The thrill and terror of being Opera Roanoke's rehearsal pianist

I'm sitting here in my home, doing the only thing I can do at the moment - eating a piece of cake accompanied by a glass of white wine at 4pm in the afternoon. 

I think it's called for. 

Every so often I'm called upon by our local opera company, Opera Roanoke, to serve as their rehearsal pianist. I think this is one of those invisible music roles that most people, even many pianists, don't realize even exist. Perhaps that's because it's a role that can literally just last a couple of hours. Or perhaps it's because there simply aren't a lot of us out there willing to do this kind of work. 

In my opinion it's an example of extreme musicking and it's one that I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with. The work is daunting much of the time, requiring a lot of time to prepare, the experience involves combination of humility and bravery, and often the job doesn't include a performance in front of an audience. On the flip side, I get to work with a brilliant conductor, Steven White, and amazing soloists (who are sitting only feet away from me I might add!) I also inevitably end up having my mind changed about more challenging monumental works (shout-out here to Bartók's Bluebeard's Castle and this most recent venture, Britten's War Requiem.) I love being proven wrong about music. It helps me understand that just like with some people, art sometimes needs to be probed, lived with, and given numerous chances, to win me over. 

So what does being a rehearsal pianist for productions like this entail? 

I'm usually given the score, which is a reduction of the orchestra part, reduced down (sort of) to a piano part, a few months in advance so that I can prepare. The reduction is much easier than reading a full orchestra score with all of its many lines of music, one for each instrument; I don't know how many pianists could actually play for a rehearsal off the orchestral score. Much of the reduction is somewhat playable but there are always pages that are quite frankly nightmares. There can be extra lines of music in addition to the left hand and right hand lines, the texture can be really dense, lines can cross and be on top of one another...it's enough to sometimes make my eyes cross or my stomach churn at first (or second, third, etc...) glance. There are often parts in which there's no possible way a pianist could play everything. I would say that much of the time this is the case. Which leads to one of the greatest challenges - deciding what to play and what to leave out. 

Making this decision means knowing exactly what's going on in the orchestra - knowing which line represents which instrument, knowing whether or not that instrument is heard in that particular spot, and deciding if it's a line that should be played in order to help the soloists pick up their entrance notes or to know when to come in. I do a lot of listening to recordings while following along in the piano reduction. I then make a lot of decisions regarding what I think I should/can play or not play and mark up the score to reduce the temptation to try and do any more than that at rehearsal time.

As a rehearsal pianist I am also very careful to understand the meter and to guess as well as I can how the conductor is going to conduct it. When I'm practicing I make it a point to count out loud while playing to ensure that I know exactly what's going on rhythmically. Of course there's no way to accurately predict exactly how the conductor is going to conduct any given spot, but if I understand what's going on and have pictured what the possibilities are it gives me a much better chance to save some time since rehearsal time is very limited. Doing a lot of this rhythmic prep and visualization also makes it more likely that I'll keep one part of my vision glued to the conductor during the rehearsal. Often times, when sections are really challenging note-wise, I ditch worrying about the pitches I'm playing in order to convey rhythm, pulse, and mood. 

Another goal of mine in this type of work is knowing the piece so well that I can try to mimic as many aspects of the orchestra as I can so that in the rehearsal the conductor and soloists can feel like they're getting a glimpse of what they're going to get with the orchestra. This goes back to listening to recordings over and over again and playing around with different articulation, pedaling, approaches to touch on the keyboard, and dynamics. My goal is to not just sound like I'm playing a Reader's Digest version on the piano.

