My brother and I ended up playing the viola in the primary school orchestra. We never took a viola lesson, but our teacher would transpose all music from alto to treble clef so that we can play it like a violin. I remember in a Christmas performance at school, the viola parts didn’t have to come in till later in the piece, but when it came time for the viola entrance, I couldn’t get into playing position quick enough and started late. I still do stupid things like that today.

I did not play in the school orchestra when I entered secondary school (equivalent to grade 7?). I wasn’t really sure why, but it seemed like my violin teacher did not want his students to be involved with the school orchestra. I respected my teacher a lot, so I did what he said. Back then, everyone student who took music lessons would take performance exams through the Royal School of Music, and my teacher was so opposed to the idea that a performance can be quantified in different levels. It certainly made an impact on me, to be careful of numbers of the commercial world. He would play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in the most musical way, and ask us young students, how would we grade his performance?

My teacher did have a student, whose parents would insist on my teacher helping her achieve grade 8 in two years. She was a beginner. She got grade 8 in two years. She sounded…. bad.

Even though I didn’t join the school orchestra, I continued violin lessons, all the way through age 19, until I came to the States for college. I was quite proud that when I was 15, I played the Presto from Bach’s BWV 1001 for my music exam at school, and my music teacher asked me why wasn’t I in the orchestra. He thought I played so well for my exam. I am glad to not be part of the orchestra though, as I was much more into basketball during those years. I would have a whole different group of friends had I played in the school orchestra. I am also glad I kept my violin lessons too (ended up taking 12 years of lessons), as it paved the way for my mandolin playing.

(To be continued in How it all started – 4.)

I played in the school orchesra for 4 years since 8 years old. The first piece I played was the second violin part of the famous Eine Kleine Nachtmusik by Mozart. Along with my choir experience, it showed me how musical parts are being put together to form a whole piece.

Orchestra was really fun, because rehearsals were on Saturday afternoons, and we would play table tennis before/after reherasals and during rehearsal breaks. Primary school back then was split into AM and PM schools, and the two schools would have classes on alternating Saturday mornings. Going to orchestras would allow students between the two schools to mingle. Somehow I didn’t exchange names with the PM kids. We would just play ping pong and hang out every week and never bothered to formally meet each other.

There was a piece I learned from orchestra that I really liked, but the repertoire kept changing, and I ended up forgetting the name of the piece and the composer. I remember the melody very well, and would hum the tune for years before (re)learning its name. It wasn’t until I got to Eastman that I learned it was the second movement of Serenade for Strings by Tchaikovsky. No wonder I never remembered it. “Serenade” and “Tchaikovsky” were very difficult words to spell/remember.

Thinking back, this could be the reason of why I am so obssessed with waltzes. (I can think of two other reasons – the waltz cd, and the video game Antarctic Adventure, but this is worth another post altogether.)

(To be continued in How it all started – 3.)

My mom told me I asked for piano lessons when I was 4. She told me I was too young, and said I had to wait till 5 to start. She probably thought I would forget, but as it turned (according to her), I asked for piano lessons on my 5th birthday. But lessons didn’t last long, because I didn’t practice.

I was in the school choir between 6 to 10 years old – an experience I am grateful for, because it taught me how to sing harmonies – extremely useful for all the bands I play with. The only song I remember from choir is All Things Bright and Beautiful by John Rutter. I still hum this song from time to time.

I also remember a humiliating experience from a choir practice: in the middle of rehearsal, the teacher was working with one of the sections, and the rest of us were supposed to sit quietly and wait. I was so into the music, and didn’t realize I was whispering my part along. Suddenly, the girl who say next to me glared at me with disdain. My ears turned red, but I couldn’t go anywhere. Looking back, I didn’t know why I felt so embarrassed – was I singing too loud? I sang out of tune? Because I didn’t keep quiet? I guess it was strange I forgot others were around me. What’s worse was I had to sit next to her for the rest of the semester.

My brother signed up for violin lessons when he was 6 (he is one year younger than me). I don’t know how it started, but I remember taking the violin over (not by force), happily playing what he just practiced on. I didn’t know how to read music then, and I was picking up the tunes by ear. Naturally I also signed up violin lessons. I played violin until I came to the States for college at the age of 19.

Much later in life, I have learned that the critical period for acquiring perfect pitch was 6 years old. My brother has perfect pitch, but I don’t, even though we started roughly at the same time – he was 6 and I was 7!

In Elementary training for musicians, Hindemith wrote about his exercises for training perfect pitch:

“… This experiment may at first fail frequently enough, but after eighty or a hundred attempts a fairly firm and reproducible impression of A must be established. If not, the question may be raised whether there is any musical gift at all in a mind that cannot learn to remember and compare pitches…”

Sorry Maestro.

(To be continued on How it all started 2.)