When Evelyn Glennie was young, she lost her hearing.
Her doctor said she would have to give up piano.
Evelyn's parents didn't agree.
I remember finding the movie at the library.
I remember thinking that a deaf person couldn't be a musician.
I remember thinking there was such a thing as silence.
I remember thinking, for a good ways into the documentary, that I must have misunderstood the blurb on the cover because clearly, this is a hearing person.
I remember trying very hard to understand.
How do you hear?
How do you?
With my ears.
I hear with my whole body, says Evelyn Glennie.
I remember being riveted by her snare drum solo in Grand Central Station. She played with her whole body, her face, her hair. When she was done and people clapped, she seemed suddenly embarrassed. Out on the streets she is easily confused by the many sounds coming from everywhere, whereas in an empty warehouse, or a concert hall, or a quiet restaurant, she's a star.
I remember thinking Fred Frith seems like a great guy.
I have many favorite scenes, but one I especially like: Evelyn playing in a restaurant in Japan, with an impromptu drum set she assembled with cups and kitchen utensils.