I am deaf to music, but very responsive. From childhood. I love singing, but I don’t listen. "Oh frost, frost" in my performance produces an indelible impression and is remembered forever. It was discovered long ago. I only went to second grade when my parents came to mind to give me a musical education. My uncle, who graduated from the Conservatory, taught, and then, for some time, even was a director at a local music school, listening to me, stood by the horn, but gave in to the pressure of his older brother and I was counted. My uncle, who felt some responsibility for his future disciple, gave me an old mandolin and a kind of fist in which a small violin could be recognized by the joint attached.
I have to say that the gifts interested me little and only from the point of view of the design and all kinds of screws, called for some reason crocks. At that time I was much more occupied by the two books held from my father’s library.
"Sambo system - martial arts" Harlampiyev, with very interesting pictures of captures and throws and a thick textbook of Glinka's chemistry with incomprehensible, but fascinating words. And another hamster.
This red bastard once again bitten his cage and ran out of the closet. Feeling the child's responsibility for the beast, and having spent a day for his excavation from under the closet, I repaired the cage. The Wire. As a wire, strings from mandolin and violins, bitten from there by boxers, were exclusively suited. So that no one would notice, I pulled into the place of the strings an ordinary paper spat. Once upon a time, all kinds of cakes and cakes were wrapped in the shops. After trying the result and not noticing any difference in the sound, I immediately forgot about the instruments and started testing Harlampiev on the roller from the couch.
My father liked the cell. I would probably have been praised, but my uncle, deeply indignated by my barbaric attitude toward the Mandolini, complained to his father and his work remained invaluable. My father, thank God, has a wise man and the punishment he has invented has completely arranged me. I was banned from doing music.
You will think, what a matter, - you can sing and learn from the plates, - I decided, - I got out of my mom's closet the favorite disc with Barina and thus the frost on the other side. After a week of exercises, the couch roll broke on the seam, patiently my grandmother began to tie her head with a puffy cloth, covering her ears with two layers of it, and the hamster lost appetite and the desire to get out of the cage. But I learned the song about the cold without any music school. There was only one thing that bothered me: the complete absence of listeners. The grandmother referred to sudden migraines, the mother to fatigue and out-of-the-box control MOPIs. Krupskaya, my father went on a new trip, and all my friends considered singing a completely "deffchish" thing. The only listener was a hamster, who, as I now understand, had no other way out of the cage. I am lucky in life. It is always good in large quantities.
Not a couple of days passed, as the doors of our class opened and in them, interrupting the lesson, flew our new singing teacher - a very young girl in a fashionable mini shirt. We got up and sat down. After whispering a little with our class lady, she announced the following: the concert of the school choir and solo performers planned for tomorrow is under threat of disruption. All performers and half the choir fell down with angina, eating ice cream, after singing out in a neighboring school. And if the choir still sings somehow in a semi-composition and is already rehearsing, then solo singers can only knock in the palms at home. Need a replacement urgently. Can any of us sing a Russian folk song?
“Well, I can,” I stood up and turned red of embarrassment, proudly looking around.
My classmates just learned one. The singer’s name is.
Sitting next to Kolka twisted his finger at the whisker, and the uneducated Lecha just grabbed. But the cute Marinka turned around, shaking her beads, and smiled interested. I had to red even more.
Do you know, dear friend, the notes? asked unexpectedly.
the initiative from below a beautiful lady, - and how many times to you repeat that
Is it inappropriate for adults to “mortalize”?
- Well, I know, - without blinking my eye, I lied, without seeing the way back, -
My uncle is the director of the music school.
The iron argument was impressive.
- After the lessons go to the music class, - said the singing teacher and
He joyfully walked away with a beautiful pop.
Lord, how naive our teachers were, how they believed the children, I think now. Now that I am thirty years older than the then seventeen-year-old singing teacher with the humiliating nickname “singer.”
And then, I barely finished the remaining lesson and went to the third floor of the school, where such a little entrance was usually ordered. Well, unless you are dragged into the teacher's room for disassembly, for smoking in the toilet, a broken friend's nose, a removed glass, or some kind of innocent childhood nonsense, such as "smoke-ups" from the roof.
I was waiting in the music class.
“Stand up next to me,” said the singer, sitting behind the piano and moving away.
The Fingers. I heard unfamiliar music.
Probably going off, I understood.
Does the pace suit you? The singer asked.
What is the rhythm, if not the music? I thought, she was on.
Bayonne must be played like a record, and the piano here is not on any side.
It turned.
Looking for the eyes and waiting a little, I still decided not to give up:
A normal pace, but this is the tone.
What is tonality? The teacher was a bit upset, I was always like that.
- But I would add minorities, - I broke it, giving out the unknown to me.
The words I heard from my uncle. And softened, pointing with his fingers,
A little bit.
Luckily, our classes were interrupted by a school technician.
Anyone who crashed into the cabinet with a shovel and a cane.
“Everyone, Galka, turn out,” she whispered as she began to clean up, “again before
The brands gathered. Go now, do not hinder work. Boy to Home
Just try not to do anything. We know them. Nothing to him.
To rehearse, he tormented the whole entrance with his songs.
This is the truth: I could have lost something on the road. Aunt Luba lived in a neighboring apartment, was friends with my grandmother and knew me as a polished person since birth. And we went home.
Before the beginning of the concert, all performers crowded behind the scenes of the acting hall and worried before the performance in anticipation of the crowd.
Under the feet of the speakers was a school ball. The ball is not a ball, but a dog and a universal pet. Thin and furry in his species, he lived at the dining room, was fed up to a spherical state, as a result of which, was good to madness and cared for unhealthy child loves with the patience of a plush dog. The concert finally began.
I acted second. Waiting for my announcement, I went out on stage, worshipped the audience, put my right leg forward and graciously nodded the taper in the face of the singer:
Let’s go, or the people have waited.
She played, I sang without getting in touch, but penetratingly loudly and very, as I thought, mentally.
The people in the hall moved, sitting next to Marinka Leha (which is good) applauded, and I continued my tragic song, taking a little higher.
Among the spectators there were rare approving, as I thought, laughter.
And I sang with as much feeling as I could. When I arrived at my
The women in the room were not only laughing, but also crying. I wanted to rejoice in the reaction of the audience as they started singing behind me. Without interrupting the songs, I turned around: just to the left of me, on the stage, Sharik sat and swung, shaking his head. He didn’t get any quieter than me, but in the tactic he got better.
“The parasite,” I thought and sang, “cannot come out earlier.
In the room, listening to the sad sound, everyone cried. My thoughts were interrupted by the angry voice of the director:
“Who let this cattle on the stage,” asked the director, “take it away.”
and immediately.
Physruck, geographer and labourer - all the school men rushed to follow the instructions. The music ended, but I sang to the end, not paying attention to the run behind my back. I don’t know how Balliku, but I’ve never been beaten like that again.
But one question still plagues me: why did neither the physician, nor the geographer, nor the laborer have any doubts about what cattle the director meant. Maybe he pointed his finger? This is unfair to students.