An aside: for the benefit of my readers following these series of blog posts, I honestly don’t know what came over me, but for the past week I’ve been swept off by a wave of nostalgia regarding my years spent abroad. It was like the memories suddenly came flooding back, so rather than keeping it to myself I’ve decided to share them as it were, in my blog. It’s a cloudy Wednesday afternoon here (with impending signs of rain) as I write this. Claudio Arrau’s wonderful Debussy Preludes is playing in my CD-ROM drive. Now relax as I take you back in time, way back to January 1981…
If my memory serves me correctly, the following day was the first day of school. I woke up early in the morning, lined up for my shower, brushed my teeth, and got dressed (it’s pretty informal in college, just a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and a pair of sneakers) A sea of humanity greeted me as I left my dorm. It looked like thousands of ants walking everywhere on campus. After a quick breakfast at the Student Union, I left for my first class at the School of Music.
There was a flurry of activity in the School of Music, which was to be expected. I found my way to the lecture hall for the first class, and we were soon briefed by the professor about the class, what he’d be covering for the semester, quizzes and exams, assignments, etc. In other words, the usual stuff. I sat next to a few American students (I was the only Asian there) and we exchanged hellos and introductions.
After that had finished I had to go see my Music Adviser, a Mr. Keith Johnson. He’d be my adviser until further notice so I could approach him for help anytime during school hours. I was told to sign up for a practice room which had a grand piano (Piano majors are entitled to this), register myself at the Music Library, and check out all the facilities the School had to offer (the 544-seater Crowder Hall was very nice, and that would be the venue for my Senior Piano recital in April 1984) But the most important thing I had to do on that day was to meet Dr. Roy Johnson, the director of Keyboard Studies at the time.
I reach Dr. Johnson’s room, give a knock on the door and hear a voice saying “Come in.” I enter and exchange hellos with Dr. Johnson for the first time, and I instantly like him. He had a very friendly manner within him and he wanted to know whether I was doing ok, seeing that I had come all the way from England. I mumble a shy yes, and I notice two other gentlemen in the room. They were both piano professors, one was Ozan Marsh and the other was Nicholas Zumbro. Dr. Johnson casually asked them who would like to become my piano teacher. Mr. Zumbro promptly responded with an affirmative yes. I take a second look at him again—at 6’4” at least, he towered over my 6’1” frame. And he was broader than me anytime! Something inside me instantly told me that I’d better not mess with this guy.
Note: I was saddened to hear that Dr. Johnson was senselessly murdered in a robbery attempt on February 28, 1995 just outside Tucson, after he’d finished giving a recital. The killer is on death row.
To cut a long story short, I stuck it out with Nicholas Zumbro as my piano teacher until I graduated in May 1984. Of course I’ve had piano teachers before, but this guy was the cream of the crop. He was a disciplinarian, and he was very strict. If you didn’t do your practicing, you’d better not attend his class, because he would bite your head off, literally. The first time I entered his studio, I was impressed—there were two Steinway grands in the room. I remember vividly my first encounter with the Steinway when he told me to sit down and play something. I tried to launch into a Schubert Impromptu, and my God, the keys were so heavy! Mr. Zumbro noticed my predicament and soon he launched into one of his many mini lectures about tone production. Suffice to say if it were not for him, my fingers would still resemble jelly now.
Come to think of it, these Malaysian students that I teach nowadays don’t realize that they are dancing on a bed of roses. During my years with Mr. Zumbro, I was scolded, mocked, belittled, humiliated, chastised—you name it, he did it. But he did those things because he really cared about my progress. He did this to all of his piano students; I later heard that many had opted for other teachers after a semester with him, but my gut was telling me not to be stupid—this teacher would kick my arse over and over, but I would become a better performer because of it. And I did. With him, everything had to be perfect. He ingrained into me the use and importance of the metronome. His was a no-nonsense approach to piano playing, it was something to be taken seriously, and if you thought otherwise, you know where the exit is!
The cool thing about Mr. Zumbro was his love for Jazz. I’ll never forget seeing him play parts of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto—he’d just tear through it. And when he did some jazz improvisations with other students and myself, that was truly fun. When he gave me a compliment I’d relish it, because it came straight from the heart, he never dished out compliments just to make a student feel better. No way. And soon, he would be dropping hints about a coffee or a Coke, which I’d dutifully buy for him from a Wendy’s across the road.
There was another lesson I learnt from those early days in the university. I had to meet another professor by the name of Paula Fan (she was the director of Accompanying) My Fine Arts Scholarship was dependent on my doing at least 4 semesters of accompaniment at the university. Now at this time in my life, my sight-reading was literally crap, so I sneakily wanted a way out of this. When Miss Fan told me I had to start accompaniment straight away for that semester, I told her very casually that I had a lot of other classes to attend, and would it be possible to defer accompaniment until the Fall? (I was stalling for time) Till this day I will never forget her reply. She bluntly told me, “Either do it now or I will terminate your Scholarship immediately.” I almost fainted right on the spot!!
Yes, she kicked my arse real hard, but I have her to thank for the amazing progress in my sight-reading. I worked like there was no tomorrow to improve it. And improve it I did, until Miss Fan herself was surprised. But that’s for another post. So if any of my present-day students are reading this, consider yourselves very fortunate!
Tags:
Music,
Tucson,
University of Arizona
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