After all the preparation I do, and here I should add that no matter what I do I never feel fully prepared, it's time for a rehearsal with just me and the conductor. Maestro White and I have worked together enough that we both have said we like to have this initial meeting, which is usually a week or so before the soloists' rehearsal. For me it helps me to find out if there are any lines I should be playing rather than leaving out and to be aware of tempos that might be faster than I had anticipated so that I know what final prep I need to do. It's also a really incredible opportunity for me to glean from him what he feels about the piece. I learn so much from seeing what he finds challenging himself and sensing his enthusiasm and love for the music is always infectious. It's often in these one-on-ones that I find myself inescapably falling in love with the music myself. Last but not least, these rehearsals usually have me falling flat on my face at some point. There's nothing quite like doing that in front of a brilliant conductor to help get over nerve and perfection issues. If I can see that he's fine with some of my more colorful note snafus and imperfections, sometimes even laughing about them together, it makes me a little less nervous for what comes next.

After final touch-ups on my own we come to the rehearsal with the conductor and soloists. After all that work leading up to this moment, it is often shocking how short these rehearsals can be. Today's rehearsal lasted just about 2 hours. With the most difficult sections, which I've often spent hours and hours of work on, we may only go over it once. Today for instance the most demanding (I think it's pretty insane, really) sections took about 5 minutes of rehearsal time. All of that work...for 5 terrifying/exhilarating minutes!! Sometimes I also get frustrated at not getting second chances to get something tricky right. I frequently find myself wanting another go but it's not about me and my ego or desire to show that I can play a particular passage. We often just move on and that's that. It's good practice for one's psyche. 

Another aspect I find amusing about these rehearsals is how much focus it takes to get through it with grace. I'm always somewhat torn because here I am in the midst of such amazing musicians, with singers whose voices are phenomenal, yet I'm so focused on the task at hand I'm not really able to take it all in. 

To be honest, I often walk out of these rehearsals wondering if it's really worth it for me. It's a lot of time, a lot of stress, a lot of pressure...and in the end I never get to perform the work as I've prepared it for these rehearsals. 

But my goodness, I have to say I do love it too. It makes my heart race, it dumps me into the middle of remarkable music, and it surrounds me with inspiring talent. I also really enjoy watching the soloists and conductor cheer each other on in rehearsal. So often they end up really moving one another with what they can do technically and artistically. To see them react to one another's art and to hear them talk of how much they love the music heightens my love for this type of collaboration and motivates me to keep doing this type of work. And in the end, when I've survived it all, it makes me realize how unbelievable the whole process really is and what we, as pianists, are capable of pulling off.

It's also a really good excuse for a piece of cake and glass of wine.

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Approaching practicing and performing from a healthier place

Learning music is not like learning facts yet I think so often that's how it's approached. In the practice room, you either get it right or you don't get it right. In my experience, that's not a helpful way to evaluate one's practicing. When I learn a piece of music, when I practice, I'm constantly seeking to improve several things. At the top of my list are:

• Confidence

• Comfort

• Character

• Conviction

Confidence: I want to keep working at feeling more and more confident about the notes, the rhythms, dynamics, stylistic elements, etc... This one is important to work on from the beginning on working on a piece of music.

Comfort: Comfort is also really important. I'm constantly evaluating how it feels to play the music. Am I doing anything physically that's creating accents I don't want? Am I doing things that are making it harder to play what I'm supposed to be playing? Is there a different fingering, bowing, place to take a breath, that would make the passage more comfortable physically and/or make it more easy to play musically? Character: How clear a character or mood do I have in mind for any given part of the music? How descriptive can my adjectives be for what I want to get across? Do I know what instrument I'd like any given spot to sound like? Conviction: This one tends to be more of a focus closer towards performance time and it's a great thing to focus on when doing mental practice. I like to ask myself, "Can I close my eyes away from the instrument and hear exactly how I want the music to go?" If I can successfully do this, I know I'm on the right track! With all of these points, it's important to note that there's never really any end point for any of them. I can always, ALWAYS get better at them all. My goal when I practice and quite frankly when I perform, is to keep improving each of these. If I've improved one or more aspects in a session, I walk away content. If I've improved one or more aspects in a performance, I also walk away content.

