OF CHARLIE PUTH AND PERFECT PITCH

Let's Marvin Gaye and gerriron.

Part 1.

We'll get to that in a bit but hear me out. You do not have to believe this part of the post. I have done and do a few things but I do not think I am yet as invested as I was in the only four years that I did formal music training at Ntare Sch school. Now, I've tried soccer, basketball, lawn and table tennis and volleyball. From very obvious dribble attempts, mosquito weight to late challenges I was a good student of, "if you miss the ball, don't miss the leg". Super telle had more realistic weight than the real ball when hit by Ndahagire Angel... Kinda like Roberto Carlos. Butter fingers and mountaineering height made sure that though I was a good shooter in the D (why is it called that?) I always avoided layups. Most guys on the baco were like Norman Blick and Ring Acuil Banggol. 

Aside from the esoteric slang they spewed, every time I marked one, he shouted "mismatch" and dunked miles above my head like I didn't exist. My biggest trick is I'd put my hand under the ball if you tried to dribble show off. I thought it was clever but the umps cried fowl. I still carry the volley ball when I try to set and my Barcelona service is not as fast as Izara Ambrose's. I tried cricket for a day and all my bowl attempts were stones. I think Carbon Davis is a witch. The one time I tried rugby, Zeno Othieno Owora broke all my joints and then I noticed Ken Ken Mwebembezi and Karanganwa Michael with their chubby cheeks and one pack could format and reboot my dental formula in one scrum gone bad. I tried athletics and Kakeeto Martin doubled me before the second round and I was discontinued. So lame (the rules) ikr!

But I was a beast in the treble clef. I was a constant fixture in the story of Ntare school MDD from 2002 to 2005 in which years we made national rounds for the first time and I don't know if they've managed an appearance since. These were the years of Ganzi Muhanguzi Isharaza and the epic Tonix Allan.

Till I see you again.

Part 2

So as I was saying. It was more fun to harmonize 16 bars in two inversions without worrying about consecutive fifths and overlapping notes. How cool is transcribing an aural tape with pin point accuracy of all the intervals and cadences. Forget about boring valences, nothing beats being able to decode hundreds of pages of a Mozart or Haydn score and being able to recite all the developments in classical, romantic and baroque periods. (Too bad I couldn't use such skill to recite Napoleon Bonaparte and Mansa Musa).

But those skeleton sticks with short feet are not everyone's cup of tea. Sijui quiver, crotchet, minim (I think this was Oidu Simon Peter's name)! The Julliards and Berkley of this world are set up to train people in the weird language called music but training is one thing and genius another. Look at Messi and Bendtner or Antonio Valencia then you'll get the point.

Maybe it's true for everybody but I can effortlessly memorize any melodic EP in perfect sequence with one listen. It is second nature to replay hundreds of thousands of songs from as far back as 1994 but I don't even know what the valency of carbon monoxide is. I think my prowess though was even far from relative pitch. The one time I won an award for conducting a choir, we sang off key. I knew the time signatures alright but I confused the harmonies. In my early years of worship leading, I always transposed a semitone higher than the keyboard; it is possible I still mix tenor and alto notes. Anyhow, my voice broke, Uganda happened, we all chased other dreams. (still glad I didn't have to do maths and chemistry though!) Shurrupz to ma pips Joshua Storm and Muhumuza Trevor Peter. You kept the music thing going. 

Yet when we talk of Charlie Puth, we mean 1 in 10,000 people alive. We mean Mariah Carley, Stevie Wonder, Freddy Mercury and Beethoven.

We don't talk anymore

Part 3.

My coitus with music has been largely limited to expression of faith and that's my chosen monogamy. Yet having picked a few syllables in the dialect, every so often I eavesdrop on warrup. So this boy was trained by his mother a music teacher to play piano at 4 years, he broke his first teeth on the middle C (maybe playing "pressure on the G string" ) and the rest is his story. He turned weirdo when he would come home saying, "mummy, the wind is blowing in F sharp". This earned him a free bed in a psychiatric procedure.

From classical training, to jazz gigs, you tube frenzy; he landed on the Ellen show with a more seasoned friend who had enlisted him to cover Adele. Years down the road, the friend is auditioning for an 100K USD recording contract at the voice, while Charlie is churning out multi platinum hits and scoring sound tracks for the biggest movie franchises.

Hardly anybody talks about his beat boxing. In the wake of Pentatonix and the several capella acts out there, you know that beat boxing is not that easy. But this beast of vocal producer belts out over four layers of vocal arrangements in one breath to entertain ladies at a bar. It's so good that the likes of Ariana Grande use his vocal twist clap as an intro to their hits and he doesn't care for credit.

Attention.

Part 4

He didn't get me until the buzz about voice notes . There are Sia, Ed Sheeran, Clean Bandit and Adele in the hierarchy of contemporary songwriting. But this kid moves around with an iPhone arranging progressions for instruments he can't play in real life. No wonder as a kid, he once played a one hour mass from memory when the organist boycotted ash Wednesday. I always wondered how lady Gaga could write poker face, just dance and Alejandro under ten minutes in a world of one hit wonders.
It reminds me of the first time I saw Prophet Elvis Mbonye. Mind you, I had been around pentecostal charismatic circles for a good decade or so, so Brother Jero and the gimmicks of the penitent had nothing on me. I knew that in Africa, we believed that the dark forces could pull a few rabbits out of the hat but we preferred a cold snack on Sunday morning in a lifeless pew. Some prefer the old hymnal procession and others the loud kiwempe three chord antecedent and consequent choruses. For some, it is the old black clap clap frenzy and for others the rock over produced Australian vibe with a projector and in accents they can't repeat.

Being the keen observer, I saw a genuineness I had never encountered, I saw originality and authenticity incarnate. He seemed not to audition for anything or smile for that fish eye shot. He walked like a man on a pilgrimage skirting through a slight detour on a foreign island. Then he started picking names, birthdays and phone numbers and I was like wt*?! But there was no fear or condemnation and such creepy feelings around jaja stuffs. Then he seemed to love everyone, and then..... Okay this might not end. Point is, wonders never cease and my idea of church was rearranged like a Wandegeya rolex.

So back to Charlie, guy drops a salt shaker on the table and says that the resultant sound is between A and B#. Like whas goinon? I took a seat. These days I seat faster than someone wearing a pair of torn trousers. In fact, I carry some seats in my wallet in case I meet that one person who dwarfs the status quo and shows me something I thought inhumanly possible.
END