Joy
With another week and a half of practicing under my belt it has occurred to me that the sensations of mild displeasure or outright struggle that sometimes accompany practicing are really to be expected since the activity is really about altering one's mind through sustained effort. Recognizing that bigger picture helps move toward joy which is something that occasionally takes a back seat in efforts at making music. Remembering that we are changing ourselves through the process and also seeking to engage joyfully with musical labor can really refresh and energize one's mindset about practicing. Remembering that practicing is a "get to" and not a "have to" experience helps, too. I think I'm rediscovering that practicing is not just something I do - it's something I like to do!
Cues
I did a bit of teaching this week which got me thinking of cues. One model for teaching piano is that of helping students develop internal cues for how to do the activity well. I consciously work that way with my students sometimes, but I seldom do my own practicing with real intention in that area. However, I should and could apply the approach at every stage in my learning. Thinking in terms of what cues one needs at each stage seems like a great way of dealing with the fluid nature of making music at the piano. What cues do I need in this phrase, on this day, at this piano, for this performance . . .?
This discipline of giving one's self good cues is reminiscent of the practice of centering prayer in which the contemplative acknowledges the various thoughts that distract, without allowing them to truly disturb the endeavor, and then gently directs the mind and soul back to the focus.
Teaching piano lessons in the otherwise pretty free-flowing midst of summer vacation makes me grateful for such settings and situations that give me cues that trigger clear and well-organized behaviors on my part. When I am in a room with a piano and a student, my system has a pretty good idea of what to do. When I am in front of a class of aural theory students, my experience and training take over. It is nice to be in such familiar terrain where there are less fundamental issues to decide.
Singing
I've always heard that one should sing one's piano music to determine phrasing and so forth. I noticed this week that singing can also help to envision an appropriate base line to which to return in terms of both dynamics and intensity. The limitations of the voice in those areas are strongly sensed, and because of that, I think issues of scale and expression can become clearer when using the voice than when facing a piano with two hands and no mediation. So often, the flavor of the music becomes distinct and touching when we know not so much when to "go for it" but when to back off. As Earl Carlyss often said in chamber coachings, "If you can't raise the bridge, lower the stream."
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Discoveries
***Warning: Hidden in the midst of these seemingly random observations is some stuff that some might find a little provocative.***
Here are some of this week's piano practicing and listening discoveries:
Albeniz's music has a high incidence of measures full of double flats along with interlocking and crossing hands. This makes for some disorienting reading. Certain pages of "El Polo" are easy-to-see examples. You can listen to Alicia de Larrocha playing this here starting around 7:30.
Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe contains bits of Valses Nobles et Sentimentales (or vice versa). They were written around the same time.
The first movment of Schumann Fantasy and the E minor prelude of Bach from WTCI have something in common in terms of left hand figuration and maybe a bit of the right hand pacing. Plus, the Bach is a little fantasy-like in its unfolding: a mysterious opening giving way to a lively second section followed by a highly chromatic, unusual, brief two-voice fugue - kind of Schumannesque. The two pieces might suggest some interesting parallels as the openers of two halves of the recital I'm preparing.
I started reading through the first two movements of Rachmaninoff Cello Sonata and might learn them in large part that way - by reading through them over the summer.
There are more than sixteen exercises in Persichetti's mirror studies. There are four sets of sixteen. So, I'll aim for three or so a day so as to make it through the entire book once a month over the summer, not once a week as I mistakenly thought the last time I posted!
Putting in two to three hours practice time each day this week feels a little like healthy exposure to the sun. I suppose one can overdo it a bit with practice and the sun, though, resulting in a general withering as a person in both cases.
Several events this week led me to a little reflection on our culture's emphasis on instant gratification. These happenings included discussion at a centering prayer meeting, lunch with my friend and colleague Paul Corrigan (check out his work on teaching and learning) , and a lovely concert by the Florida Southern Children's and Girls' Choirs.
It seems to me that the experience, aesthetic, and discipline of classical music are all tuned into process over time. The music comes from a world in which things were achieved more slowly and in a fashion that fostered an awareness of process. We participants in contemporary American culture have the luxury of living with little engagement with the importance of process to human endeavor and the temptation to focus a bit too much on always feeling entertained. I love that many in my parents' generation give us a living connection to a time when "spare time" was spent doing chores necessary for orderly living or with putting one's mind to solving a problem.
Our popular musical aesthetics, shaped by radio, require brevity, and because of that, more or less instantaneous appeal. But it's hard to take much of a musical journey in three minutes. The radio has also dictated that styles need to be pretty consistent dynamically, which eliminates one aspect of expressive potential. The result in the concert or worship setting is a few big dynamic moves that exist to give the listener a rush or a little impression of a large-scale formal move in spite of the absence of significant large-scale form.
I wonder if the next evolutionary step for humanity will be a step back from the engagement with process and higher-level thinking that help to distinguish us as a species. How ironic that such as step might be brought about by our ingenuity and technological progress. And so it is that one might become a passionate advocate for classical music as part of a larger mission to preserve what we believe it is to be human.
To my friends who are keeping the human focus on process in any musical styles, I applaud you!
A final discovery: while listening to a beautiful performance of Franck's Panis Angelicus sung by a quartet of four young men (members of the Florida Southern Childrens' Choir) the genius of Franck's canon in this piece dawned on me.
Here are some of this week's piano practicing and listening discoveries:
Albeniz's music has a high incidence of measures full of double flats along with interlocking and crossing hands. This makes for some disorienting reading. Certain pages of "El Polo" are easy-to-see examples. You can listen to Alicia de Larrocha playing this here starting around 7:30.
Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe contains bits of Valses Nobles et Sentimentales (or vice versa). They were written around the same time.
The first movment of Schumann Fantasy and the E minor prelude of Bach from WTCI have something in common in terms of left hand figuration and maybe a bit of the right hand pacing. Plus, the Bach is a little fantasy-like in its unfolding: a mysterious opening giving way to a lively second section followed by a highly chromatic, unusual, brief two-voice fugue - kind of Schumannesque. The two pieces might suggest some interesting parallels as the openers of two halves of the recital I'm preparing.
I started reading through the first two movements of Rachmaninoff Cello Sonata and might learn them in large part that way - by reading through them over the summer.
There are more than sixteen exercises in Persichetti's mirror studies. There are four sets of sixteen. So, I'll aim for three or so a day so as to make it through the entire book once a month over the summer, not once a week as I mistakenly thought the last time I posted!
Putting in two to three hours practice time each day this week feels a little like healthy exposure to the sun. I suppose one can overdo it a bit with practice and the sun, though, resulting in a general withering as a person in both cases.
Several events this week led me to a little reflection on our culture's emphasis on instant gratification. These happenings included discussion at a centering prayer meeting, lunch with my friend and colleague Paul Corrigan (check out his work on teaching and learning) , and a lovely concert by the Florida Southern Children's and Girls' Choirs.
It seems to me that the experience, aesthetic, and discipline of classical music are all tuned into process over time. The music comes from a world in which things were achieved more slowly and in a fashion that fostered an awareness of process. We participants in contemporary American culture have the luxury of living with little engagement with the importance of process to human endeavor and the temptation to focus a bit too much on always feeling entertained. I love that many in my parents' generation give us a living connection to a time when "spare time" was spent doing chores necessary for orderly living or with putting one's mind to solving a problem.
Our popular musical aesthetics, shaped by radio, require brevity, and because of that, more or less instantaneous appeal. But it's hard to take much of a musical journey in three minutes. The radio has also dictated that styles need to be pretty consistent dynamically, which eliminates one aspect of expressive potential. The result in the concert or worship setting is a few big dynamic moves that exist to give the listener a rush or a little impression of a large-scale formal move in spite of the absence of significant large-scale form.
I wonder if the next evolutionary step for humanity will be a step back from the engagement with process and higher-level thinking that help to distinguish us as a species. How ironic that such as step might be brought about by our ingenuity and technological progress. And so it is that one might become a passionate advocate for classical music as part of a larger mission to preserve what we believe it is to be human.
To my friends who are keeping the human focus on process in any musical styles, I applaud you!
A final discovery: while listening to a beautiful performance of Franck's Panis Angelicus sung by a quartet of four young men (members of the Florida Southern Childrens' Choir) the genius of Franck's canon in this piece dawned on me.
Monday, May 06, 2013
Comeback - Summer 2013
For the last six years, I have spent a good bit of time on the theory and composition side of my career. Starting today, I'm coming out of retirement as a pianist. (I'm only 41, so it's not time to hang up my hat just yet. And I actually do have a hat.)
This summer, barring some unforseen events, I plan to get back into gear as a pianist. Perhaps blogging about the process will contribute to my momentum.
The repertoire:
a new program for the coming year which I hope to perform numerous times -
Bach Prelude and Fugue in E minor, WTC Book I
Mozart C Major Sonata K. 330
Some Messiaen work (suggestions anyone?)
and Schumann Fantasy
The Back and Mozart are old pieces and the Schumann and I casually dated a few times in the mid-90s.
Plus, a Rachmaninoff program to be performed with my excellent string colleagues, Ron and Annabelle Gardiner: Cello Sonata, Elegiac Trio, and Vocalise.
The plan:
Learn one movement of the Schumann and one of the other pieces each month -
May - Bach
June - Mozart
July/August - Messiaen
Today I put in a little time with four of Persichetti's mirror studies. There are 16 in all. I'm aiming at an average of four a day so as to get through the cycle once a week over the summer.
I also practiced sightreading today. I haven't really practiced sightreading regularly since I was a child. Today's selections included "El Albaicin" of Albeniz. There's some tricky whole-tone stuff in there.
I also listened to Rachmaninoff's tone-poem The Rock this morning and read the liner notes then spent some quiet time admiring nature. I feel like a student again!
Day 1, pretty good.
This summer, barring some unforseen events, I plan to get back into gear as a pianist. Perhaps blogging about the process will contribute to my momentum.
The repertoire:
a new program for the coming year which I hope to perform numerous times -
Bach Prelude and Fugue in E minor, WTC Book I
Mozart C Major Sonata K. 330
Some Messiaen work (suggestions anyone?)
and Schumann Fantasy
The Back and Mozart are old pieces and the Schumann and I casually dated a few times in the mid-90s.
Plus, a Rachmaninoff program to be performed with my excellent string colleagues, Ron and Annabelle Gardiner: Cello Sonata, Elegiac Trio, and Vocalise.
The plan:
Learn one movement of the Schumann and one of the other pieces each month -
May - Bach
June - Mozart
July/August - Messiaen
Today I put in a little time with four of Persichetti's mirror studies. There are 16 in all. I'm aiming at an average of four a day so as to get through the cycle once a week over the summer.
I also practiced sightreading today. I haven't really practiced sightreading regularly since I was a child. Today's selections included "El Albaicin" of Albeniz. There's some tricky whole-tone stuff in there.
I also listened to Rachmaninoff's tone-poem The Rock this morning and read the liner notes then spent some quiet time admiring nature. I feel like a student again!
Day 1, pretty good.
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