To conclude, rarely, if ever, do I not improve some aspect of one of these areas when I practice or perform. Which means I am pretty proud of the work I do. Which means I quite like practicing and performing. It makes me feel good about myself & what I'm capable of. The audience can sense this and I think it makes it much easier for them to relax and enjoy the performance as a result which then feeds my enjoyment of the whole experience.

One positive thing leads to another. I highly recommend it!

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Sightreading Reality Check - there's more than meets the eye

I think about the skill of sightreading music a lot. My pontificating on the topic goes hand in hand with my fascination about the brain and about what we are capable of doing as humans, more specifically as musicians, and even more specifically as pianists. Sightreading is a complex, multi-layered task that involves more than our eyes and hands; just to name a few layers, it involves our ears, imagination, problem solving skills, a kinesthetic sense of the keyboard's topography in relation to our own body, and recall of all that we've experienced at the piano previously. The complexity can often overwhelm me when I'm discussing the topic or coaching someone privately, especially since there seems to be two prevalent views of this skill's acquisition:

• You're either born with the skill or you're not so you shouldn't expect to get better
• You can get better by just doing it 

In my opinion, neither of these are correct. I do think some people are perhaps born with skills that help one be more naturally better readers and I also know from personal experience that having constant exposure, especially early on in one's musical journey, can make skill acquisition happen more naturally and easily. But I also believe that it's possible for anyone to improve their sightreading no matter where they are in their journey but it's not through "just doing it" on a regular basis. Yes we need to practice it consistently but we need to do it with strategies in mind to address the many different skills that go into musically processing and reproducing the clouds of black scratches on the page that manage to represent music and all that it can entail. 

I've blogged about much of this before so feel free to check out my other posts on the topic. In today's post I want to share two recent videos that further explain my thoughts on the topic and recommendations for how others can work on sightreading themselves. The first video is on the shorter side. For a more extensive discussion, see the second one.

This first video clip is from the end of the 100th episode of my Sightreading Maverick show, which I livestream most Sundays at 1pm ET on my YouTube channel. 

This second video is an interview I did with David Holter who teaches piano in North Carolina. In the past year he started up a Facebook group specifically for pianists who are interested in improving their sightreading skills called the Piano Sight Reading Community. It's a wonderfully supportive group that now has over 1700 members - I highly recommend joining whether you're a teacher, student, or amateur. We tease out a lot of different issues over the course of 45 minutes. 

If after watching either or both of these you still have any questions or want to share your own experiences or thoughts, please do feel free to comment here. 

Celebrating one year of my sightreading show!

A year ago, in the spring of 2020, as we were all adjusting to being confined to our homes more, I kept trying to figure out how I was going to personally deal with this new scenario, especially since the majority of my income from musical jobs was cut off and I had a lot more free time on my hands. I was also struggling with not getting the regular bursts of adrenalin that come with being a performer and having the interactions with my audience that I so love and feed off of. 

One of the crazy ideas I came up with was to live-stream myself sightreading piano music for one hour. Why do that, one might ask? My answer?  I love sightreading, I'm pretty good at it and I figured I could use this time to explore solo piano repertoire. The only down-side I could think of was that I would be also be setting myself up for falling on my face publicly on a regular basis. But since I have a bit of a reputation for being stubborn and for wanting to be transparent as a musician, I decided the down-side could possibly be turned into an up-side. I wanted other musicians, pianists especially, to discover the joys that can come from being a good sight-reader:

• moments of struggle can actually be pretty amusing
• we can sightread musically if we approach it with skill and the right mindset
• there's a lot we can learn about ourselves as musicians from doing it on a regular basis
• that there are things we can do as musicians to help ourselves be set up for more success prior to jumping in
  
• oftentimes what we think was a disaster in the moment really wasn't so bad
  
  

A year after live-streaming the first episode it's safe to say that Sightreading Maverick is now one of the things I look forward to most in my week. I don't have a lot of regular viewers, at least not that I know of, but I have a faithful crew that regularly watches live and chats via messaging during the show. There's also one viewer who routinely watches at night, after the show is done, messaging me his reactions the whole time. That is always hilarious. I also have several who regularly send in requests. I'm very grateful for their suggestions. 

