sarah spring

The first piano Sarah ever touched was an old Heintzman in her parents' kitchen under the tutelage of her father, a blues musician.  She has been unable to resist the feel of the keys ever since and drifts through life favouring certain pianos here and there-- a tiny upright in the rare flower shop on Parc in Montreal,  a silver veneer, cigarette-burned grand piano in the corner practice room at McGill, a Young Chang with the felt always down in a friend's Toronto apartment, a Steinway late at night in a local church--the lights kept low, so no one remembers she still has a key.