Kenny Chan

At the age of 4 my parents enrolled me into piano lessons. Prior to taking those piano lessons I didn’t have any interest in music. Unlike many children who got into music, I wasn’t predisposed to music nor did I have an affinity for it. Due to my disinterest, going to piano lessons felt like a chore. The 40 minute drives and language barrier between my instructor and I further fueled my disinterest. Although I found this “hobby” monotonous, my parents and instructors quickly learned that I was pretty good at it. I was progressing fairly quickly for my age and I scored fairly high in recitals. Unfortunately I had a fatal flaw, I couldn’t read music.

In hindsight, I believe the language barrier paired with my undeveloped brain led to me learning from watching my instructor’s tutorials rather than my knowledge of music theory. Nonetheless, my instructor encouraged me to take on harder pieces and compete in competitions. Being a kid who enjoyed winning, I gladly took her up on that offer. As expected, I did not win very often. The pieces my instructor told me to play were way out of my comfort zone. The jump from learning Cockles and Mussels to Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C sharp minor within the span of 5 years is comparable to throwing a club swim athlete into the Olympics.

After a few more years of losing and frustration, I decided to quit doing piano lessons. Although the act of playing the piano was more so traumatic than constructive, I learned to appreciate music a lot more. I have recently taken a liking to music in the Romantic era, more specifically, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto in C minor. I feel like the pieces I was forced to play have rubbed on me and greatly influenced my music taste.