Every now and then I'll get feedback from people who have watched that they've added pieces to their repertoire that they discovered through the show - that brings me such joy to hear that. At times I  sightread works by composers who are friends or acquaintances of mine on Twitter - that's also been wonderfully rewarding. For me that gives me a completely different glimpse into who they are as people, artists, and friends. I should add here that I'm grateful that they've all been willing to let me subject their music to the risks that a part of sight-reading. They too are brave! 

So almost a year later, with 47 episodes in the books, 2 guest appearances (thanks to Tracy Cowden and the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble), almost 300 different piano pieces sightread, I'm going to keep at it until I run out of music. If you've never watched before, please do check it out and pass on the word about the show. The easiest way to be reminded about it is to subscribe to my YouTube channel. 

You can also watch episodes whenever you wish. Here's the playlist of everything that's on YouTube.

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Standing on my soapbox on another blog

A few weeks ago on Twitter I shared a story about an interesting conversation I had with a colleague where I teach. The conversation that ensued after I posted that story was a brief but important one that led to the wonderful composer, piano pedagogue, and writer Melanie Spanswick asking if I'd write up a post based on the topic. How could I say no?

The thoughts I wrote about in this blog post, "Flipping Musical Misperceptions on their Heads," are near and dear to my heart in many ways so please do take a read and contribute your own experiences and thoughts if you wish.

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The Art of Using a Mirror as a Musician

I'm sure I'm not alone in this scenario...

You're doing your morning routine, sitting in front of a mirror, and all you can manage to see is every pore, every new wrinkle, and those dark spots under your eyes. No matter what product you apply or thing you tweak, all you see is what you don't want to see. At that point, hopefully it dawns on you to do one simple thing...

Flip...the...mirror! 

I think so often, especially when I'm engaged in practicing or performing I forget that many mirrors have two sides. There's one side that does the job of reflecting what is there and there's the other, whose job is to magnify everything, to a slightly absurd degree.

There are good uses for both sides, both in everyday life, which I'll leave for someone else to cogitate on, and also in the daily life of the musician. It's usually in the practice room and in lessons where that magnifying side can be useful. It's looking into that side that we can see things we may have not noticed before - the small discrepancies in tempo, the slight unevenness in our fast passages, our tendency to be sharp on a certain note. That side of the mirror provides us with endless things to fix and problems to solve. 

But staring only into that side can start to play with our minds. It can frustrate us. It can make us question why we even try. It can prevent us from seeing the larger picture. It can sour us from what it is we love. That's why it's imperative that we learn two simple things...

When to flip the mirror and when to take the mirror away completely.

I'm still in the process of learning about these two options myself. Recently I've had a bit of a change of heart about how to deal with my practice room mirror. I used to follow up my high magnification practice sessions with an immediate flip, allowing myself to run through sections I had just micro-practiced to see where things stood. What I'm realizing now is that for me, more often than not, these reflections disappoint me. I want to see immediate results and to know that the hard work is going to pay off. But the fact is, things take time to settle. The brain needs time to let things sort themselves out. Or maybe the issue is that the brain isn't as easily flipped as that mirror is. Now, after a good practice on a section, I'm trying instead to turn off my childish need for instant gratification (that usually isn't gratified), and switching to something else. So far I'm feeling much better about my practice sessions. There's a lot more intrigue when you take away the mirror after a magnified session since you're not quite sure what you're going to find the next time, but is certainly less angst-filled. 

When do I use the simple reflection side of a mirror? I'm actually struggling to know how to answer that at the moment so perhaps that will need to be in another blog post. What I will say, however, is that I think music-making in general places a mirror in our hands, whether it's in the practice room or on the stage. It's unavoidable. As long as we don't stare too long and hard, and as long as we stick to that side, I think we're more likely to keep smiling as we pursue this art that is a reflection of so much more than just ourselves. 

