Chapters (30)
- Cover
- About the Authors
- I
- Enter the Forest
- Sisters Are Cool
- Tuning Is Like Cheese
- Nothing a Hammer Can’t Fix
- Good Sheep Make for a Good Sound
- Kazune Is Extraordinary
- II
- Close Your Eyes and Decide
- Make Your Craft Invisible
- It Needs to Sound Lively
- Achieve a Sense of Harmony
- III
- Stick with the Menu
- Don’t Give Everyone a Harley
- Some of Us Are Blessed
- Even Pianos Deserve Second Chances
- Music Is No Competition
- One of Them Is Frozen
- IV
- Surrender Yourself to the Wind
- Many Routes through the Forest
- Tune for the Individual
- It Only Takes Ten Thousand
- The Answer Is in the Stars
- V
- Greatness = Perseverance + Resignation
- A True Master Is Forever a Pupil
I always remember this. Adjusting the fluctuation of sound waves and the pitch – that’s something anyone can master with practice. I was told in no uncertain terms that it had nothing to do with innate skill but was entirely through effort. It didn’t matter whether you could play the piano or not, whether you were zealous, or whether you had a good ear. As long as you practised, anyone could do it.
The whistle had blown and I had begun the long race, but I wondered: how far had I moved from the starting line?
‘The sound is much clearer and distinct now, I think. Thank you.’
Thanks and a bow of the head.
Once I’d left a client’s house, I always made a point of jotting down notes about the job, often as soon as I got back to the car. What condition the piano had been in, what sort of tuning I’d carried out, what quality of tone the client was looking for.
Following this particular appointment I also noted the client’s impression that the piano now sounded clearer and more distinct. The word ‘distinct’ was very important. Even if clients couldn’t quite express what sort of sound they were after, I could read their desires from random comments they made along the way. Today’s client had most certainly been looking for a clarity of sound even if he hadn’t been conscious of this himself – he was so very pleased at the end of the job. I was recording a trail of evidence – a sequence of clues that had led me to this point.
Some people preferred a softer tone, some a sharper or more acute sound. If they were able to express themselves clearly, then I could tune the piano to fit what they wanted as closely as possible. The problem was that clients more often didn’t know themselves what sound they wanted. Then, through a few stray hints, we both fumbled towards the sound we were after.
‘It needs to sound lively.’
Although I was happy when this particular client, who’d been unsure of what he wanted, was pleased with the tuning I’d done, his final verdict left me confused:
‘Thanks to you, it has a more mellow tone now.’
A lively sound and a mellow sound – how were these compatible?
The client, not noticing my puzzlement, continued, ‘It’s as though a flat tone has become more rounded.’
Ah, now I finally understood. Apparently he meant that a slack, relaxed kind of sound had tautened up, become rounded like a crystal-clear drop of water. When I finally understood this, a ray of sunshine seemed to break through. How ideal it would be if we could communicate solely through the voice of the piano.