Look at them, see how they appear. Did you ever think how it really is? How does it feel to be a classical musician?

So today for the first time you will have an opportunity to glance into the inner world of a classical musician.

The classical (classical musician) is a common continental mammal; it nests particularly in large families and communicates only with its own species.

Yes, you all heard about it, you all saw it; you all thought it is cute.

Mistake.

Behind every classical, a long, rough and humiliating life story is concealed.

Classicals – the tragic tale of living creatures that have no life.


It all begins with this couple of humans that call themselves – your parents.

They stuck in your hands this weird thing approximately when you're still a fetus, both smiling a smile full of Joy and Pride.

"Here Velvale… we bought you… a trombone!!

You take the weird thing into your hands and immediately…

"Watch out! It cost us hundred of thousands of dollars!!!"

Of course you don't really understand what's going on, but this doesn't bother the couple of psychopaths. They drag you to the darkest dungeon they could find, slam the door and a brief moment later a scream reaches you, a scream that will accompany the most beautiful years of your childhood "Now practice! Two hours at least" Years later they will tell you that it all started one evening as they were watching T.V and suddenly saw this Yasha, Misha Or Grisha and you were so impressed that you immediately demanded to play this instrument.

Naturally, originally you were at the pre talk phase and the only thing you wanted was that they will turn off this horrible noise. So you looked at the T.V and cried.

Mistake.

In the next stage, the pair of Fascists decides that you must go to the best teacher on the planet! So you find yourself on the doorway of the glorified teacher, already from the corridor the sounds of a gentle, soft Opera accompany you…

"What are you doing?! This is terrible! Terrible! terrriiibbbllleeeeeee!

I'm dying!!!"

You knock on the door. The teacher opens it with a huge fake smile smeared all over her face: "you must be Velvale".

You nod, terrified.

slowly what was supposed to be your childhood becomes a tough exercise regimen that wouldn't have embarrassed an East German wrestler.

While kids your age play soccer or jump the rope, you are stuck in your dungeon doing the most stupid thing on earth – Scales!

An invention that you honestly hope that who ever it was who invented it is suffering for eternity in hell, which is more or less what you are experiencing at the moment.


And as time goes by one day you arrive to – Talma Yalin!!!

Mistake.

The first year comes along and if you thought the torture have come to an end then as previously said you have a big…mistake.

As if it is not enough that you're a freshman (and believe me it's enough) you are also a classical, a classical and a freshman.

Instantly you find yourself best friends will all the other classicals, after all they don't have life either.

Even though you try to evade, try to be cool, try to talk to the non classicals, they only turn their back at you and laugh.

You are not cool, you are not groovy. You are a classical musician.

Submissively you accept things as they are. Make peace with the classical inside of you.

Thus four years go by. You learn exactly what kind of breakfast Brahms liked to eat in the mornings and to what type of man Tchaikovsky was attracted.

You reach the end of your terrifying path of mistakes and understand that you will never be a Yasha or a Misha and most certainly not a Grisha.

And that other then urgent hospitalization in a qualitative psychiatric institute and lobus amputation, there aren't many things that can help you.

So all that remains for you to do is tell everybody-

Thank you.


Talma Yalin is the music school in which Shai has spends his high school years.