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Music Sightreading Tips Part II: In the Moment Strategies

Last week I wrote a post that covered my top tips for how to prepare oneself before sightreading a piece of music. Today I want to share with you some of the things I think about and do once all that prep work is done and it's time to give it a go. Hang on - sightreading can be a wild, but fun ride!

Tip 1: Selecting a good tempo

Finding a good tempo requires a combination of observations that I made in my prep work. First I remind myself of the fastest, most regular note value - usually it's sixteenths (semi-quavers) or eighths (quavers.) Next I hear in my head, or physically play a passage of those faster notes at a tempo that seems appropriate and doable while also bearing in mind the title and/or tempo indication. Once I find one that I think will work I figure out what the pulse is and use that for my tempo. Sometimes, if the piece seems like it might be on the more challenging side, I'll knock the tempo down just a little bit to give myself a little extra breathing room. It's always good to strike a balance between what's indicated and what's realistic in terms of setting me up for success. 

Tip 2: Counting out loud as a lead-in

Once I've found a good tempo and I'm ready to go I take a good breath in and out, count a measure or two in the tempo and, without a pause, begin the piece. I say, "without a pause" because I've noticed some people will do a count-in measure but then break the pulse momentarily before starting. That defeats the purpose of the count-in measure. For me, those preparatory pulses are to help me get in the groove so that I'm more likely to start playing at the desired tempo. It also gets me in the mindset that it's the pulse's continuity that is the priority. 

Tip 3:  Prioritizing what's important

People often think that the priority when sightreading should be playing all the correct notes. My answer to that is, "No!!!!!!!" My first priority is keeping the pulse and playing rhythmically; second priority is playing as many of the notes on the page as I can musically. That last word, "musically," is really important here. If I can't play all the notes musically, then I don't try to play all the notes. I keep simplifying the music until I can deliver it with some musicality. It's that simple and there's no shame in that. 

Tip 4: Look ahead and listen

Sightreading is a mix of being in the moment but also looking at and processing what's coming up. How far ahead I look depends on the speed and complexity of the piece. If it's more difficult and/or fast I generally don't look as far ahead. For easier pieces, on the other hand, I try to look as far ahead as I possibly can. For an extra challenge, I also try to listen ahead as well, meaning I try to hear what's coming up so that the aural picture can guide my hands into playing notes that will sound good. This is a skill that usually needs to be practiced and developed over time but it's well worth the challenge. I also try to be actively listening to what's happening in the moment as well so that I can be responding musically to what I'm doing. Amazing isn't it? That we can be looking and hearing ahead while also playing and hearing what's happening in the moment? You can thank an amazing brain for that!

Tip 5: Read by patterns rather than note by note 

Processing the music by seeing it in patterns makes tip 4 even easier because it's less information for the brain to process. Patterns come in all shapes and sizes. Chord, scales, and arpeggios - these are all examples of patterns that pop up all the time. Then there are more complex ones too. I have a whole dictionary full of patterns I've grown to recognize and that help me read more fluently and musically. This also enables me to be able to read farther ahead in the music. 

Tip 6: Take advantage of phrases, cadences, ritards, etc...

Whenever I have an excuse, like at the end of a phrase, at big cadences, in spots marked with tenuto marks, or where there are ritards, I make sure I take time to breathe, blink my eyes, give myself a brief pep talk, regroup, or look ahead at what's coming next. Especially in slower pieces, rubato is my friend. As long as I don't add beats that aren't there and the sense of pulse is still there, even if it's stretched and pulled a bit, I feel that's perfectly acceptable. 

Tip 7: Keep eyes on the music

This is a terrifying concept for a lot of people but it's a really important skill to develop in order to be able to sightread more easily. As much as possible I keep my eyes tracking where I am in the score and a little bit ahead of where I am, as discussed in tip 4. If I break that tracking to look at my hands or the instrument, I more often than not find that I'm lost when I look back up at the score. It takes a moment to reorient myself and feel like I know what I'm doing which jeopardizes my ability to keep the pulse consistent. I've worked with a lot of pianists on sightreading and I can assure you that just about anytime a pianist looks down at the keyboard and then back up at the music, there's a microsecond of two extra that's added into their pulse. That's not fun to listen to and can be an issue if you're sightreading with others.

