I totally related to Cole Porter's magnetic pull to any piano

Host: The studio was alive with the sound of jazz — the piano keys dancing in rhythm with the bass, each note a fleeting glimpse of something free, something impossible to capture fully. Outside, the night had deepened, the moon hanging low and quiet, casting long shadows across the windows. Inside, however, the room was warm, filled with the soft hum of creativity.

Jack sat by the grand piano, his fingers tracing the keys absentmindedly, the chords blending together like a conversation he hadn’t quite finished. Jeeny stood near the window, her eyes catching the faint reflection of the city lights as they flickered and stretched along the street below. The piano, though silent now, seemed to call to them both — a magnet pulling at something unspoken between them.

Jeeny: (breaking the silence, her voice soft but thoughtful) “Kevin Kline once said, ‘I totally related to Cole Porter’s magnetic pull to any piano that was in the room, which he was famous for doing, as was Gershwin. You couldn’t drag them away from a piano.’”

(She smiled slightly, her gaze shifting to Jack.) “Do you ever feel like that? Like you’re drawn to something so deeply, you can’t help but follow it?”

Jack: (without looking up from the keys, his voice slow) “I think that’s what it feels like to really love something. To be pulled to it without thinking about the consequences.”

Jeeny: (moving closer, her voice warm with understanding) “And that pull... that magnetic force. It’s not about needing to perform, it’s about the connection — the feeling that comes when you find something that makes you forget about everything else.”

Jack: (a faint smile forming on his lips) “I get that. There are days when I sit at this piano, and it feels like it’s the only thing that makes sense. Like I’m not just playing notes — I’m expressing something deeper than words can reach.”

Jeeny: (nodding, her voice light but genuine) “Exactly. And I think that’s why people like Porter and Gershwin couldn’t walk away from a piano. It wasn’t about playing the right thing or impressing anyone. It was about the freedom they felt when they touched the keys. It was about letting the music pull them into the moment, away from everything else.”

Host: The piano sat between them now, no longer just an instrument, but a bridge, a place of connection — one that had drawn both of them closer to something both vulnerable and exhilarating. The light from the window caught the edge of the polished wood, casting a soft, almost golden glow across the keys.

Jack: (quietly, almost to himself) “I think I understand what they meant. When I play, I feel like I’m letting go of everything that weighs me down. The music becomes the only thing left.”

Jeeny: (smiling, a knowing look in her eyes) “That’s the magic of it. The pull isn’t just physical, it’s spiritual. Music, like love or passion, doesn’t need permission. It just demands that you show up.”

Jack: (after a pause, his voice a little softer) “You think that’s why they couldn’t leave the piano? Because, without it, they were just people. But with it, they were something else?”

Jeeny: “Yes. It’s the space where they didn’t have to explain themselves. The piano wasn’t just an instrument to them. It was a part of their soul. They didn’t play to be heard. They played to be whole.”

Host: The air in the room seemed to shift, the silence between them no longer empty, but full of the unspoken understanding of artists who have found their voice, who have let their hearts speak through the music. Jack reached out, his fingers brushing the keys, the first note ringing out like a breath finally released.

Jack: (softly, playing a simple melody) “You’re right. It’s the only thing that feels like it’s truly mine. The only place where I can feel whole.”

Jeeny: (closing her eyes, listening to the notes) “Exactly. And that’s why you can’t walk away from it, can you? The piano isn’t just a tool — it’s your connection to something deeper.”

Host: The sound of the music filled the room now, not loud or overwhelming, but gentle — like an intimate conversation between the piano and Jack’s soul. Jeeny watched him, her smile soft, knowing that the connection he had found with the instrument was the same one that Porter and Gershwin had found all those years ago.

Jack: (as the last note fades, he looks up at her) “It’s not about the performance, is it? It’s about the freedom.”

Jeeny: (smiling) “Exactly. The freedom to express what words can’t.”

Host: The music died away, leaving only the lingering echo of the last chord. The room was quiet again, but the silence felt different now. It wasn’t heavy. It was filled with the weight of understanding — the kind that comes from knowing that the things we’re most drawn to are the things that help us find ourselves.

And as the evening wrapped around them, Jack realized that the piano wasn’t just an object in the room. It was a companion, a partner in creating something that couldn’t be fully explained — only felt.

Just like love, just like passion. Just like art.

And in that quiet space, he finally understood: it wasn’t the playing that mattered. It was the act of being with the music. The act of allowing it to pull him in, to express what needed to be said, without ever having to explain it.