Essay Before Diploma

Dear Readers,

After theoKwek's enthusiasm in his violinism, i have also decided to pursue music, at least for leisure. and as i was caught up in practices and failed to notice theokwek's emails. Here is one, before the DiplomaABRSM examination he took in the near past.

I've always believed that there is a sacred yet unexplainable bond between the realms of music and literature, and every musician is, in his own right, a storyteller, as he endeavors to illustrate to the audience, through his melodies, a moving, humorous, tragic, or joyful story, whichever it may be. For each piece I play, besides researching into the creative inspirations of each composer, I also try to interpret the repertoire as a story, weaving plots and characters into the music.

As the hour of my diploma draws near, I have also created a storyline that blends in with the five pieces that I will be playing – Mozart's lively, springing Third Concerto; the second, meditative movement and the third, optimistic movement of Bach's Third Partita; the swift and playful Symphonie Espagnole; the syncopated, gypsy-style Spanish Dance; and lastly, the rolling, rhythmic Kabalevsky Concerto.

This story is dedicated to my Father, for he, though claiming to be musically illiterate, has a heart of music.

The story tells, as all stories do, about the life of a man and of his human nature. Beginning at childhood, Mozart starts the legend with the happy-go-lucky, melodramatic, charming and unpredictable life of a primary schoolkid. Bringing us through piles of homework, stacks of assignments and heaps of projects, the child, though busy, never brings himself to refuse a game of catch or a bowl of steaming noodles. Moving quickly, yet stopping often, he pauses at every flower, chats with every friend and calls to every bird, teaching those who have passed that innocuous age to take time off and enjoy the beauty of life.

Bach's Third Partita leads us into adolescence. No longer a child but not quite a man, he discovers himself – and discovers others. The two movements are of opposing character, one pondering, the other promising, and they show two equally contrasting facets of a teenager's life. He may still be a child, copying others' homework, delving into detective tales and science fiction, or sleeping in class, but deep at heart, his growing self reflects, considers, and draws conclusions about life – indispensable lessons from trying, confusing times.

Time passes quickly, and soon enough, he is a young adult. Growing up seems as frantic as the Symphonie Espagnole, leaping through octaves and grueling spicatto sections. He completes secondary education, enters the army and then pursues his studies, while both quick and lyrical sections of the music deliver a maelstrom of emotions: Love lost and found, hot and fizzling tempers, and the youth's slow discovery of the physical power that becoming a man has rendered him. He learns responsibility, respect, and gains a robust personality that will stick for life.

Congratulations. With the beginning of Spanish Dance, he enters the Rat race, and comes to terms with battling it out against friends old and new in the world of competition and deception. Life, like the startling and surprising syncopation of the music, is fraught with Firsts. His first car, first house, first job, and others come with the wind as he, too, has his first realizations that the world is not such a heroic place that his youthful persona had envisaged. Ambitions buoy him through, and soon he finds himself a member of the society, with newfound family, friends and above all, new commitments.

The last piece, Kabalevsky's concerto, completes the missing link in what Simba of Lion King calls: The Great Circle of Life. As life goes, on, our protagonist sees his own children growing up in his footsteps. They, too, encounter the tribulations that he's been through, and he does his best to instruct his offspring in the wisdom that daily life imparts to a stranger. Reminiscing about past memories and teaching his beloved children form the inspirations for new lessons learnt, and soon his children also teach him their share of knowledge.

The repertoire, though concluded, has one last lesson to teach us: about the brevity of life. Within the short half an hour we have seen the marvelous ups and downs of a man's life, but we have also seen how one generation fades as another surfaces, and knowledge is passed down through the human instinct of oral tradition.

Music, it seems, has brought us through the intricate delicacies of life – and much more remains to be discovered.