I have a 13-year-old Clavinova piano. I helped my friend Neil buy it when we were both in university and he wanted to learn to play. He played it a bit, but with the rigors of university life, it ultimately became a plant holder. When I moved from Ottawa to a tiny hamlet in the Northwest Territories, I let my sister have our Montreal-built Lesage spinet piano, knowing the climate change would be hard on the instrument; besides, there would be no one around to tune it.  I bought the Clavinova from Neil and brought it north with me. The Yamaha Clavinova is a great instrument as far as electric pianos go. I enjoy the touch and the tone of it far more than most other electric pianos I’ve tried. There’s no getting around the fact, though, that it’s really just a specialized computer, and no matter how much programming you do, there’s no way to capture every aspect of the real thing. You can’t open up the front of the instrument and show your student how the hammers hit the strings. You can’t silently press down a high C and ask your daughter to hit middle C and show her how the strings both sound through sympathetic vibration. But who cares, right? You can play the darn thing and it sounds good, doesn’t it? I’ve been casually looking for an upright piano to buy in Whitehorse for the past couple of years but haven’t yet found one to my liking. When I would tell people I was looking for a piano, though, I couldn’t articulate why I wanted my kids to learn to play on a real piano, rather than an electric one. Was I just being a snob, somehow? Last summer, I got to know Daniel Janke when he produced my demo recordings. He has a gorgeous grand piano in his recording studio and he’s meticulous about keeping the humidifier filled. Also, I bet he has his piano tuned at least 10 times a year, since every new recording project necessitates a fresh tuning. I found that I really enjoyed working with Daniel and asked him at one point if he would accompany me for a concert. He turned me down because he was going to be out of town, but also remarked that the venue didn’t have a piano. “Well, that’s what I have a gigging piano for,” I said. “But they always sound terrible,” he replied. That’s how I learned that Daniel has never yet found an electric piano he likes.  There’s just something missing to the sound and the experience. So at least it wasn’t just me being a snob. My friend Eric gave me the missing piece of the puzzle one evening after supper. He is a keen pianist, and managed to find a beautiful upright grand soon after moving to Whitehorse.  We had an impromptu after-dinner concert and talked about the experience of learning to play piano. “I don’t think it would really have grabbed me,” he remarked, “if I hadn’t learned on a real acoustic piano.  It was the resonance of that big instrument that really drew me in.” Resonance! Yes, that’s it.  When you play a real piano, the whole instrument vibrates with music, not just the speakers. The strings sing and the wood resounds.  It moves. The whole instrument speaks to you and comes alive. Playing the real thing physically connects your body with the music in a way an electric piano can’t quite manage. Of course, there are things you can do with an electric piano that you can’t do with an acoustic, just as there are things you can do with shortening that you can’t do with butter. But sometimes, you just need to have the real thing. I may keep the Clavinova. I’m rather fond of it. But I’m still looking for an upright piano to fall in love with, an instrument to dance with, an instrument that resonates with me. And I hope my kids will feel that resonance, too. [caption id="attachment_460" align="aligncenter" width="500"] Just try doing this with an electric piano![/caption]