I still have pinky problems. Not good. I feel like my poor hands are atrophying. I've been playing piano quite a bit at lunch, but nothing too difficult. Mostly I've been improvising new-age versions of hymns in the style of Jeff Bjork, David Nevue, etc.--not my favorite kind of music, but an unbelievably easy style to play. I really missed my calling as new-age Christian music pianist. Really.
Of course, I'm only 39 ... it's not like I'm on my deathbed. It's just a little depressing that I'm improvising the same old crap since the early 1980's. (My style is crap--not the hymns themselves. At least not most of them.) Truth is, I've played new-agey, beautiful and relaxing renditions of classics like "The Old Rugged Cross" and "In The Garden" for years. It's music I grew up to, so it's in my blood. Show me a hymnbook arrangement and I'll crank out a beautiful solo-piano rendition faster than you can say "Yanni Chryssomallis."
I love my music. I'm just really depressed about it right now. I don't know where I want to go with it. I'm not a performer--I know that much. But it seems like navel-gazing to practice, practice, practice all the time in my little George closet.
I know. I'm forgetting how Bach makes me sail above and beyond all the petty cares of this world. Someone please remind me. Robert? George? Sebastian?
Now that I'm having these hand issues, I'm suddenly feeling like the piano world is not my oyster. Not that it ever was ... but I was seriously considering auditioning for an amateur pianists competition, and now ... I don't know. I'm feeling a sense of ... maybe I can't do this after all.
OK. I just wanted to update the blog and let my reader(s?) know how things are. I'm off to play some piano ... and hoping the exercise lifts me out of these doldrums rather than dragging me deeper in.