I started playing piano in 1962. I started lessons in 1965, and by 1968, three teachers had given up trying to teach me to read music. I could play by ear at a far higher level than the John Thompson Piano Method books they had me on. Fortunately, the last teacher had the foresight to know that if they kept punishing me and trying to make me fit the mould, The Method would suck all the creativity out of me. I was basically taught the mechanics of operating a piano, and learned the rest by doing. I went on to teach myself to play drums, then bass, then guitars, all without reading a note of sheet music. I learned to do it well enough to play in garage bands, then real bands, then in studios.
I have a great ear and a memory like a steel trap. If I haven’t figured it out myself, you can show me how it goes. Following that, I’ll play it back to you, verbatim. That’s how the last piano teacher caught on to what I was doing. He showed me how the pieces were supposed to sound, and I played what he played, by memory. One day he played one wrong, and I played it wrong, too.
I fail to comprehend the reading of music. It may as well be hieroglyphics. I would have to figure out the chords one note at a time: this is this note, on this line or space. I play it with this finger on this key. The next is this note, and this one, and this one. I play them together for two beats, and then there’s the next chord, where the process starts again. By the time I’d figure out the first line, the band would be finished the song and have gone out for a beer. Just show me how it goes. Within minutes, I can come up with a head arrangement for full band. Give me some time, and I can come up with a really good one.
My wife, on the other hand, has two degrees in music and is a piano teacher. She can’t improvise to save her life, and is loathe to try. The Method ruined her for life. With the sheet music in front of her, she can scare you to death with her brilliance. Without it, she is lost. For me, that’s really frustrating. I have a world-class musician in the house with whom I can’t jam. Oh well, them’s the breaks.