for standard words. To my classmates, what I was doing was jazz. To me, Art Tatum and Oscar Peterson were jazz and I hadn't yet mastered that.

I still haven't mastered it, but sometimes I can stand at the door and knock. And I love how it feels. Now if I could just quit all my other jobs and activities and spend several hours a day seriously practicing, I might be able to walk through the door.

But yesterday, for a moment, I got a sense of how other less-skilled pianists must feel when they hear me.

(And if you're reading this and saying, "Boy, she's got a big ego," then you don't really know me. So don't post a comment saying I should learn humility. I've got plenty of humility. What I'm writing is just reality.)

I'm jazzed over having met Joe Augustine, and I'm gonna get more jazzed and jazzy when we get the opportunity to play together.