Piano, the continuing saga
Apr. 20th, 2009 11:35 amWhen I first played my new-old piano, it sounded like it hadn't been played since sometime in the 1980s. The strings kind of went, "What?" as if just waking up from a long sleep. I wasn't too happy with the sound, and thought it sounded pretty tinny. It took me a little while to try playing it again. The second time, it sounded better. There was a warmth to the tone that hadn't been there before, and I began to do that weird thing I do to get it to sing in its best voice, even if that voice wasn't perfect. This went on for a couple of days, and each day I played it for a slightly longer time and each day it sounded a little better.
It still needed tuning, though, so a couple of nights ago I sent an email to a local piano tuner asking for an appointment and an estimate. Still haven't heard back from him but if I do, I'll arrange for that to happen soon.
Last night, though, the lack of tuning mattered even less than before. This time I think it fully woke up, as if to say, "Oh, someone is really playing me again - this isn't just some random occurrence. I can sing now." I used keys and played chords I usually don't play, and this strange combination of ex-tree, metal, and whatever they made keys out of 100 years ago began to sing the strange melodies and notes that live in my mind...
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rialian said he enjoys hearing me play. That meant a lot. When we had to leave that night to return to our kitties and be ready to go to work, I was very sad to leave the piano behind. I was unsure how much of that sadness had to do with leaving, and how much had to do with the fact that I strongly associate the piano with my mom, who would play songs for me to help me sleep when I was four. There's also the factor that this piano had lain dormant for nearly 30 years - so maybe it carried some sadness of its own. I think musical instruments develop a kind of sentience, and abandoning them leaves the resonances of that abandonment, and perhaps the echo of someone else's emotion and memory...
Anyway, I got the serial number off of the back of the piano and looked on the Bluebook of Pianos website, to try to find its exact age. I found sub-page of this site which listed Huntington (http://www.bluebookofpianos.com/agesh.htm#Art-o-tone), but although serial numbers and years are listed for nearly every other piano type, they are not listed for Huntington. The page contains a small paragraph about the Huntington Piano Company (you have to scroll down to see the tiny paragraph) but nothing I didn't already know.
So... (Fool(x))+money$=soon_parted! I paid $5 for a "full piano report" from Concert Piano Services in Toronto. It was cheap and I'm curious.
I included everything I already know in the "Notes" section of my order, so hopefully they'll see that and not duplicate what I already know. The piano itself gave us the impression "1910". This could have something to do with the fact that the earliest sheet music we found in the piano bench was dated 1911. I want to get a more precise age and see if that's right.
It still needed tuning, though, so a couple of nights ago I sent an email to a local piano tuner asking for an appointment and an estimate. Still haven't heard back from him but if I do, I'll arrange for that to happen soon.
Last night, though, the lack of tuning mattered even less than before. This time I think it fully woke up, as if to say, "Oh, someone is really playing me again - this isn't just some random occurrence. I can sing now." I used keys and played chords I usually don't play, and this strange combination of ex-tree, metal, and whatever they made keys out of 100 years ago began to sing the strange melodies and notes that live in my mind...
rialian said he enjoys hearing me play. That meant a lot. When we had to leave that night to return to our kitties and be ready to go to work, I was very sad to leave the piano behind. I was unsure how much of that sadness had to do with leaving, and how much had to do with the fact that I strongly associate the piano with my mom, who would play songs for me to help me sleep when I was four. There's also the factor that this piano had lain dormant for nearly 30 years - so maybe it carried some sadness of its own. I think musical instruments develop a kind of sentience, and abandoning them leaves the resonances of that abandonment, and perhaps the echo of someone else's emotion and memory... Anyway, I got the serial number off of the back of the piano and looked on the Bluebook of Pianos website, to try to find its exact age. I found sub-page of this site which listed Huntington (http://www.bluebookofpianos.com/agesh.htm#Art-o-tone), but although serial numbers and years are listed for nearly every other piano type, they are not listed for Huntington. The page contains a small paragraph about the Huntington Piano Company (you have to scroll down to see the tiny paragraph) but nothing I didn't already know.
So... (Fool(x))+money$=soon_parted! I paid $5 for a "full piano report" from Concert Piano Services in Toronto. It was cheap and I'm curious.
I included everything I already know in the "Notes" section of my order, so hopefully they'll see that and not duplicate what I already know. The piano itself gave us the impression "1910". This could have something to do with the fact that the earliest sheet music we found in the piano bench was dated 1911. I want to get a more precise age and see if that's right.
