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I traded my piano for an accordion, a move that turned out to be both space saving and life changing. But first I had to come to terms with the fact that the chunky red celluloid-covered instrument was no “Belly Baldwin” or “Sideways Steinway” as it’s sometimes nicknamed, but a bellows-powered band in my hands.
The piano skills of my youth transferred easily to the instrument’s right-hand keyboard, but working out those buttons on the left side and coordinating the movement of the bellows required a few lessons and many hours of fumbling around blindly in those pre-YouTube days. Then something amazing happened. All the shame and fear I previously felt about playing in public suddenly melted away. I was a one-woman orchestra, rock band, and chorus making lush, beautiful, danceable and singable music—none of which I had never been able to do on the piano or the violin, my second instrument. True, I was just playing “Jambalaya,” “Skaters Waltz” and other simple tunes from Mel Bay’s “Teach Yourself Accordion!” book. But I felt and sounded like a “real” musician. Was it me, or was the magic of the accordion that was producing such joy? Or maybe I was just delusional?
Time to let complete strangers decide. I strapped on the accordion and descended to my nearest Brooklyn subway platform. As soon as I opened the bellows and launched into my three songs, strangers approached with cautious approval. “I haven’t seen one of those in years!” remarked a woman as she dropped a couple of coins in the case. “I used to play one but gave it up for guitar,” said an older guy in a suit. “Can you play ‘Lady of Spain’?" someone asked mockingly. No, but I would later find myself playing this “National Anthem of the Accordion” many times in the future.
I wondered why this lovely-sounding and very forgiving instrument had been absent for so long from our musical consciousness—and why it was held in such low esteem. Those questions led to three decades of playing the accordion, researching the accordion, and ultimately writing a book about the instrument’s amazing cultural history.
“A gentleman,” remarked Tom Waits, riffing off Mark Twain’s saxophone put-down, “is someone who can play the accordion but doesn’t.” Gary Larson captioned one of his most famous Far Side cartoons: “Welcome to heaven! Here’s your harp. Welcome to hell! Here’s your accordion.” American author Ambrose Bierce called it “an instrument in harmony with the sentiments of an assassin.” Wait, what?
Comedians and humorists have been making jokes about accordion players for decades. But the world didn’t always mock the boxy, bellows-driven reed instrument. In fact, when the accordion exploded onto the Berlin scene in 1820s, it was quickly embraced with rapture in many nations and musical genres from polka to Cajun/zydeco to klezmer, later finding its way into classical compositions, jazz, blues and pop. But the accordion really peaked in the 1950s thanks to Dick Contino, the “Rudolph Valentino of the Accordion.” (Anyone who doubts that accordionists could be thirst traps should check out this video).
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