Tip 8: Sightread with others

There is something magical about sightreading with others, especially when there's at least one person in the group who's good at keeping a steady pulse. I also think it makes the experience more enjoyable because I can play off the other person and respond musically rather than having to come up with musical interpretations on the fly all by myself. I can focus instead on successfully reading more notes. 

Tip 9:  Don't expect perfection and have fun!

I already touched on this in tip 3, but I'm going to say it again in hopes that it will really stick. Dropping my desire for perfection is imperative when sightreading, otherwise I am sure to get tense and discouraged which leads to me not having fun. If I'm not having fun, I get even more tense and discouraged which...you get the point. It creates this circle of unpleasantness. With that said, I want to mention that there are days where I am simply not in the optimal frame of mind to sightread. When I find myself in that situation I either try again another time, when I'm in a better headspace, or I purposefully select more straight-forward music that I can sightread more successfully. Those are definitely not times to pull out something that is extra challenging. 

There you have it! Those are my tips. I imagine I left something out. If you think of something to add, please do add it in the comments.

Happy sightreading everyone!


If you would like a downloadable PDF of this sightreading prep tips sheet, please check out my Patreon site. For only $3 a month you can have access to downloadables such as this one. For $10 or more a month you'll have access to all the downloadables I post, including practice tips. You'll also be helping to support me in my quest to make practicing more accessible, interesting, and effective for everyone! 














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Music Sightreading Tips Part I: How to Prep

Sightreading music is one of the most daunting and mysterious tasks for a lot of musicians. It's really no wonder when you think about all that's involved. There's a lot of information to process in order to bring what's on the page into reality, especially in a way that is palatable to receive. There are pitches and rhythm of course but there's all the other information on the page that we need to process in order to make the performance musical, or at least remotely musical. And then there's our constant quest for "perfection," whatever that is, which really has no place when one is sightreading (that's your first important tip!)

Every Sunday during the past few months, I've spent an hour livestreaming myself sightreading in a show I call "Sightreading Maverick." Friends on social media send me requests of music in the public domain that they've found on the fabulous internet resourse, IMSLP, and I read through them one at a time. Since sightreading is an activity I have always enjoyed - I consider it the musical equivalent of extreme sports - risk filled, adrenaline pumping, and energizing - I've loved just about every moment. I've also discovered a lot of new-to-me composers who write fabulous music and I've even had a few composers bravely send their own compositions my way to appear on the show.

During Sightreading Maverick, before I begin to play each piece, I narrate what I'm looking for in the music to make sure I'm somewhat ready and not caught off guard. I thought it would be helpful to share my process and tips with everyone in two blog posts so that others might get curious enough to try their own sightreading game. This first post covers the things I look for and ask myself before I play a note. The second one, coming next week, will cover some tips for when you are in the process of sightreading.

All of these questions and tips do take time to process but with practice it does become easier. My hope is that you'll also find that the prep work will make sightreading much more satisfying and successful. And please feel free to leave your own suggestions as a comment below the post.

Question 1: How long is the piece?

This may seem silly, but I find it's helpful to know how long the piece is so that I can pace myself. If it's a really short piece, I know that even if I get flustered somewhere in the middle, it won't be very long before it's over and I can breathe again. If it's longer, I know that in this preparatory stage I'm going to want to find places to breathe, blink my eyes, and regroup.

Question 2: What is the title of the piece? 

