Con Tour

Kevin was walking back to the Conservatorium. He thought it would be a good idea to practise more singing before a late class that day.

He thought about where his friends and new acquaintances were going after lunch. Nina and Xavier would be going back to the Film School and QUT Gardens Point. As for Marina, Matt, Sabrina and Joe, they were either headed home or back to their university. Well, not Marina.

“So, we’re the songwriters, eh, Kevin?” Marina was walking alongside Kevin to the Con.

“Eh? Ah, yeah,” Kevin stammered a bit. “Don’t you study at UQ? The bus is the other direction.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a class until later, so I have some time to burn,” Marina replied. “Plus, I want to see the Con. Can you be my tour guide?”

“I was gonna practise today,” Kevin said. Then he paused and realised something. “But since you asked, I guess I’ll have to show you around, then.”

“I’ll be in your care,” replied Marina, with a subtle curtsy.

They climbed up the stairs to the foyer on the second floor. Unlike standard boxy architectural designs, the foyer was a showcase of undulating contours and curves set alongside a palette of red and monochrome. A wide atrium opened up into the space of the floor above the foyer, revealing a circular balcony wrapped along all sides. It was a rather avant-garde sight to behold, were it not for the lack of people in it in general, aside from a few people relaxing on couches.

“You already know this is the foyer. No one really sticks around here except for during concerts,” said Kevin.

“I can tell,” said Marina. “It’s quite peaceful here, aside from a few sounds.”

There were various muscial instrument sounds audible in the general ambience, as well as singers’ voices. A particularly loud brassy instrument was prominent among them.

“Follow me,” said Kevin.

Marina followed Kevin as he walked down the hallway that led to the same recital hall he performed in just before lunch.

“Don’t tell me you have another concert?” asked Marina teasingly.

“Nah,” said Kevin. “What, you want to hear me sing more?”

“If you want,” said Marina. “But, you’re still giving me a tour, so no singing yet.”

“Well, the courtyard’s right there,” said Kevin. “I’ll take you there later, if you want.”

Marina was at a loss for words. She looked away from Kevin a little nervously.

To the right, there was an enclosed courtyard with some trees in it and a mostly gravelly ground. There was a male student with a trombone blasting what sounded like a Richard Wagner musical excerpt at full volume in the courtyard. That was the source of the really loud sound among the ambience of the Con.

“It’s that same trombonist, he always practises in the courtyard,” Kevin expressed his annoyance. “He should seriously find a room to practise in, he’s really annoying.”

They continued walking down the hallway. Behind the numerous doors along the hallway, there were rooms of varying sizes with varying numbers of people, from a single person to groups of at least 30. Each room had a piano in it, and most people weren’t using them, as they had a separate instrument.

They looped around the courtyard and back to the foyer.

“I’ll show you the third floor,” Kevin told Marina.

“Alright,” said Marina.

On one side of the foyer was a set of stairs. Their shape was such that, from both sides of the staircase until the mezzanine landing between each floor, the walls tapered to a point. The walls up to that point were glass and offered a view of the courtyard. They walked up the stairs.

The appearance was similar to the second floor, aside from the massive chunk of floorspace taken out in the middle above the second floor foyer.

“Come with me, I’ll show you some cool spots,” said Kevin.

They walked to the music technology rooms. It was very quiet, much quieter than the rest of the Con. At the entrance was a vending machine with drinks and snacks, and next to it was a small space with a microwave and sink. Looking into the rooms, each room had numerous fancy computers and audio equipment and room treatment. These spaces were serious business.

“People here are kinda quiet and shy away from the rest of the student population to make music on computers,” said Kevin. “Sometimes I’m kinda drawn to this part of the building myself.”

“I can see why,” said Marina. “I’d like to spend some time here if I was a student here.”

“But I got nothing to do here, so let’s go elsewhere,” said Kevin. They went out of the music technology rooms towards the jazz rooms.

The usual ambient cacophony came back. As they walked to the jazz rooms, the ambience took on a more informal, casual musical character. It was unpredictable, chaotic, while at the same time, simple and strangely refined.

“This is a cool spot,” said Kevin. “If some of the people here got clean, it would be an even cooler spot.”

“I… see.” Marina had a slight hesitation in her voice. Kevin wondered whether she had an upbringing more sheltered from the darker sides of life than most.

“Well, that’s enough here. The rest of the floor is more practice rooms and some staff offices. Let’s check out the first floor,” said Kevin.

Down the stairs they went.

Once they reached the second floor, the ambience grew louder and the cacophony less musical. Next to the stairs and the courtyard was the common room. Numerous people were sat on the couches and at the tables in it, some talking about random stuff and some reading musical scores.

Opposite the common room, there was a small tuckshop. Since it was past lunchtime, there was no queue of people lining up for food.

“I wonder how the food is at this place,” asked Marina somewhat sarcastically.

“Eh, it’s alright. It keeps you going, but it’s overpriced for what it is, and the food at your parents’ restaurant tastes much better,” said Kevin.

