Skip to main content

When the Plans Meet the Hands

In this video, I walk through my "You Are My Sunshine" arrangement, demonstrating bits and pieces of the different sections and sharing a few thoughts along the way.

I'm planning to submit my arrangement for feedback through Piano With Jonny, either at the live "Ask Jonny" Q&A or in the monthly Q&A with Daine Jordan. I'll probably do the monthly one; I tend to get a little flustered playing for a group.

Another option is to make a video of the whole thing (with no talking) and post it the group with a specific request for feedback and suggestions. I actually tried to make that video this morning, but quickly realized my hands want to do something other than what I've written, and I ended up with a standoff between my brain and my hands.

Brain vs Hands: The Standoff

The brain wants the section to land low, setting up a dramatic leap into what comes next. The hands, on the other hand, keep drifting upward, as if they’d rather linger where the notes are infectiously bright and merry.

Neither choice is wrong, but only one of them fits the original plan.

Which section caused the standoff? Why, the one at the end of the next video, where I suddenly stop!

I made three different takes and ended up stopping at the exact same spot every time. My hands wanted to go their own way, and they were surprisingly consistent about it.

Seeking a Ceasefire

Tonight (or tomorrow morning), I'll sit down and sort it out—figure out whether the hands are onto something, or whether they need to be gently persuaded to stick to the plan.

And then—assuming a ceasefire can be negotiated—I might finally be able to post this thing from beginning to end!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Eureka! Secondary Dominant!

I am such a nerd, and I love being a nerd! Today I was working on Section 5 of You Are My Sunshine, specifically on getting this section up to performance level. In other words, I was practicing being a performer , not an arranger . But then, of course, I came up with another idea. I had just played the delicate sixths and descending rag rolls of "when skies are gray" (I chord) and then moved to the parallel octaves of "you never know, dear" (leading to  IV). The shift sounded abrupt to me. Harsh. It needed something. It needed musical WD-40. Something to ease the hinge between textures. And then I stumbled upon it! Right before moving to IV, I can slip in a V7/IV — a secondary dominant! So I tried it, and it sounded so good that I actually yelled "Secondary dominant!" out loud in my house like I was Archimedes discovering water displacement in the bathtub. It's such a small thing. One little chord. But it smooths that transition, leaning the harmony ...

The Rusty Lock and Key

I'm in a room. There's a door in front of me. On the other side of that door is a whole world of adventure and imagination and joy and delight, but for the moment, I'm locked in this gray little room. The door itself has a lock that is all rusted. I've tried to open it in the past, but I've never gotten very far. Sometimes I try to scrape the rust off the lock. I also have a rusty old key that I occasionally try to polish. Each time, after I've made a little progress, I'll put it into the keyhole in hopes of opening the door. It turns a half a millimeter or so, but the brief excitement at my progress dies quickly when I realize, once again, the lock isn't opening. I set the old key aside, and from there I can forget about the door, the lock, and the world outside, for months—years, even. But then something happens—I hear birdsong, or I catch a glimpse of color—and I pick up the key and start picking away at the stubborn rust. That dark little room is my ...

Well.

It looks like "A Sort of Notebook" is an ex-blog. I'm not going to post a link to it because it's been taken over by spammers. It's Saturday night and I love merlot. No, I'm not drunkly. I went to a 50th birthday party tonight and had two lovely glasses of merlot. Then we went to a toy store. (I should never go to a toy store after two glasses of merlot, and after running eight miles. I bought some yellow teeth, a remote-control fart machine, two crazy pencils, and a present for my future niece who has yet to be conceived.) We went to an art gallery earlier that happens to have a grand piano and I played the Bach Prelude. Oh my, but it's sounding nice! Deborah (my piano teacher) has a grand (I can't remember the manufacturer. Forgive me.) that she wants to sell me for $8,800, or $100 a key. Hubster thinks that's too much. I told him it's a steal--we get the pedals, and the wood, and the wheels, and the bench for free! Lightning struck last nigh...