House Concert

Old college friends of Jip’s drop by now and then. Usually they come as a big group, bringing with them a playful mood that takes everyone back to life in the dorms.

Sometimes Jip is excited and welcoming, other times she surprises everyone by dismissing them after about 15 minutes. (When sent away, we’ve learned to retreat to the kitchen for a few minutes while she adjusts herself to the idea of a visit. After some time alone, she usually wonders aloud, “Where did everybody go?” and then we pick up where we left off.)

Yesterday a gang showed up with a guitar. They stayed most of the afternoon, singing the Thai equivalents of “We Shall Overcome” and other protest songs that Jip and her crowd used to know by heart. She didn’t join in the renditions, but neither did she get tired of hearing them, clapping vigorously after each tune came to an end.

As they tore themselves away, the guests were already planning the next performance/reunion here.

Music Lessons

Being married to me means Jip has put up with a lot over the years. Her latest trial is having to listen as I practice my latest musical instrument, the Thai hammered dulcimer.

The lousy results I’m producing so far stem mostly from my not being able to guess at all what note should come next in a given song. If I had thought about it for even a second, I suppose I would have known that the musical scale here isn’t the same as what I grew up with. To my ear the notes appear to be slightly out of tune, maybe because there are seven of them instead of eight per octave, each exactly the same interval apart. I’m told that only the octave notes can be matched exactly to the Western ones—the others all sound to us round eyes as if they’re in the gap.

As a result music here isn’t written the way I learned it back when I took piano. In fact it’s often not written at all. People learn songs by listening and memorizing and improvising rather than by reading them off of a static piece of paper.

More on this subject is sure to follow as I bluster my way through weekly lessons. Meanwhile, here’s a video of the first tune our teacher assigned us. The anonymous musician plays the way I’m supposed to (but don't yet) sound at this point in my musical journey. Happily, Jip isn't complaining too loudly. She even asks to be serenaded now and then.