Well, if the truth be known, I am pooped. Completely whacked. Worn out. I’ve had a very busy week. Over the last week I have set up a crypt, played three concerts of duo music for cello and violin (including one very difficult Bach sonata and some Bartok pieces that required nerves of steel), driven to the Blue Mountains, played another concert, taught a busy day in a Sydney school, went to another Sydney school and got a huge choir ready for their ANZAC assembly, got in a plane, travelled to another school a long way away, taught K-9 there, two choir rehearsals and some staff drumming classes. Then I’ve come home and fallen in a heap.
I have a strange sort-of duality in my life – I’m a music teacher that makes a lot of noise and spends a lot of time laughing and being a bit silly in front of groups of children. I’m also a cellist – actually, on reflection, I make a fair bit of noise and spend a lot of time laughing and being silly doing that as well. Some of my colleagues (some teachers and some professional musicians… actually some non-colleagues as well) can’t work out what box to put me in – am I a teacher? a performer? am I better at one of them? do I like one of them more?
I had a think about it. I love doing both of them. And to me, they are both really similar. I am simply sharing what I love the most. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s a Bach sonata, or a piece of folk music, or a simple song, or a chime-bar piece, or a drumming pattern. It’s just music. And music is what I love. I wish that more people loved it. I wish that every child could be taught it properly. I wish that every grown-up could go to concerts and be transported by it. It’s the best thing I know. And I love to share it. In any form.
Does that make sense, I wonder?