Fluting Away

I’ve been asking all my musician friends lately which instrument to learn next: Oboe, Clarinet, or Flute. I was discouraged to play the oboe (double reed, medyo mahirap ata). The clarinet was my next choice, but I’ve been teeter-tottering over it. One clarinetist friend said it was harder to play than the flute (which was refuted by the flutist), and another said there’s not many popular venues in which to play it (aside from an orchestra), but that really didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. I’ve kinda developed a soft spot for the clarinet, probably because it was beginning to sound like an underdog in the woodwind world, but also because it was a new sound for me. It certainly isn’t an instrument you hear everyday. And wouldn’t it be great to make new sounds after years of piano and a year of bass guitar?

Then Nikki lends me her flute for the week, and shows me in 2 seconds how to assemble the thing, play the F scale, disassemble it, clean the insides, and plunk it back into the case. I ask her weakly, "May fingering chart ka ba?" To which she replied with an if-you-find-one-can-you-print-one-for-me-too smile, "Wala eh."

So I surf the internet high and low for fingering charts, care instructions, and breathing tips. I painstakingly PrintScreen and Ctrl+V and resize the Flash images of the notes (one image per note!) onto MS Word. Those of you who understand that process know how painstaking it is. But every painstaking bit of it was borne of some sort of desperate passion that here, at last, after days, weeks of dreaming about it, I finally get to play something, any of the three.

So I print my finely laid out fingering chart and put it in my clear book, and proceed to find a spot for myself. I toothbrush, then gargle some mouthwash for good measure, and proceed to the flute.

I tell you, this is not an easy instrument! The recorder and fife, at least that had some sort of logic. A scale goes up and down, up and down, as it normally does. But this one, there are all sorts of knicks and knacks, buttons and levers that I don’t understand — but every note, when you hit it right, is magic!

I didn’t realize this was the sound I was looking for, something breathy and rich and warm and furry, with a million colors in a note. (You know, there’s a chance I’d think similarly of the clarinet if I ever get to play one…)

Maybe it’s not about the flute — maybe I just never thought I would play anything else other than the piano my entire life. All my life, it had been a love-hate relationship with the piano, and then eventually the familiarity (but sometimes kind of dead-end feeling) with an old friend that you know would probably be your greatest, but last. I thought that any other stage after kindergarten was already too late to learn a musical instrument. And it just feels so good to know that I was wrong.

Then, in seven days, I’ll be back to dreaming about flutes and clarinets and oboes instead of playing one of them. I would probably dream of tenor saxs, too, and french horns and tubas and trombones, if my current dreams weren’t silly enough!