2024 piano

It is a reasonably well known fact that a good concert piano must be kept at even keel with all environments that threaten to distort, detune or otherwise alter its blissful state of pristine dimensional stability and thereby its compelling sound. It is to this end that after each performance a person endowed with special skills in this direction has their way with the piano as they apply a modicum of liquid, usually water, with a watering can.  While this activity fills the less familiar observer with absolute horror. It is hardly a surprise that assorted dilettantes (e.g. anyone with a container) will willfully or inadvertently distort and abuse this activity in service to their own particular ends.     

It was a stroke of genius on part of the Steinway piano company to add a drain hole with a stopper and a hose attachment to their concert pianos; just in case. Brilliant thoughts in engineering especially in view of California sales; California where the roofing and water proofing industry still hasn’t come to grips with the rainy seasons and roof leaks are responsible for much of what results in damage to open concert pianos. Or perhaps it might be tears, Bluebeard style; Bela Bartok would have incorporated them into his opera given such an option (and I am quoting from Bluebeards Castle: “Tears Judith, tears”). I am reasonably certain that Keith Jarret is one of the few pianists who has gone beyond or should I say below and had to seriously contemplate the extended possibilities that such a feature offers. Especially in view of the fact that he owes the success of his Cologne Concert largely to a happy accident involving a well soaked, but put to an obscure place of storage, concert piano. This incident forced him to improvise in order to make up for playing on an inferior instrument. The rest is as they say: Is history.  But, back to the extended design feature: The drain is, of course, so well camouflaged that it can only be found by a select and dedicated cadre of plumbers, a group of men and women that also play piano in their off time and who’s curiosity usually extends beyond the mere tinkling on the ivories. A professional curiosity that takes them below what is commonly perceived as proper piano play. The drain is, needless to say, meant to be used sparingly. Pouring beer into the piano, as is the custom in certain parts of the world, is strongly and in the most certain terms, discouraged. It is feared that the strings may well become unruly and it is feared that the they may develop a taste for certain liquids and thus inevitably necessitate the re-tuning of the instrument.       

The procedure for recovering from liquid abuse requires the lifting of the furthest leg of the instrument by a few inches (yes, much like what a dog might do to relive itself.) Depending on the expected flow and the present state of the liquid level; appropriate caution is in order.  All the while it will be essential to move slowly and exercise great care with an eye on the possibility that liquid may otherwise slosh towards the keyboard side which is entirely undesirable. Once the instrument is stable a bucket must be placed under the drain (just in case of some mishap) and a common ¾” garden hose can be attached to the drain spout with its other end leading into a convenient receptacle of sufficiently large capacity. Some further attention needs to be invested into making sure that the receiver is actually placed lower than the fluid level in the piano; to avoid any kind of reverse flow as such might lead to seriously unpleasant fluid damage and the need for yet more retuning of the instrument. Do not use a hair dryer during or after this procedure, tempting though this might be, not under any circumstances as such action would cancel the procedure’s effects all together. The greatest of care has of course been afforded by the manufacturer in making the instrument largely waterproof by using all the appropriate lacquers and state of the art water sealants, all the same aging of the wood and changes in temperature may have taken their toll on the previously pristine conditions of the instrument rendering the piano body vulnerable.       

In closing, perhaps I should explain how these thoughts came about. When I coughed into awakening this morning, I was greeted by a reddish dawn, owing to the emissions from assorted wild fires all around. The twilight eventually spilled her watercolors to the floor as she mixed her spectra into a hazy composite of near white as if reflecting from a blank page, a blank sheet of paper. The Harvest of Insomnia: Memories, thoughts and ideas that have festered all night between trips to the porcelain, aching to be written down quickly to avoid being forgotten and yet they probably should be forgotten on account of their inherent pointlessness. At such moments, every latent thought feverishly tries to escape from consciousness. A certain clarity none the less emerges, complete with the ample doubts that arise while writing things down. Amidst the twilight haze and putting thoughts to paper one suddenly realizes that the old music has already stopped and many new concert pianos have gathered all around. They are waiting, resembling something like a herd of leaderless Hippopotami, frantically outdoing one another with new approaches as to how to stage a Sonata for boiling water that is to be performed by entirely too many instruments! Is twelve-tone music, yes, more notes for more people, really an answer? Or is it: Simple notes for simple people to make way for new forms of escape?     

You decide; anyway, it is time to prepare for tears!