Lesson Seven The Bossa Nova Button — and the iv–V⁷–I Cadence That Loves You Back

Welcome back to the bench, dear friend, and congratulations — if you have made it all the way to Lesson Seven you have already played more music in six weeks than most folks play in a lifetime, and the Sovereign II is just beginning to show off for you! Today we are going to push the big square button down by your right knee, the one that says BOSSA NOVA in those nice teal letters, and we are going to feel what it is like to play a slow Brazilian dance from your very own den.

Don't worry if your left hand feels clumsy at first — mine did too in 1962, when Mr. Lowell taught me my first F-minor at the parish hall and I thought my pinky was going to fall right off! Forty-some years on, that same pinky is typing this very sentence, so take heart. The Sovereign II's AUTO-CHORD feature, when engaged, will play the full chord for you the instant you brush a single key in the lower manual — some students consider this cheating; I consider it learning. Mrs. Doris (Whisk) Anwar of South Bend leaned on AUTO-CHORD for the first eight months and then woke up one Tuesday in 1979 and turned it off forever. She played her granddaughter's confirmation last June without it. So can you.

Now — and this is the part that I want you to practice, not just read past — engage the BOSSA rocker on the upper stop console (you'll find it pinned to the opposite page, where it has always been, ever since the Sovereign II was first wheeled onto the showroom floor in spring of '81). The instant that rocker tilts forward you'll hear the gentle cha-ka, cha-ka, ka-chunk of the automatic rhythm at 96 beats per minute. Let it loop for sixteen bars before you play a single note. Listen to it. Sway. If you don't sway, the bossa won't love you, and you'll have come all this way for nothing.

"A bossa is a hammock, not a march. Let the rhythm rock you first, then add your hands." — from my own teacher Mr. Lowell, 1964

While the rhythm carries on, sneak a peek out the den window. Is it raining? Wonderful — bossa nova was made for rain. Is the sun out? Even better. Is Mr. Whiskers, your cat, on the bench beside you? He was on mine this morning when I was writing this lesson, and he stepped on the LESLIE SLOW tab and made a perfectly nice F-major sound like a ghost in a soup pot. I forgave him. So will you, when it happens to you.

When you have rehearsed the cadence eight or ten times on its own — in tempo, with the BOSSA rhythm clicking away gently underneath — turn the page (metaphorically; the page is right next to this one) and we shall sing together. Moonlight Over Tarpon Springs was composed in 1979 by our beloved house-arranger Vernon (Spatula) Plait, who has written nearly every sing-along piece in this Companion and who keeps an actual spatula on his desk for reasons he has never fully explained.

Settle in. Set the volume to a kind level — perhaps a four on the swell pedal, perhaps a five if the family is out. Take a breath. The Sovereign II will meet you halfway.

warmly,
Yvonne