“So, in other words, it’s mediocre,” clarified Marina.

“Yep,” said Kevin. “There’s more to this floor, though. Come with me.”

They walked in the opposite direction. There was a dedicated locker space tucked into the heart of the building, directly under the foyer.

“Why are there so many lockers?” asked Marina.

“Most people need a place to store instruments,” said Kevin. “So they rent out lockers for the year to store their instruments in. Some have really big instruments, like double basses and tubas, so they really need the space.”

“I see, that’s interesting,” said Marina. “Do you have a locker?”

“My instrument is inside my body,” said Kevin.

“I can see that,” said Marina, staring at Kevin’s neck with mock intensity.

“Stop staring at my neck, Marina!” Kevin covered his neck. “What are you, a vampire?”

Marina giggled.

“Otherwise, yes, I do have a locker,” said Kevin. “But, we’ll come back to that later.”

They walked past the lockers. There were more hallways with more practice rooms. There was a big door that led to another performance hall.

“That’s another concert space,” said Kevin. “That’s bigger than the theatre, but smaller than the recital hall you heard me sing in earlier today.”

“Ooooh, that’s the next step for you, isn’t it?” Marina asked teasingly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Kevin replied, brushing off Marina’s teasing.

“And the practice rooms here are easier to book immediately,” said Kevin. “However, they’re often crowded here. The ones upstairs need to be booked a little earlier in advance, but you can get longer practice sessions from them, and they’re less crowded.”

“Is that why some people practise in the courtyard?” Marina asked.

Kevin paused to think a little.

“Now that I think about it, yeah, that would make sense,” Kevin said.

They walked back past the lockers down the opposite hallway. At the end of the hallway was the library.

Kevin turned around and, while facing Marina, put his index finger to his lips as they walked into the library. There were students writing assignments, borrowing books and borrowing musical scores.

“They have musical scores here?” Marina whispered.

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “They have Chopin, Villa-Lobos, Wagner, some recent stuff, and this is also where they issue parts for concert performances as well. What’s even better is that there are scores for all the instruments taught here.”

“Wow,” said Marina. “This is amazing. I’ll have to come here and check out this collection.”

“Go right ahead,” said Kevin.

Marina got down on her knees, scouring a shelf for some piano scores. After rummaging a bit, she pulled out a booklet with “Suite Bergamasque” written on the cover.

“Could you borrow this for me?” Marina asked Kevin.

“I don’t know if you’d return it to me in time,” said Kevin. “I’ve been late returning two scores this year, I don’t want to get in trouble returning another one. Plus, you can find that online and print it off.”

“Boo, you suck, Kevin,” said Marina. She put the “Suite Bergamasque” booklet back.

“There’s some grand pianos on this floor,” Kevin said. “Wanna check them out?”

“Oh, sure!” Marina eagerly replied.

They walked out of the library empty handed. They walked down another hallway, past an inconspicuous computer lab, and then they found themselves surrounded by rooms filled with grand pianos. Bösendorfer, Fazioli, Steinway. All the big names in piano making were featured in at least one room in this part of the building, in comparison to the Yamaha and Kawai pianos seen in other practise rooms.

“Wow, they even have Faziolis!” Marina exclaimed.

“The piano students are almost as antisocial as the music tech students, but they don’t pull all nighters inside the building the way the mutech guys do,” said Kevin.

“I wish I could play those,” Marina lamented.

“Well, try auditioning again, and you might be able to,” said Kevin. “What do you normally play at home?”

“A cheap second-hand Yamaha upright,” said Marina. “It has a rather bright sound.”

“I see,” said Kevin. “No wonder you want to play these. Well, it’s not like you can carry them around, you know. Do you have an electronic keyboard at home?”

“No, I don’t,” lamented Marina.

“Ah, that sucks,” said Kevin. “Well, that can be taken care of later. Anyways, I think it’s time we get some songwriting done.”

“Yeah,” said Marina. “We should start writing something.”

“Sweet,” said Kevin. “I need to go to my locker first.”

They walked back to the locker area. Kevin walked up to one of the larger lockers, and he stuck a key into a rather thick padlock and turned it. He opened the locker door to reveal a simple backpack and a simple looking guitar. It was a cheap, mass-manufactured Spanish-style guitar, with nylon strings stretched between the slotted headstock and the bridge, wrapping around both ends. He took the bag and guitar out.

“I call it El Cheapo,” he said, gesturing to the guitar. “Got it real cheap from Cashies. Previous owner was a smoker, though, but otherwise it doesn’t go out of tune. It’s my on-campus songwriting guitar.”

“You said you didn’t need a locker?” Marina questioned Kevin.

“I don’t need a locker, I wanted a locker, so I got one,” said Kevin. “Come to the courtyard, the trombonist is gone.”

Kevin locked up his locker. Then they proceeded to the courtyard with all their necessary songwriting materials in tow.