This is basically the sequel to my article I’m Crushing On a 40s Accordion Named Blackjack, where I wrote in detail about the whole experience of having intense daydreams about having an accordion, and all the excitement and joy involved in it. If you want more emotional context, you should read it.
This article, however, is about the experience of owning and playing the accordion I was dreaming about. The clouds and mists of anticipation fading away, and the heavy reality kicking in.
I could have written this article much earlier, but I was really busy playing that same accordion and spending time with someone meaningful 😉. But at least this worked in my favour, because I got more accordion experience the entire time!
Unrealistic Much?
Initially, my own idealised, dreamy version of accordion playing involved these super duper realistic expectations mentally, even if I theoretically knew what accordions were like:
- Normal and practical weight that someone can carry normally, like a normal portable instrument
- Keys are findable and make sense easily
- Normal sized, normal instrument
- Easy to play
- Controllable volume
- Elegant
Basically, this is what the daydream of an accordion felt like:
It’s hard to explain or verbalise exactly how I had felt, but it was as if my brain couldn’t comprehend the true size, weight and effort of accordions while I was busy simping for one.
First Encounter: Reality As Heavy As a Microwave
The first thing that hit my perception of reality like a brick was the HUGE FUCKING BOX that Blackjack the accordion was in.
NOTHING COULD PREPARE ME FOR THAT BOX.
It looked, felt and weighed as if it carried a lifetime of my sins and childhood shame.
I was supposedly trying to be discreet, and the box was extremely unsubtle.
I had to be driven home with the help of a coworker, as I would have probably tragically died in a car accident while crossing a road with a huge box like that obstructing my field of vision.
What I discovered eventually was that Jack (the accordion) was kept inside a wooden case. Said case easily weighed ~6kg alone.
The accordion weighed EASILY 10Kg.
~10 kilos, or ~22 pounds (for Eagleburger), is almost the same weight as:
- A small microwave
- Two bowling balls
- 24 soda cans
- A car tyre (without the metal rim)
- A toddler (1-2 yrs old)
- An adult medium sized dog (Dachshund)
- A full washing machine laundry load
Accordions weigh a LOT, mostly because they are literal SUITCASES WITH WOOD AND METAL INSIDE THEM.
THIS IS WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE INSIDE:
LIKE YEAH, NO SHIT?
THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO WEIGH LIKE A FEATHER, RIGHT?
Especially the accordions that have different registers, like my 120 bass accordion Blackjack 😬… He is big and FAT. He has 4 register buttons on the piano side.
First Encounter
After going into my apartment and fighting with the packaging and the case to get him out for 30 minutes, I FINALLY SAW HIM.
He was lovelier than I could ever anticipate.
Blackjack, my “new” 40s accordion, is an actual mechanical spectacle. Loaded with patina, repair/damage marks and physical ageing, he didn’t fail at charming me.
Whoever thought instruments can’t be sexy needs to see this absolute UNIT of an accordion. That is some peak accordion physique right there.
The visual imperfections and the flaws are EXTREMELY attractive on this accordion, as he looks like he has been through shit. He looks like he survived going through thousands of restaurants and classrooms (his previous owner was a music teacher).
The design is also clearly very old-fashioned, as these sharp, rectangular edges differ greatly from modern accordions.
It’s also notable that the white linings, the ones that give him a 30s-50s Art Deco feel, are unusual for most accordions I’ve seen.
I was ENTHRALLED by Blackjack and spent quite a lot of time exploring him and poking him after unboxing him.
He certainly has some flaws, like some of the 7th chord buttons being stuck inside the casing, or the back straps being a bit too long for me (so far), missing/broken bellows clips – the things that hold the sides of the accordion closed so that it won’t keep opening like a book from hell – and a sticky highest key that grinds against the piano key casing and gets stuck if pressed down.
I liked him so much, however, that these flaws barely mean anything significant to me, despite the annoyances.
When I first saw him, I squealed and did a little stim, where I flapped my hands autistically.
Having something like this in my house was A LOT to process, especially since he occupied the couch. It’s his couch now.
First Playing Experience: An Ear & Arm Hazard
The ridiculous size of this gigantic portable organ was the first thing that hit me when I got Blackjack the accordion. However, what hit me in the metaphorical nuts the most was the playing experience.
Let me tell you, nobody can put it properly into words, nobody can properly explain what it’s like to try to play the accordion for the first time ever.
What I really enjoyed doing, as my first ever attempt to play Jack, was to pull a C on both the bass and piano sides at the same time.
