I have no musical ability. It’s laughable. For a week in fifth grade, I sweated over the recorder (an instrument
commonly called a flute-a-phone by Hoosiers at the time). The
object was to determine if students had natural ability, inclination
or interest to become members of the band in sixth grade. I fervently attacked “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “Row, Row Row Your
Boat,” and the “Marines Hymn.” For brief instances, I seemed to
catch on. Volume was my strength. But no matter how hard I memorized
or willed my fingers to coordinate with the left side of my brain
(or is it the right?), I couldn’t completely get the lamb back
home from school or the Marines out of Tripoli. While I was still
rowing upstream, some of the girls in class had moved on to Brahms
and were competing for the coveted oboe. Mercifully, the music teacher let me and a couple of other guys
drop. We resumed our focus on Ford Motor Company’s Punt, Pass
and Kick. It should have been no surprise. I was never even able to sing.
In fourth grade music class, Mrs. Judd allowed me to stand next
to her while she played the piano. When she nodded, it was my
job to turn the pages of the music book. She had great insight.
Not only did she prevent my disrupting everyone else in the class
and our performances, but she made me feel I was making an important
contribution, while not forcing me to sing. My daughters tell me I still can’t carry a tune. Once in a while,
I’ll get moved by something like “Yesterday” playing on the radio.
I’ll join in and think I’m singing really good. They laugh. I
swear I’m sounding just like McCartney. They insist I’m off key,
off something, flat, or whatever. But I can’t hear it. If I’m in the wrong mood, they can hurt my feelings. Make me mad.
After a while, conspiracies against you get a little irritating. But, I’ve finally found what I’m good at. I have this uncanny
ability to perform Roger Whitaker versions of such classics as
“Yummy, Yummy, Yummy,” “Sugar, Sugar,” “Hanky Panky,” and “Knock
Three Times.” I just slow the songs down a little bit, interpret the substance
and add feeling. There’s virtually no composition incompatible
with the style. For lack of a better term, I refer to it as the
Broadway Operatic Caricature School of music. I find it very entertaining
and uplifting, though it can irritate others. Volume is still
my strength and definite trademark. To me, it sounds really good. It’s unique, on the cutting edge,
and within my capabilities. I can even do a very mean “Row, Row,
Row Your Boat.”
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My Musical Niche
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