I have "varied" musical interests. I'm probably the only person to have ever purchased in the same iTunes shopping cart both Lisa Loeb and Black Eyed Peas. But that's not actually what I want to write about today.
In 6th grade, my mother forced me to take band lessons. Band was the height of uncool, an extracurricular activity that took up the lunch hour -- so it simultaneously interfered with socializing and eating. I hated the idea and resisted it mightily, but in the end she prevailed (and was ultimately proven right).
Well, if you have to be in band, the only instrument that doesn't completely suck is the drum, right? In theory, that is. I and the two other "percussionists" in this "band" were AWFUL. We were ten times worse than whatever you're imagining. Despite the lack of skills or talent, I enjoyed it enough to not only stick out the year but to do it again the next year (without arm-twisting). By the end of seventh grade -- well, I was still completely awful.
But then something happened: We moved to a new school where there were like a hundred students in the band, a dozen of them in the percussion section. I immediately saw that I was a very little fish in a big pond. Ahh, but only two of these students were playing *mallet* percussion.
Mallet percussion instruments -- xylophone, marimba, vibraphone, glockenspiel, chimes, and so on -- are unlike most drums in that they produce not just rhythm but also melody. The marimba in particular can be used to perform pieces normally played on the violin or piano. You can play them with one mallet held in each hand, just as you would play a drum with sticks in each hand. Or you can hold two (or more) mallets in each hand, and play them more like a piano. I barely had any idea how to play, but I knew that I could be second place instead of tenth, and that was something.
One of the two mallet percussionists in this band was a complete loser, so that they didn't even bother with tryouts before making me second place. The other was a girl -- and we all know girls pose no challenge to misogynist thirteen-year-old boys, right? Mallet percussion it is then!
Oh, but wait. This girl was not merely good but actually excellent, a really top-notch mallet player. For the rest of the year, every time I challenged her for "first chair", she completely wiped the floor with me. It rankled more than you can understand to lose so completely to a girl, and in that weird adolescent logic I simultaneously had a huge crush on her. Everyone knew it, and also knew that I had no chance (at either task). It was a highly amusing situation for everyone but me.
I talked the school into loaning me a xylophone for the summer. We lived with my grandmother and I occupied a small room, which the xylophone and bed more than filled, but I could get in and out of the room by climbing under one and over the other, so it was ok. I practiced the xylophone every day, sometimes all day.
The new school year brought with it band tryouts, and then something truly magical happened -- I didn't suck. I didn't win either, but the girl (Andrea) was shaken up, and the rest of the year our duels were close and closely watched. Andrea still held first chair most of my 8th grade year (she was excellent, after all), but I took it from her often enough to keep us both on our toes. Competition is a wonderful thing.
Andrea was a year older so she would have moved on to high school that next year, but unfortunately her family was military and moved away. For all of ninth grade I held first chair unchallenged, but continued to practice hard every day, so that by the time I reached high school (10th grade), I was the best in the state. Literally -- I won the statewide competition that year, and got my choice of being in the Oklahoma All-State Orchestra or the All-State Band.
I had never heard an orchestra live before, so that was my choice. I don't regret it, although the experience wasn't all it could have been (the other kids all came from higher socioeconomic classes, orchestra music rarely has much for the mallet player to do, and the director was a complete ass). In its first rehearsal, the orchestra played Brahms' Hungarian Dance No. 5 while I stood mesmerized in the percussion section behind it. It's really something to listen to a live orchestra (even a high-school one) from zero feet away. An unforgettable experience.
I kept playing competitively throughout high school, but eventually I had to choose between music and other pursuits (math, science, etc.). I chose the latter. Caltech had a crummy music program, and after two years of that I abandoned performance music altogether.
Eight years passed. I was finally able to afford my own marimba, which now sits in our living room. I'm nowhere near as good as I used to be (and probably never will be), but I'm able to play a few songs well enough that I and others enjoy them, and I guess that will have to do.
In quiet moments, I sometimes ponder the path not taken and the odd circumstances that led up to it. If not for a pushy mother... if not for a new school with too many drummers... if not for my desire to win... if not for a girl...