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH
That was very nice. I legit opened my mouth and eyes wide as if I was screaming the accordion noises myself. It was intense. It was WONDERFUL.
Ehhh….
That was kinda the only wonderful part from that first session. The rest of it was a bit messy. That’s because I tried to see if I could play a tune on one side or both at the same time. And oh my god, playing ANYTHING on accordion glitched my brain at first.
My coordination was ALL OVER THE PLACE. My hands were trying to find the keys, my brain was confused, and my arm was screaming internally for having to sync the bellowing motion to a rhythm.
Here is a breakdown (a literal one) of what was happening internally to me:
My Right Hand Was Unhappy
I’ve had some experience of playing the melodica prior to picking up the accordion, so you can imagine my terror when I realised ACCORDION KEYS ARE FUCKING HUGE.
I cannot stress this enough: accordion keys are kind of the same size as actual acoustic piano keys, slightly shallower and less heavy, but still HUGE compared to the petite tiny melodica keys.
WHY HAS NOBODY ELSE SPOKEN ABOUT THIS???!??!
This experience is comparable to being used to driving a tiny car and suddenly switching to driving an 8-wheeler TRUCK.
My Arm Filed a Complaint
The whole bellows motion thing is challenging by itself. It requires physical force to do the pumping motion to expand and squeeze the bellows of the accordion, which my arm was NOT prepared for.
Pumping accordion bellows should be considered a form of exercise, legit, not exaggerating at all here.
The sheer amount of mechanical force that is required to do the movement alone had tired me out very quickly on my first try, and my arm ached ALREADY on day one.
My Brain Was Scared
As someone who is AuDHD (Autism + ADHD) and knows what it’s like to experience ADHD and multitasking with it, I can say that the accordion is the most ADHD instrument I have ever played yet.
Except, even my own brain initially felt genuinely overwhelmed by trying to play the accordion. That shit is HARD.
I felt as if I needed three individual brains to do bellows, to find the keys on the huge keyboard, to play something, and to optionally increase my suffering by also pressing bass keys, all at the same time.
People SEVERELY UNDERESTIMATE how challenging it is.
This was happening inside my brain the first time:
Ow My Ears
People keep joking about accordions being absolute destroyers of ears sometimes.
As much as I am against the free reed instrument slander, in the first few times when I picked up my accordion, I can confidently say:
OH MY GOD IT’S LOUD.
Obviously, accordions can be relatively quiet too, but it depends on how you bellow it.
And unfortunately, most beginners are not super careful with their bellows pumping when playing the accordion. I am guilty of this myself, as I found it challenging to control the bellows properly, while focusing the most on my hands finding the keys.
That’s how you end up with recreating the sound of an angry mechanical goose instead of music, sadly. BUT THAT’S HOW IT IS.
Learning how to do the bellows as an accordionist is just as important as learning how not to scream when singing as a vocalist. It’s the same thing, except accordions use mechanical lungs.
Also, accordions were originally made for large gatherings and cutting through crowd sounds. Accordion was the original LIT PARTY MACHINE a century ago.
It stayed as a portable partying machine all the way until electric guitars became a thing. Families had an accordion in their house for gatherings and LOUD music.
As much as people don’t think of it like this, and assume accordions are a niche, romantic instrument or something, they were made to cause large crowds of people inside music halls to wiggle their asses. For this to happen, it had to be REALLY REALLY LOUD.
Accordion was a popular instrument for partying between 1930 and 1960 too, and would appear in family gatherings and pretty much everywhere. It HAD to be louder than people’s drunk laughing and singing and talking.
That’s also why the full, rich sound of an accordion can be heard when you play it a bit loudly.
Sure, if it’s in a good state, it can absolutely whisper. It can be played gently so not to disturb your apartment building neighbors. But it works best when played loudly.
The Accordion Sound Itself Is Weird
What I rarely heard from other accordionists from their experiences of first starting out is hearing weirdness in how the accordion sounds. I was primarily playing melodica before picking up Blackjack the accordion, and different sound made me feel weird.
I initially assumed that my accordion needed tuning because some keys sounded slightly weird.
What I eventually personally noticed is that all accordions sound weird. All of them. Mine plays multiple reeds of the same note at once, as part of its natural build. He’s also from the 1940s-1950s, so it’s even more natural for him specifically to sound slightly unstable.
Before realising that some of the shaky, crying-like wheezy sound of the accordion is part of its nature, I was trying to check if the tuning was okay. Of course, the tuning was okay. That’s just what accordion sounds like.
