From the Ashes Rise
And long ago-- in the Year 89 of the Twentienth Century --a less-than-wealthy keyboardist sought a fully-weighted gigging and recording keyboard for all seasons. She scanned the horizon and lo! at a reduced price an insurance adjustor offered an instrument that had somehow survived a client's domestic conflagration. And it was good--with just enough knicks and scratches to be ever-so-slightly rock'n roll.
Soon this keyboard was seen in the scene --although it became gradually unidentifiable as the suburban practice piano it once was. For, over the blemishes and scars, stickers mysteriously blossomed like a strange vinyl crop. And various insignificant moving parts fell away-- for it has been said: who needs knobs!? who needs plastic side panels?! As the keyboard matured & came of age, the keyboardist was strangely moved by its rugged yet classic metal chassis and MIDI features. She found herself inexorably compelled to lie upon it and express her special love . And it was good.
In the Year 2 of the Twenty-First Century the second-to lowest A flat ceased to play. And that was bad. Other random notes began dying, Was this a cry for help? Should the keyboardist stop indulging in this love that dare not speak its name? Such a quandary.
In the Year 5 of the Twenty-First Century the keyboardist took the keyboard in to Haight-Ashbury Music center for repairs. And then: A flat was back! And it was good. But sadly, a month later the power supply failed. Once again Haight-Ashbury Music performed miracles. It was good--but how long could this go on?
Musicians shook their heads and shunned the keyboard & indeed, in the last weeks of Year 5 of the Twenty-First Century (at band practice), sorrow struck--all the E flats up and down the keyboard were silenced. Could this be the end? The keyboardist took the keyboard to a quiet room & let it rest gently on a satin pillow stuffed with vacuum tubes and tuning forks. And on DAY 4 of the Year 6 of the Twenty-First century, LO! All the E flats sounded in a joyous noise unto the Mission district.
Let it be said: the tiniest spark can light up your favorite diode-- again and again.
Soon this keyboard was seen in the scene --although it became gradually unidentifiable as the suburban practice piano it once was. For, over the blemishes and scars, stickers mysteriously blossomed like a strange vinyl crop. And various insignificant moving parts fell away-- for it has been said: who needs knobs!? who needs plastic side panels?! As the keyboard matured & came of age, the keyboardist was strangely moved by its rugged yet classic metal chassis and MIDI features. She found herself inexorably compelled to lie upon it and express her special love . And it was good.
In the Year 2 of the Twenty-First Century the second-to lowest A flat ceased to play. And that was bad. Other random notes began dying, Was this a cry for help? Should the keyboardist stop indulging in this love that dare not speak its name? Such a quandary.
In the Year 5 of the Twenty-First Century the keyboardist took the keyboard in to Haight-Ashbury Music center for repairs. And then: A flat was back! And it was good. But sadly, a month later the power supply failed. Once again Haight-Ashbury Music performed miracles. It was good--but how long could this go on?
Musicians shook their heads and shunned the keyboard & indeed, in the last weeks of Year 5 of the Twenty-First Century (at band practice), sorrow struck--all the E flats up and down the keyboard were silenced. Could this be the end? The keyboardist took the keyboard to a quiet room & let it rest gently on a satin pillow stuffed with vacuum tubes and tuning forks. And on DAY 4 of the Year 6 of the Twenty-First century, LO! All the E flats sounded in a joyous noise unto the Mission district.
Let it be said: the tiniest spark can light up your favorite diode-- again and again.
posted by Margrit | 11:28 PM
2 Comments:
Nothing moves my heart more than a high-flying paean to technology that outlives any reasonably projected useful life. Perhaps it is responding to all the love that's been, er, "lavished" upon it through the years...
As long as you feel my paean...
Post a Comment
<< Home