This might also seem trivial but titles can often give you a lot of information that you can use to your advantage. Pieces with titles like "Elegy," "Nocturne," or "Reverie" are my favorite because I know that I'll be able to take a slower tempo and use more rubato. Pieces with titles like "Tarentella," "Etude," "Toccata," or "Theme and Variations" immediately put me in the frame of mind that I'm going to need to carefully and thoughtfully choose a tempo to avoid trainwrecks and tears.  I should also note that in general, if I have a choice, playing one of these more challenging ones is reserved for days when I'm feeling brave and on top of my game. 

Question 3: What is the piece's tempo indication and does it change?

Most people check out the initial tempo indication which is a good thing. It's important to get an idea of what the composer wants and what was intended. Often the tempo will change though so it's important to keep flipping and scanning the pages visually to find those instances. If there's a faster section in the middle, I usually take a moment to tell myself that when I get there I might want to pick a conservative tempo. If there's a section that's slower, I rejoice and take note that when I get there that will be a really good place to breathe, blink, listen, and enjoy a bit more.

Question 4:  What is the key signature? Major or minor? Does it change sometime during the piece? 

Always good to know the key, and especially whether or it's major or minor. It'll help you set up your ear to have the right expectation. Especially for younger pianists, playing a scale in the key of the piece can also be helpful to get it in one's ear and to get the feel of the key in one's hands. It's also good to know if and when the key changes and what it changes to. If it's a particularly challenging key, I like to see if the tempo also changes at the same time. If it happens to change to a slower tempo, hooray! That means I have more time to settle comfortably into the new key. If it changes to a faster tempo I remind myself that I better try and stay calm when I get there and to choose a conservative tempo.

 Question 5: What are the different note values involved and in particular, what is the fastest? 

Answering this question is instrumental in me choosing a good tempo. It also can help set up a rhythmic framework for what to expect. I typically start with finding the fastest note value used consistently. Usually this will be the sixteenth note (semi-quaver) or eighth note (quaver). I will then count a measure out loud and clap through the different main note values that are used, starting with the main note value (usually a quarter note/crochet) that equals the beat and then subdividing for a measure at a time until I get to the fastest note value. While doing this, I'm very conscious of how the subdivisions sound and feel, especially in relation to the beat so that I can call on the sound and sensation of them while sightreading. 

Question 6: Are there difficult rhythms or passages that leap off the page?

If I see a rhythm that looks particularly complicated I take a moment to see if I can make sense of it quickly. If I don't have time to properly analyze it I try to make sure I can see where the beats are so that I can come up with a strategy for how I'm going to try and pull it off.

If there's a passage with a lot of accidentals I try and ascertain if they're there because it's a chromatic passage or if it's because there really is a key change but the composer chose not to change the actual key signature. Often times that's the case and noting it is enough to allow me to breathe more easily and not freak out quite as much. If it is a really chromatic passage I tell myself that some interesting things might happen and that my goal will be to keep the pulse and make it through. 

If there's a a passage with a lot of notes that intimidate me, or a cadenza-like passage with lots and lots of tiny notes that don't seem to stop, I look for patterns. Almost always they are there to be found; arpeggios, scalar motives, or other types of motives. Finding these can help structure the section so that I have some sort of guide to improvise around since in those types of passages, being note perfect is not the goal. It's more important instead to get the gist across without a lot of fuss and stress. Easier said than done, I realize. 

And last but not least...

Question 7: Are there any repeats?

There are two reasons why I like to look out for these. Repeats can be handy because they can give me an opportunity to give a section another go. Of course I can also choose to ignore them when things aren't going as well. There are first and second repeats, da capos or dal segnos where you return either to the beginning of the piece or to a specific sign, and there are also codas. If I'm not aware of these before I start they really can cause a lot of stress, especially if I'm sightreading with someone else. It's always good to know the general roadmap. 

So there are my tips for you! Happy sightreading and come back next week to get some tips on how to approach sightreading once you've started playing!

To read part II in this series, click here!

If you would like a downloadable PDF of this sightreading prep tips sheet, please check out my Patreon site. For only $3 a month you can have access to downloadables such as this one. For $10 or more a month you'll have access to all the downloadables I post, including practice tips. You'll also be helping to support me in my quest to make practicing more accessible, interesting, and effective for everyone! 

