Then when I start the piece, my reflexes turn on. You return to the piano and get on with it.” You can see where your destination is, so you go on. But you know what the piece must sound like. You will stop at points as you travel, stumble over notes, get stuck in a phrase and think you cannot move forward, that there are too many obstacles.
I helped get you to this point but you brought yourself here alone. She is saying: “this is the beginning of a journey. When I start a new piece, I invariably think of my beloved childhood piano professor, Mae Gilbert Reese, a student of Nadia Boulanger at the American Conservatory near Paris.
So you start that long difficult job or project. But now you are going to learn this piece because you want to yourself, not because someone else wants you to. It was too much effort at the time or something else came up. You meant to do it earlier, thought about what to say, but you never started the conversation. Sometimes it can take years – like finally saying hello to a neighbour. It is like thinking of that client or project, mulling it over, but never actually signing the contract.
No more playing around with a melody here or a passage there. Something tells you there is no alternative. I realize now what my father, a surgeon but also a pianist and organist equally talented in both instruments, meant when he said: “ sitting down at the piano can be the hardest part of playing the piano.” There is a moment when you decide to learn a piece. Unbeknownst to my daughter – and, thankfully I did not drop these weighty questions on her then as she would have no doubt run from the room, hands in the air, screaming – I started to put pen to paper and write down my thoughts. Who was it in fact who taught me to play? And what did I really learn from them, not only about the piano, but about the important lessons of life? Or about myself? And why am I even doing this ‘piano thing’ anyway, sitting at a keyboard while my back gets stiff – what’s the point?
One day, while I was practicing, she turned to me and asked: “ Papa, who taught you to play like that?” Her question got me thinking. Others among you who are parents and wondering how in the dickens you are going to convince your kids to stop surfing Instagram or Snapchat and instead practice the piano for at least 15 consecutive minutes.Īround 10 years ago, my daughter, who was 9 at the time, had taken the delightful habit of dancing while listening to me play a Chopin Etude or a Brahms Intermezzo. Others who are professionals with non-professional artistic interests, interests which you work hard to pursue. I suspect there are some of you who are musicians and are simply curious about what I am going to say. And, as if that weren’t enough, the world faces the prospect of a never-ending pandemic, a virus simmering among us, killing the elderly and young alike, while people refuse to wear masks just to make a “political statement.” How then, amidst all of this, and more, can music, the simple act of studying the piano, help us resist this real world onslaught? How does studying piano help us improve the quality of our everyday lives? “End of timers.” “Anti-vaxxers.” “Science deniers.” Unchecked corruption, without the slightest regard for what was once called the rule of law. Conspiracy theories pushed by populist (read authoritarian) leaders – or as the case may be, soon to be ex-leaders. Fake news from politicians themselves instead of fake news about them.
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