My 3rd and 4th albums are vastly different, but share common ground in that they inspire(d) a lot of the relaxation I find in playing around at the keys for hours.

First, Deep Forest was a project that sought to preserve indigenous peoples’ music while mixing it with modern electronic flavors. They’ve put out a number of albums featuring music from all over the world, but the first album sticks with me after a few years of listening to it as a teenager.

I received a cassette as a gift from a friend and co-worker at my first job, someone I looked up to in a lot of ways, so that certainly helped me overcome the initial unfamiliarity.

But the influence of the album goes much deeper.

The range in the music is part of what makes the album special to me. Some of the songs are like soundtracks to the sunset, stargazing anthems, melodic hymns for the morning, and driving beats for a jog across the plains.

I used to workout in the garage or go for jogs and bike rides listening to this stuff, and while foreign in lyrics and style, it feels very much like home.

On the subject of home, I grew up learning to play the piano, taking eight years of formal lessons. After the first couple years and opportunities to show off (playing feeble, simplistic variations on well-known tunes), my uncle John would frequently ask what new songs I was learning.

If memory serves, he was the one who first said, “Oh, do you know Pachelbel’s Canon in D?” I did not. He may have even played a few notes of it to see if it would jog my memory.

After that, he often brought an album of instrumental music when he visited–something my parents would enjoy listening to, and something I would learn from. Some of the modern greats like Vince Guaraldi and George Winston.

I don’t have those old albums any more, sadly… but I get a similar enjoyment from the way The Piano Guys bring joy and creative expression to all their remakes of classics and modern tunes.

Over the years, I learned to play more and more by ear. I could hear and identify notes near perfectly, so when I wanted to learn a song, I would play around until I figured out the right notes. For example, I learned a bunch of Guns ‘n’ Roses songs not so much from sheet music, but by sitting there with a Walkman and the cassette tape, stopping-rewinding-starting, playing around until I could imitate the parts I thought captured the original song well.

With Pachelbel’s Canon, I loved the way the music is designed to play upon the same theme, to keep adding layers and complexity to what starts out as a simple piece. (Yes, yes, that’s kind of the definition of “canon” in musical terms, but whatever, I didn’t know that at the time.)

I played around with Pachelbel for hours and hours, figuring out how to duplicate some of the more intricate parts I loved in the recorded versions, or learning to incorporate my own attempts.

What I enjoyed most about sitting there “fooling around” was that it taught me how to flow with my mistakes, maybe even to turn them into an intentional part of the music. An obvious discordant note stands out when played alone, but once you’re used to the scale, you can often hit a wrong note and improvise a way back to what sounds fitting.

Much like in life, an important lesson in playing an instrument is learning how to continue right through the mistakes we are certain to make, and get back on the intended melody without letting the error ruin the whole performance.

Speaking of an almost-ruined performance, the Piano Guys’ video of their version of Pachelbel is a delight.