An accordion is sort of like a portable chord reed organ, and it’s also a suitcase full of drama.
It can sound like the most tragic sound you have ever heard, imitating human crying but with reeds, OR, it can sound like the most manic, enthusiastic thing ever made. The duality is part of what the accordion is, and the kinda unstable sound it produces, of air moving through reeds, makes it what it IS AT CORE.
And I Love Him
Despite his first appearance, sound and playing being extremely intimidating, Blackjack (the accordion) became dear to me.
Practicing music on him these days (June 2026) is something I do daily ever since we met. He may be heavy, old and kind of awkward to wear and hard to play, but I can confidently say he was worth waiting for.
Playing him is becoming a little bit easier every day as I practice, and it’s uncannily amazing how his weight and resistance can be felt less. His keys are making more sense, and his bellows are much more comfortable to move.
To my luck, unlike many other things I have bought (including vintage objects), Jack is very close to what I daydreamed about, which I had described in detail in my previous article I’m Crushing On a 40s Accordion Named Blackjack.
Playing him, without any exaggeration here, is amazing. He is REALLY FUN TO PLAY.
He’s immersive to play, physical, occupying both arms, and he produces rich and resonant music even during mistakes or awkward fumbling.
I’m having a BLAST while playing him, to the point that he continues to be strongly an artistic muse to me, even after he is no longer a distant crush.
He lives with me, and he continues to inspire me constantly!
Hell, I’m even using his sounds to work on audio or storyboard animation skits. I’m reminding you that OF COURSE he has his own humanoid form, which I’ll never completely shut up about.
It’s Joy, It’s Therapy
I’m going to be very honest while saying this, but Blackjack is the only musical instrument that naturally made me feel comfortable enough to sing.
This is an IMPORTANT point, since I’ve felt shameful of expressing myself musically during most of my life, as I mentioned in the previous article, and it’s as if this old and worn accordion makes me feel safe enough to explore it again safely.
I improvised, and still improvise my own songs once in a while on Jack.
It’s nothing special, it’s not some virtruoso shit, it kind of sounds like something a child would compose. With lyrics sitting somewhere in the modern folk music territory, and talking about my daily struggles and emotions, from hospitals to abandoned old furniture.
I wouldn’t really sing like that EVER before.
Something about it felt relieving instead of a stressful performance, which, I repeat, didn’t happen with any other instrument as much.
And uh, in case you were wondering, I haven’t published any of my improvisations or songs yet, and I won’t for quite some time. I’d rather build up my skill a bit before releasing a masterpiece in the wild, you know!
Extremely few people have access to recordings of my improv with Blackjack, and one of them is Rodney. In the entirety of June so far, he was there while I was making my music, he still is (June 2026), and I consider him genuinely significant, as he is my first and most meaningful audience as of now.
Kudos to him for providing his awesomeness during the most awkward and experimental phase of messing with an accordion! Things wouldn’t be the same without you! ❤️
I managed to feel confident enough to bring up to my parents the fact that I own and play an accordion, only 2 weeks after starting! Me from a year or two ago could NEVER.
My parents’ response was neutral. A comment or two was uttered. Mum had even joked about this being “one of the air things” I was into. They liked the fact that I started getting more involved with music, but the fascination wasn’t shared much.
To them, it was just another thing I did.
To me, the accordion is a breakthrough.
A whole life of looking away from musicians, covering my mouth when asked to sing, running away when asked to dance, blushing even when someone hears my Spotify playlist and feeling too scared of judgement to even dare practice music in the first place, all led up to this moment.
A True Gentleman Owns An Accordion And Plays It
This heading was a sarcastic spin on my mum’s joke, “A true gentleman owns an accordion but never plays it”.
Yeah, wow, very funny, using the joke originally made for bagpipes to lightly mock the greatness of the bellowed portable reed organ with the 41 piano keys and the 120 bass keys. How original.
I’ll be a new, improved version of a gentleman then.
Not only will I play the accordion, but I’ll also MASTER IT.
For now, all I have achieved so far is simple playing, like being able to find keys of songs I like for the piano side and play them after practising and memorising them, or doing slow, very slow, atmospheric or child folk improv with both sides.
I want to learn the bass key Stradella system witchcraft and to make some actual full-length songs in the future.
THESE TALENTED AND SKILLED ACCORDIONISTS FOUND A WAY TO LEARN RIGHT?
If they can, SO CAN I.
FEAR ME
