Have you been intrigued by the smallest size of ukulele — the sopranino? I have always wondered, just how tiny is this uke?
This past summer I saw my first ever sopranino. It was on a sales table at the Portland Ukefest. And so I picked it up to get acquainted. From the first time I played “Freight Train” on it, I couldn’t resist picking it up every time I passed it. And I would go out of my way to pass it. I must have picked up that teeny tiny ukulele at least once an hour. It was an Ohana sopranino.
Very sweet, small, graceful yet such a big sound for such a small instrument. In brief, it became irresistable.
“No,” I’d say to myself, “You don’t need another ukulele.” And I’d put it down and go on to my next session.
Then one time when I went to the table for another trial strum, it was gone. Someone had bought it.
I needn’t tell you I was disappointed. But I concluded perhaps I wasn’t meant to have it. Afterall, I rationalized, how would I get two ukuleles (my flea had flown across the country with me to the ukefest) home on the plane?
A friend asked, “What would this ukulele do for you that all your others wouldn’t?” And I speculated that if I ever wanted to show someone all the different sizes of ukulele from baritone, tenor, concert, soprano and sopranino, I would need to complete my set. This did not rate high as a compelling and convincing reason.
Near the end of the ukefest week, another sopranino magically appeared on the display table. I saw it. I played it. I bought it.
It now resides on my home office wall (one of the few rooms in the house without a uke on the wall). I can compute, talk on Skype, and strum at the same time. It is just small enough that it doesn’t interfere with the computer keyboard.
It is truly a tiny uke.