Charlie's Recital

I was Mr. Stamp's
Last piano student
Before he stopped teaching
And giving private lessons

I took lessons with him
For six years
And it was always the same thing

In the lessons, I was fine
But as soon as I had to play
In front of anybody
But Mr. Stamp
My hands would seize up
And I'd burst into tears

My parents used to get so frustrated with me

They'd say--

'What are we paying all this money for if we can't even see how much you've learned?'

Mr. Stamp didn't seem to mind
That I had stage fright

I never saw him play in front of other people either

When I asked him about it
He said--

'The piano and I have a very complicated relationship.'

I didn't really understand that at the time

--How a person can have a relationship with something like a piano

But as I get older
I realize you can relationships
With all sorts of things

Love, talent, passion--all kinds of things

When Mr. Stamp told my parents
He was retiring
They figured it was their last chance
To show me off

I was just about to graduate high school
And once I was away at college
They figured they wouldn't be able to keep forcing me
To take piano lessons

So they booked this gorgeous recital hall
At the local college
And invited everybody we knew

I wanted to die

Mr. Stamp and I rehearsed, and rehearsed, and rehearsed
But the night of the recital
I was still terrified

When the time came for me to go out onstage
I froze up

I begged Mr. Stamp to go out
And cancel the whole thing
While I ran to the nearest bus station
And bought a ticket for Toronto

Mr. Stamp put his hands firmly on my shoulders
Looked me in the eyes
And said--

'I've done you a disservice.  I've listened to your parents tell you that you have to share your talent with others, and the truth is, you don't.  You don't have to.  If you love playing the piano alone in your room or in lessons or wherever, then that's fine.  It's yours.  It's your right to keep it to yourself.  But it's a little bit like taking a beautiful painting and putting a sheet over it.  In some ways, you're taking away its essence.  Its essence is to be shared.  To be shown.  It's up to you.'

I shook my heard
I got angry
I said that was easy for him to say

When was the last time he played piano in front of anybody?

He looked down at the floor
And I could see the shame bubbling up in him
Like a shaken up soda bottle

Then he said--

'I ruined someone's life so I wouldn't have to play the piano anymore.  That's how much I hated it.'

I didn't understand

'Mr. Stamp,' I said, 'You're really good at it.'

He took his hands off my shoulders

'I was,' he said, 'But I wasn't all that interested in sharing it either.'

There was a moment
Where we were both
Standing there

Me and my teacher
A little old man
And his last student
A girl too scared
To even play 'Chopsticks'
In front of her parents

Then he took my hand
Cleared his throat
And said--

'I'll go with you.'

I didn't know what he meant at first
But then he said--

'I'll sit with you, onstage.  We can play together.  Like we do in lessons sometimes.'

I could see that he was as scared as I was
But he was willing to move past it

I wasn't sure if it was for me
Or himself
Or both

But I knew I couldn't say 'No'

'All right,' I said, 'Let's go.'

Mr. Stamp and I
Both had our first piano recital
On the same night

We were both a little rusty
And neither of us looked at the audience
Or said anything
Until the recital was over

But when it was
We stood up
And took our bow together

That was twenty years ago
Although, I decided to come here today
Looking like I did
The day of the recital

I thought Mr. Stamp would appreciate that
And I'll admit that it's fun
Being a teenager again
Even briefly

I give lessons now
And occasionally I get a student
With a case of stage fright

Never as deep-rooted as Mr. Stamps
Or as crippling as mine
But difficult for them to handle

So I walk them out onstage
With my arm around them
The way Mr. Stamp walked me out onstage that night

It's my way of saying
I'm proud of you
And I know you can do this

Then I sit down
And play their first song with them
So that they'll know
I know what they're feeling

Mr. Stamp taught me that you can't ask anybody
To face their fears
While you stand behind your own

I'll never forget playing next to Mr. Stamp that night

I'd love to tell you
That I'm as good a teacher as he was
But I'm not

But who knows?

Maybe one day
That'll change