Some people belong to book clubs; that's because they don't have piano club. Tonight was the monthly meeting of piano club. Five of us, all adult pianists, all quite good, get together every month (as we have for almost six years), and tonight it was my turn to host. We have very few rules:
- Everyone plays something, every time (exceptions are allowed for laziness, illness, or change in barometric pressure).
- We drink wine and tea.
- Dessert is served following the piano-playing. Nothing is eaten while others play.
- Our conversation is wide-ranging, but we do talk like piano nerds quite a bit of the time.
- We usually precede our individual performances with a piano disclaimer: a reason why this particular sucky performance will bring shame on us, our family, our nation, and probably God.
- We are exclusive. Don't ask to join, because we're the group we need to be.
PS: Yes, that's our piano. Nice, huh?
6 comments:
As a member of your other, less exclusive club, I can only look on with envy.
And yes, the piano is lovely. It reminds me of how badly out of practice I am.
Nice piano pr0n!
Sounds a bit like singing in a barbershop quartet only we do it like an orgy - all together at the same time. :-)
I know there's at least one book in print that's about being in a book club. The meaning of the club over time, the way membership develops, what happens when there's someone in the group who's difficult or who needs to be excused for some reason, what the expectations are, what the "contract" is. What are the rules? What are the meta-rules about the rules?
From educational psychology we have been given the classic arc of group
dynamics - forming, storming, norming, performing (Tuckman, 1965). We learn (and come to believe) that *all* groups can be understood through this arc. Subsequent modifications (which do not really extend the cuteness or limerickogenic possibilities) are : adjourning, transforming, reforming.
Uh, OK. I'm back. (Just because that *looked* exactly like a fugue state doesn't necessarily mean it was in fact a fugue state.) (oh. wait. perception is reality.) (ruh ro.)
OK. I'll stay here now.
When I was a teen-aged piano student (at exactly the same time as Tuckman's first paper was published), my teacher had a mandatory "piano party" every six weeks. I hated them at the time, but I look back on it now and I see exactly what she was doing, and how smart it was. If only Mrs. Titus had stayed current with her subscription to "Psychological Bulletin" she would have known that she couldn't change the assortment of attendees for the sake of variety. The group thrives ("performs") only by actually becoming a group.
(We could discuss this model by looking at another successful group, Alcoholics Anonymous, and seeing how the development of norms has created a different but equally powerful sense of belonging.) (I'll save that for another time, OK?)
Like any other long-term group, piano club has become its own living entity. Every pianist who hears about it wants to be part of it. One time there was a little piece in the Strib that referred indirectly to our piano club, and I got calls at the office from strangers who tracked me down, asking if they could be in piano club.
One of my oldest friends (where oldest means long-lasting, not youth-deficient) has been in a book club for about 15 years. It's as precious to her as piano club is to me. I used to feel bad that I wasn't included in her group at the beginning, or at any point in ensuing years. (Hey - I know how to read too!! I'm fun!! I'll listen and behave!! I know how to procure and serve good treats!! What am I, chopped liver?)
But now I understand, and I'm so happy for her that she's part of a thriving group.
In Tuckman's model, storming is inevitable, and always includes some rockiness about group membership. I can't invite you to ours. But, like Scott, if I had magic for you, it would be for you to have your own version of piano club.
PS I'm very interested to learn that the group norms in Tom's barberhop quartet include "orgy." That would be a good thing for future discussion as well.
I think there's a lot of what Tom has to say in comments that merits future discussion. Tom might get his own guest post one day.
I've always been in love with piano club, as someone who watches and observes from the sidelines as well as one who benefits from the said dessert as leftovers. (Debbie: your Patisserie Margot creations never cease to amaze me.)
But I'll admit that I'm a little jealous of the group, not as one who feels excluded (God no. Would you really want me to play my pop sheet music hits?), but as a singer, I can't think of five other classical singers who I would want to form a "song salon" with, as well as who I would want to perform for and listen to, and whose company I enjoy that much. (Except for Ms. P and Tom, of course. Note to Tom: leave the "barberhop" genre at home, please, and bring a tenor aria.) Is that because most singers are freaks? Are pianists and singers really that different?
[Insert right-signal turn here.]
My good friend Kjersti and I always enjoy a good laugh, especially when it comes to a particular "click" from college that, although we were friends with individuals from the click, we were always excluded from the click as group. She and I even dated members of the click, but do you think they would ever invite us to one of their click events? Hell no! Even the Bible study this click formed in college was exclusive. Now how's that for being Christian?
Fast forward to present day, and as far as we know, the click is still going strong. Most if not all of them have spent some amount of time in South Korea teaching English, and they're even starting to marry into each other's families. And Kjersti and I couldn't be more happy for them.
Piano club has a good thing going, and I wish you many years of playing music together. (Even when Scooter and I are living in New York City...)
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