The Last Samurai

Some people might have been daunted by this setback. The Konigsbergs faced musical catastrophe on a daily basis, & their motto was: Never say die.

What are you going to play for me? asked the homely man.

Linda took the violin out of its case. She explained that she had left her music on the train, but that she was going to play a Bach partita.

She played a Bach partita, and the homely man looked without comment at his knee, and then she got through a Beethoven sonata with only a couple of hairy moments, and the man looked calmly at his knee.

And now what are you going to play? said the homely man without comment.

Linda asked: Would you like to hear me play the viola?

Man: If you would like to play it for me I will be happy to hear you play it.

Linda put the violin back in the case, and she took out the viola. She played an obscure sonata for viola solo which she had learned a couple of years ago. Even at the time it had seemed completely unmemorable, the type of composition which composers do for some reason foist off on the viola. For a moment she wondered whether she would be able to remember it, but it came back once she got going. She couldn’t remember how to go on after the first repeat & so had to do it twice to stall for time, & she had to make up a new andante having temporarily forgotten the old one (but luckily the piece was so obscure he probably wouldn’t notice), but apart from that she thought she scraped through pretty well.

The homely man continued to look at his knee.

She said: That’s just to give you the general idea. Would you like me to play another piece?

He said: I think I’ve got the general idea.

She said: Would you like me to play the mandolin?

He said: If you would like to play it.

She played a few short pieces by Beethoven and Hummel just to give him the general idea, and then she played a few pieces on the flute so he would see she could play the flute.

He listened without comment, and then he looked at his watch and said: Is there anything else you’d like to play for me?

She said: I can also play the cello, the guitar and the ukulele, but I left them at home.

He said: Would you say that one of those was your best instrument?

She said: I wouldn’t say best instrument. My cello teacher said I showed promise, and of course any idiot can play the guitar, and if you can play the guitar you don’t have to be a genius to play the ukulele, but I don’t know that I would say best instrument.

A musician can develop a kind of sixth sense for the mood of his audience. My mother sensed that the audition was not going well.

The man in the bow tie looked at his watch again, and he stood up and paced up and down and said: I’m afraid I have an appointment so—

I can play the piano, she said reluctantly, & she said vivaciously: Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb!

I’m a little pressed for time, said the man, but he sat down again & crossed one leg over the other & looked at his knee.

My mother went to the piano and sat down. She had not practiced, but in the last week she had played Chopin’s Prelude No. 24 in D minor 217 times. She began to play Chopin’s Prelude No. 24 in D minor for the 218th time that week, and for the first time the homely man looked up from his knee.

He said: I’d like to hear something else.

He said: Do you want me to find you some music? If there’s something you need we can get it from the library.

She shook her head. She must play something. She began to play the Moonlight Sonata. There was something odd about this; it was odd not to be playing Chopin’s Prelude No. 24 in D minor for the 219th time.

And what are you going to play for me now? asked the man.

She began to play a Brahms intermezzo. This time she did not wait for him to ask but launched into another piece and another and another, filling in more and more as she went along, her hands skittering up and down the keyboard.

In the middle of the piece the man stood up and said That’s enough.

He walked quickly over the creaking boards toward her; he was saying No, no, no, no, no. She thought at first he was complaining because she was improvising where she couldn’t remember the piece.

No no no no, he said stopping beside her.

You can’t play the piano like that.

He said: There’s no weight in your hands.

Linda took her hands off the keys. She did not understand what he meant. And he said: Can’t you FEEL how tense your wrists are? You’ve got to play with the whole arm. Don’t play from the wrist. You’ve got to relax or you’ll never be in control.

He asked her to play a C major scale and before she had played 3 notes he said No. He told her to play with the whole weight of her arm on each note. He told her not to worry about mistakes.

Someone knocked on the door and looked in & he said Not now.

He stood by for an hour while her clever hand moved stupidly over the white keys.