In Memory Of My Grandfather

Wednesday, 3. January 2024

When a person carries the music stuck in your body, there is nobody who is taking it out. My maternal grandfather was bandmaster of the Republican Guard of Peru, and the instrument that played was the clarinet. Excellent musician, with extensive knowledge in all that relates to orchestration and musical composition. At that time when there were technological advances of today, I had to write handwriting all staves for each of the musicians in the band. My grandfather always tried to teach our children (my older brother and me) the performance of the clarinet, but I was not in that case. My older brother was barely learn something, but then, it was never his thing. In particular, I liked the music itself, but I was not in it to be blowing an instrument.

And I was never really fond of run any wind instrument. It is amazing how a smell or aroma, can take us back in time and to recall some passages from our childhood. I would 10 or 11 years when my grandfather taught me music theory on your desktop. That smell of cardboard pentagram, and the smell of ink, (at that time music was written with fountain pen that was steeped in the bottle of ink), came to my mind, I reflected that scene, in this passage I tell them. The year was 1994, I worked in a Chinese restaurant, playing with an orchestra. The orchestra works with me a saxophonist who was also a member of the Republican Guard band of Peru, (Victor Cumpa name).

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