When we purchased our player piano, it came with 170+ player
rolls – some dating back to the ‘teens’ of the 1900s.
If you’ve never seen one of said rolls, they’re quite
interesting. They look like the old-time official perforated cards that the
government used to send out. Yes, I’m that old . . .
The piano generates suction, which pulls the roll in. Then
these holes allow the suction to break in very specific places, causing the corresponding
note to play. Yeah, it makes no sense to me, either. And it has been explained
and explained. Look! A squirrel!
All I know – or care – is that when you insert the roll in a
certain way, flip this lever, and pump the pedals, music emerges.
Nice music.
Music that no human being – unless he is equipped with four
hands and/or thirty fingers – could play.
An aside here – Husby and I, while in Buffalo, New York, visited
the last of the piano roll makers, QRS. And actually watched one of their
musicians play out a new roll. And I use the world ‘play’ deliberately. He was
seated at a large apparatus that vaguely resembled a piano. On steroids. It was
hooked by numerous appendages to another apparatus that was marking a long
strip of paper.
The whole process was fascinating. And busy enough to keep
even my attention.
Back to my story . . .
As I mentioned, our piano has to be pumped to work. So, you
have to work to make it work.
You realize just how much effort it takes when you’ve played
three or four rolls in succession.
Whew!
Fortunately we had lots of eager feet and legs.
I remember, years ago, when I was on one of my fitness kicks,
I asked Husby for an exercise bike.
And he bought me four new rolls for the piano.
Now I can see his reasoning – beautiful music AND lots of
exercise – then, I wasn’t as impressed.
Our player piano has been the focal point for our family for
an entire generation. Tonight, I’m introducing the next generation.
You’ll probably be able to hear us . . .
