Am I really “all about that bass”?
It was a quiet day, the weather somewhat questionable as it had been for some time. Late January and rain showers do not mix, especially when the temperature is bound to drop 20 degrees before February. I didn’t feel especially inclined to read my book that morning. I wasn’t in the most upbeat mood and had taken to sitting in silence, surrounded by my cats. I was unsure what I wanted to do, but I decided eventually that I would practise playing bass for my band class the coming week. It wasn’t the worst plan; in fact, it was probably fairly responsible of me. But considering I don’t own a bass, it wasn’t a great plan either. And so, I turned to the closest instrument I owned …
As a 14-year-old girl, I’ve done my fair share of elementary-school classes. Math, Social Studies, English, French, Religion, Music. I’ve always enjoyed Music class, aside from the time when I cracked my head open falling from the choir bleachers in kindergarten. But that was a long time ago. I probably got to skip the rest of the day, too, so I’m sure I didn’t care all that much. In Music class we got to learn how to play the guitar, the recorder (pre-COVID), the boom whackers and everyone’s go-to X word, the xylophone. Elementary-school music was a good time. We even got to make our own song using GarageBand in grade 6. It was probably my favourite class, although that was probably because I found it incredibly easy to get good marks, with very little effort.
We went through a few music teachers throughout my elementary-school years; one who taught us all the notes, all the instruments, all the songs for the Christmas Concert; one who brought us tea once a week and held dance parties during class time. And then there was the last one, the one who made us build ukuleles and who referred to themself explicitly in the third person. Don’t get me wrong—this last Music teacher was a great person, and building ukuleles is an interesting thing to do. The problem was that they were trying to teach around 25 different students how to measure, glue and sand their ukuleles at the same time. Not to mention that 12-year-olds don’t tend to have a very long attention span. But then we were threatened with summer school. A lot of people hadn’t even wanted to do this in the first place, but that threat made them get their act somewhat together. We ended up having to stay inside during lunch to work on our ukuleles, giving up our free time to avoid summer school. For ukuleles. But hey, avoiding minus 24-degree weather and no teacher supervision? I, for one, was not complaining.
Eventually, we all finished our ukuleles. To my surprise, they looked pretty good considering the dedication everyone had lacked. Significantly. They were well-sanded, edges round and smooth. The dark stain we had painstakingly applied everyday was well worth it; they were a deep chestnut colour that brought to mind cozy fireplaces and hot apple cider. They were all tuned perfectly, notes ringing out clearly and harmoniously. Everything was perfect. When the end of the school year came, we all brought our respective ukuleles home. You may think that our parents would have been annoyed by our loud playing. But do you remember when I said we had also learned how to play the recorder? That wasn’t the only reason that we weren’t spending our days exuberantly strumming our little hearts out, though. We’d spent so long making the ukuleles that we had neglected to actually learn how to play them! So, they sat in our homes, collecting dust, waiting for the opportune moment to shine …Which brings us back to the beginning of my story, which you’ve probably forgotten by now; I wanted to practise bass but didn’t own a bass, and so turned to the closest instrument I could find. I’m sure you’ve already put the pieces of the puzzle together, so I’ll save the suspense. The instrument in question was my ukulele. After wiping off the layers of grime (I’m exaggerating … I do clean my room and its contents), I began to play. It was slightly out of tune so I tuned it by ear until it suited my purposes well enough. But it was all for naught because it was a ukulele, not a bass. Maybe that was the treble!
