They said classical music is dead. Having been playing classical music for more than half of my life, I do not know how they came to that conclusion. But when people asked me why I’m into classical music, I found myself speechless and wondering why myself. Now, though, I have an answer. They said classical music is dead, but on May 26, 2013, the day of my premier piano recital, I hoped that I proved them wrong.
Growing up playing classical music has given me ups and downs. I started taking piano lessons when I was three years old. I did not have a piano back then, so I crafted a cardboard piano bigger than what my little fingers could play on. This lasted for a while, until eventually my teacher saw my potential and my parents were driven to buy a piano. I was in second grade and I was ecstatic. It felt like Christmas when I first saw the shiny black exterior and the smooth white keys. Playing on it was like getting to know a friend: slowly, then more intimately, as the years went by.
Before long, my mother decided to enroll me under other teachers, to tap into my “potential.” She had so much faith in my ability, and was not content with just one teacher. Thus, I had several piano lessons a week, under different teachers. It soon became too much, and a little expensive, so we settled for one teacher. Still, my mother was not impressed by her strategy, and she enrolled me under another. One teacher hit my fingers with a stick every time I made a mistake. Enraged, my mother moved me to another teacher. And so it went until my freshman year in high school, when we found a teacher who took me under her wing and taught me how to fly.
She was the same as my past teachers yet vastly different. She broadened my repertoire with pieces and styles of classical music that I had not learned before. She pushed my limits. Soon I was learning all the movements of sonatas and rhapsodies and other great musical compositions. After my first recital in her tutelage, she suggested I play in my own solo recital. My family was all for it. I was reluctant.
The idea of playing classical pieces alone for about an hour with a large audience watching scared me, to be honest. Nevertheless, my teacher and my family pushed me to do it. I started working on my repertoire, while my mother worked on the details like the venue, catering, guest list, etc. All the while, when we were planning and I was practicing, there was this nagging self-doubt in the back of my head. I was uncertain that I could pull it off. I got frustrated when I couldn’t play the music right. I stayed up all night practicing the same lines over and over again.
But while at it, I realized I wanted it. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted this recital to be a success. And in that moment, I accepted the fact that everyone was waiting for me at the finish line, and it was only myself standing in my way. I got rid of the self-doubt, and began to believe in myself.
My apotheosis started mundane, but ended up amazing. That afternoon, naturally, I was extremely nervous. Everything was set up; all the guests came, and all I had to do was perform. I said a prayer, went up the stage, sat down on the piano bench, and played.
I began slowly and simply, with Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Prelude in C Major” and “Two-Part Invention No. 1.” Then I gradually picked up the pace with Carl Emanuel Bach’s “Solfeggietto” and Franz Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C# Minor, 1st movement,” subsequently winding down with a composition from the Romantic period, Claude Debussy’s “Clair de Lune,” and a contemporary piece, Nicanor Abelardo’s “First Nocturne.” I took a break and my sister played an intermission before I played my final piece.
That piece was the one it took me 10 months to learn and master. It was the epitome of my hard work, of all the times my hands were probably cramping but I didn’t notice because I was lost in the music. It embodied my passion for playing piano, how I would sacrifice sleep just to keep practicing. And so after almost a year of preparing for that moment, I took a deep breath as the spotlight came on once again, and played Ludwig Van Beethoven’s “Sonata No. 14.”
More often called “Moonlight Sonata,” it is one of the most beautiful pieces ever composed. Its first movement is the adagio, which is slow and full of passages that sound gloomy and heartrending. The second movement is the allegretto, which is light, graceful and sweet. The third movement, and the hardest part to play, is the presto agitato, which, as the term suggests, is played very fast, with agitation and excitement.
I suppose this piece also symbolizes my piano journey. The adagio is the first part, full of coping with struggles and trying to come out of the shadows. The allegretto is the part when I became better, when I started performing in public and winning contests. And the presto agitato is this, the climax, the part of my life when I built a name for myself, when people knew me not just as “Loreben,” but as “Loreben, the pianist girl.” And that, for me, is well worth the journey.
The recital was a success. All the guests congratulated me on how well I had done, how far I had come, and how privileged they were to hear my music. I thanked them, but what made me happiest was my parents’ proud smiles—the greatest reward of the night. They had worked as hard as I did. Their efforts to send me to piano lessons in the course of 13 years are enough to make my heart burst with love for them. They are my biggest fans, and I thank them most of all.
My journey has only just begun. We all want to leave a mark in this world. I want to leave a legacy in music. I dream of playing at Carnegie Hall, for great audiences that truly appreciate classical music. And I believe I am on my way. Last year I began taking violin lessons together with piano. In my opinion, the world cannot get enough classical music. I am making it my personal mission to get more people to see that this timeless music is not lost. That is the mark I want to leave.
Playing classical music has taught me lessons that I have incorporated into my life. One lesson is that nothing good is ever easy. Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Liszt, among others, were geniuses, and their works were not made to be learned overnight. These take time and a huge amount of practice. The same goes for schoolwork and the like. Anything done halfheartedly is never of good quality. Also, although practice makes perfect, practice without passion is senseless. You can keep doing something over and over again, but if you do not love it, you will end up unhappy.
Another lesson: Test your limits. If you settle for just “okay,” you will never know what you are truly capable of. One of the most important things I learned is that perseverance pays. If you are truly determined, you will not go wrong. And look where that resolve has gotten me. I got to play in my own premier piano recital! How many people can say that?
Thirteen years of playing piano have made me a better person and trained me to keep going. Even if you press the wrong keys and make mistakes, you can still make great music. So I will just keep playing. I have yet to know where it will lead me. The next time someone asks me “Why classical music?” I’ll say: “Why not?”
Loreben Tuquero, 16, is a senior at Aquinas University of Legazpi Science High School. She is the resident pianist of Porta Sancta Ensemble, a choir that serves in Our Lady of the Gate Parish Church in Daraga, Albay.