Music Never Dies

Music has always been a major part of my life. In fact I can still clearly remember how excited I was about going into grade 4 so that I could go into "band class."

I was a total band geek when I was a kid, but I loved it. I played flute.

*Insert flute jokes here.*

I was 9 years old when I got my first instrument. I don't know how my family put up with it. Every day we were required to practice for at least an hour to two hours. For the first few weeks I would play for at least a few hours, and as you know there's no volume switch on a fucking flute. Unfortunately for my family, all I was learning was a basic B flat scale and hot cross buns.

We eventually moved onto "When The Saints Go Marching In" or whatever it's called... but man... two hours a day of some shitty kid playing shitty flute, to the same two shitty songs and the same shitty scale...

I should have been beaten within an inch of my life. That's probably why my dad really drank. I'm sure no one sober could put up with that sort of crap.

Either way, I kept at it and for some unknown reason I became pretty good at it. I played in junior band my first year, but went straight into intermediate band once I hit grade 5. Shortly after that I was asked to be a part of the senior band and would play with the kids at the highschool. So here is this little 10/11 year old kid playing with 14-18 year olds. I would have to walk over to the highschool after school usually one or two nights a week to practice with them.

I always enjoyed playing flute. It sounds really ridiculous because American Pie permanently ruined the image of the flute so no one can ever take it seriously... but in all honesty I enjoyed the music itself.

I also started doing private lessons with some guy named Simon. He would drive up to Fort from Prince George every second Sunday. It was 40 dollars an hour to practice with him and it would be at my band teachers house.

Wow this post is starting to sound creepy.

All of my lessons with him were particularly spent practicing solo pieces. I was learning one piece in particular and ended up winning some sort of honours award for it. They gave me some trophy that I got to hold on to for the year then you give it back, blah blah blah... and then they give you a plaque as well so that you at least have something to keep for however long you want to keep it for. Oddly enough I still have mine. I even brought it with me to Vancouver. I don't even know why because I would never display the thing anywhere, it sits in a drawer collecting dust... but I suppose it's just the whole "childhood keepsake" sort of thing. I don't have anything else from when I was a kid. None of it really seemed to be kept which is kind of sad.



I ended up quitting once I hit grade 7. It wasn't because I hated band or because it "wasn't cool anymore" it was actually because I hated my fucking band teacher. Our old band teacher had quit, so they got some new guy in there that no one really seemed to like. I eventually started spending my band practices pretending I had hiccups so I couldn't play. This is where I learned the old faithful "I will pay you 50 dollars if you can hiccup for me 3 times in a row" trick. It turns out whenever you NEED to hiccup for someone 3 times in a row, you just can't do it. Dually noted band teacher, dually noted.

My grandma gives me shit all the time for quitting. She used to love listening to me play. Again, why I don't know, I'm pretty sure I actually sounded like shit but who knows.

I never got rid of my flute, it was paid off so I kept it and just like the shitty award plaque I've packed it with me everywhere I've went. Every now and again I actually take it out and play it but not too often since it's pretty embarrassing.

In grade 8 I found a new use for my flute... not the disgusting reason you pervs are all thinking of. I discovered that my flute was the best hiding place for joints. No one EVER looks inside your flute. You could tuck away your pot in there, close the case, it keeps the smell in, and no one would ever think to look there. So needless to say the instrument at least served a purpose. I was much smarter when I wasn't stoned than when I was, because clearly my hiding spot for my pot was awesome, however smoking it outside your bedroom window while the window is still open so that the smell can float up through the house and then trying to blame it on the cats litter box was not so awesome.



I find it strange though how something I only really spent 3 and a half years playing, still sticks with me. I remember how to read notes still, I still remember a couple songs I used to play. Not the entire songs of course, but main riffs. My flute is pretty busted up, in need of some dent removals and what not. My other "I don't feel like playing today" tactic was to smash the flute against the chair (wouldn't even have to be that hard) and it would put a small dent in it. It wouldn't be a big dent but would be enough of one to screw up the tuning. There is still one dent in there that permanently fucked with the E flat note.

Oh how I hated band practice with that new teacher.

It's funny though because in the end it obviously meant something to me otherwise I wouldn't have kept it around all these years. Here I am, 13 years later with the same flute in the same red velvet lined case, still with a desire to pick it up and play it every once in awhile.