When I was about two or three years old, as documented by old home videos, I used to force my dad to sit with me at the piano in our living room, an old stand-up Kimball, and turn the pages of a children’s piano book as I tinkered around, pretending I could read the notes, just like my mom’s piano students did every Friday and Saturday. By the time I was 5, I had officially started piano lessons.
My childhood home was always filled with music, whether it be piano students during their weekly lessons, my mom's old Charles Aznavour CDs, or my dad falling asleep on the couch as the TV blared classic Arabic tunes. I learned classical piano, joined an Arabic youth ensemble playing the riqq (an Arabic percussion instrument), and reluctantly drudged my way through choir rehearsals led by my mother every Friday in our living room. I was lucky to be exposed to the music of various cultures, a byproduct of my mom's ethnomusicology research, for which I shared a fascination.
Without any real consciousness of it, music became an integral part of my identity. While I dreaded piano lessons and music exams, like most kids, I found music to be a form of meditation, something that freed my mind and allowed me to understand emotional intent without ever needing to use words.
I hate to say that I left my love for creating music on the wayside as I entered college. While originally wanting to pursue a music performance major, I got so wrapped up in all of the things expected of a pre-med student: the science courses, the research, a translatable degree. But there were people and moments along the way that helped me realize what I had been missing. Here, I highlight these classes and communities.
My childhood home was always filled with music, whether it be piano students during their weekly lessons, my mom's old Charles Aznavour CDs, or my dad falling asleep on the couch as the TV blared classic Arabic tunes. I learned classical piano, joined an Arabic youth ensemble playing the riqq (an Arabic percussion instrument), and reluctantly drudged my way through choir rehearsals led by my mother every Friday in our living room. I was lucky to be exposed to the music of various cultures, a byproduct of my mom's ethnomusicology research, for which I shared a fascination.
Without any real consciousness of it, music became an integral part of my identity. While I dreaded piano lessons and music exams, like most kids, I found music to be a form of meditation, something that freed my mind and allowed me to understand emotional intent without ever needing to use words.
I hate to say that I left my love for creating music on the wayside as I entered college. While originally wanting to pursue a music performance major, I got so wrapped up in all of the things expected of a pre-med student: the science courses, the research, a translatable degree. But there were people and moments along the way that helped me realize what I had been missing. Here, I highlight these classes and communities.
Honors 210 (American Sabor): The Importance of a Global Musical Experience
The opportunity to take an ethnomusicology class and have it count for Honors credit? Yes, please!
American Sabor (Fall 2018) ended up being one of my favorite classes at UW. I danced the salsa and cha-cha-chá with Dr. Berríos-Miranda. I learned common Latin rhythms from Shannon Dudley. But maybe most importantly, I realized that music is a lens through which we can understand so much about society. Music tells us about culture and tradition, represents a country's evolving history, and provides a medium for advocacy and activism. I was able to learn about the historical significance behind various Latin American musical traditions, and how they transformed and redefined music in the United States. And, as was emphasized by Profesora, I learned to appreciate the people and the culture behind the music. This class pushed me to think critically about the way music has shaped history, and vice versa, and to distinguish between cultural appreciation and cultural appropriation. |
University Chorale: Combining Performance with Community
My first two quarters at UW were void of any musical involvement. It was the first time in my life that this was the case. By spring quarter, I realized that this had left me with a void. Luckily, University Chorale came as a saving grace.
There are few things that have filled me with unencumbered joy and inexplicable fulfillment like Chorale. Making music with others builds community so naturally, allows us to create something bigger than ourselves, something difficult to describe yet so inherently human. In Chorale, I've traveled the world through music: from Lithuania to South Africa to Mongolia, all the way back to Seattle, Washington. From the cramped rehearsal space in Room 213 of the School of Music to the incredibly beautiful stage of Benaroya Hall, Chorale was a safe space, where I was able to express myself artistically, where I met some of the most incredible people, and where I learned not only about myself, but about the power music has in educating us, in reaching the depths of our souls.
There are few things that have filled me with unencumbered joy and inexplicable fulfillment like Chorale. Making music with others builds community so naturally, allows us to create something bigger than ourselves, something difficult to describe yet so inherently human. In Chorale, I've traveled the world through music: from Lithuania to South Africa to Mongolia, all the way back to Seattle, Washington. From the cramped rehearsal space in Room 213 of the School of Music to the incredibly beautiful stage of Benaroya Hall, Chorale was a safe space, where I was able to express myself artistically, where I met some of the most incredible people, and where I learned not only about myself, but about the power music has in educating us, in reaching the depths of our souls.
As I sat on the stage in Benaroya Hall in December with dear friends from the University Chorale, listening to the Seattle Symphony play Fantasia on Greensleeves, I knew this moment would be engrained in my mind forever for whatever reason. Each person on that stage and in that audience had come together for one goal, and a mere blend of pitches and frequencies could create something so moving and important. I went home that night, facing an existential crisis bigger than any I'd seen before, as I realized that I did not want this feeling to just be a distant memory. While I had loved every second of my time in Chorale, I had not yet faced the fact that I didn't want music to just be a hobby. I vowed to make the most of my last six months at UW, and to really devote myself to all things music.
Music 530: Neuroscience Meets Music
As I finalized my schedule for last Winter quarter, I randomly came across Music 530: "Music Cognition." It was as if I had manifested this class into existence. I enthusiastically enrolled in the class, all the while nervous about taking a grad-level seminar with nine music doctorate students. There was a very steep learning curve: I was the only person in the class with any science experience within the decade, and I was also the only person in the class who had not reached a PhD level with my knowledge of music. But being pushed into the deep end turned out to be just what I needed.
I started to learn about a unique field of research that combines neuroscience and music with the goal of providing a neurobiological perspective to music cognition and music psychology. While a lot of this research was very interesting, I found myself to not wholeheartedly agree with the need to look at music scientifically. The field seemed to take away the magic, unless seen through at least a therapeutic lens. So while I realized that this probably would not be a field of research that I would want to continue pursuing, with the help of my peers, I was able to thing about music more philosophically and psychologically, to think critically about the ways in which we are transformed by sound and music. For my final paper, I decided to revisit a concept I had previously studied in a Pain seminar, music therapy, as I now had three more years of experience studying neuroscience. I was challenged to complete this assignment in scientific review paper format. I enjoyed the process of writing this paper, as I could combine scientific research with my own experiences regarding music's emotional affect. |
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Piano Performance at UW: A Return to One's Roots
With the help of Dr. Wyers, our Chorale conductor, who provided me with lots of actionable advice after my timely crisis in December (I say with heavy irony, since this crisis played quite a big role in me falling asleep during my biochem final), I was able to audition for piano lessons at UW's School of Music last winter quarter, and got the opportunity to learn from Dr. Christina Valdés. I found myself spending all of my extra free time in the practice rooms, many of which are filled with old, quirky, temperamental, but charming pianos. Although this reunion with my piano lesson days was short lived due to campus closures in March and lack of access to a piano, I was grateful for the opportunity to get back in the saddle, and knew that music performance was a passion of mine that I would continue to pursue, even as I moved on to the next part of my life.