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A gathering of musical minds!

I get a lot of interesting emails thanks to this blog. Most of them are not ones I end up responding to. Fortunately a few months ago I got one that did very much interest me. It was a request from the website www.sheetmusicnow.com to contribute a tip about musical success for an infographic they were wanting to put together for their website and social media accounts. Of course coming up with just one was painful so I ended up sending them a handful to choose from. (Honestly I don't know why I like Twitter so much since I obviously have a difficult time editing my brain.)

They sent me the final result today and I couldn't be more honored. I hope you enjoy these nuggets of wisdom from these other musicians, some of whom I know but most are new for me to discover too. Click here to see it.

And if you're curious about the other tips I sent them that they didn't use, here they are...

• Constantly check in to see who you are as a person and as an artist. What you find is what you should share, in the music you perform, with your colleagues, with your audience. Also be open and eager to learning about your colleagues and their music. It is through people and connections that you’ll find success and happiness.

• You will excel as a human and as a musician if you learn the art of giving yourself objective, constructive feedback on a regular basis. Constantly check the language you use with yourself with the goal to use the same language on yourself that you’d use with someone else.

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The Art of Practice Performing: bringing performing into the practice room

I don't really know where I got the idea to start making practice performing a part of my regular routine but it's now something I rely upon all the time and that I attribute to my comfort on the stage.

Let's start with what practice performing is to me.

Practice performing is a time in my practice sessions when I take off my practice hat and pretend like I am on stage performing in front of an audience - no stopping and no negative verbal commentary, with a focus on delivering a performance full of musicality.  Those are the basic facets.

Practice performing can be done at any point after I've learned the notes of a particular section, movement, or piece and when I can play it at a tempo that is somewhere in the ballpark of where I'd ultimately like to perform it.

What are the benefits of practice performing?

• Because I set the goal for myself not to stop no matter what and to say not-so-nice things to myself out loud during practice performing stints, it's great practice for when I actually do perform. It takes practice to know what to do instead. If I really do a number on a passage and my brain starts dishing out lines like, "you should have practiced more" or "you're not ready" I purposefully play a more productive, objective mental tape that I've prescribed like, "Keep singing" or "where do I want to go with this phrase?"  Doing this in the practice room on a regular basis makes it much more likely that in performance I'll choose more positive tapes and have a healthier attitude.

• It's a good assessment tool throughout the later stages of learning a piece. So often it can feel like I'm never going to get it up to speed, or that a difficult passage won't ever be comfortable. When I push myself past my comfort zone by asking myself to practice perform I often surprise myself in a good way. I realize that I can, in fact, make it through with some amount of grace and musicality in spite of missed notes or improvised passages. That's an encouraging thing and worth a lot in terms of getting me back to the practice room, especially when I'm at that frustrating plateau stage.

• Practice performing gives me a chance to switch from leaning on the analytical, left side of the brain (I like to think of it as the nerdy side), to the more creative right side. In the process of learning music and during most types of practicing the left side is what I strive to be in touch with a majority of the time. That's the side of the brain that helps solve problems and analyze the music. But that's also the side that I'd rather not have come to the party when I walk on stage. It's the right side of the brain that brings music to life, that brings creativity and imagination to a performance. When it comes time to perform and nerves kick in, guess which side likes to present itself more? Yup, the nerdy, analytical side. That's why I invite my creative side into the picture on a regular basis during these practice performing stints. It makes it more likely that I'll be able to find it when I want it at performance time.

• Often when I do practice performing I record myself so that I can listen back, not to listen for all the tiny mistakes or to allow for those annoying negative tapes to start playing, but rather to listen as if I'm an audience member. Does the music have a natural flow? Does it have a good sense of architecture about it? Are there highs and lows? Does the phrasing sound natural? Sometimes in listening back I hear hidden melodic lines I hadn't noticed before or I'm moved by a harmony that I hadn't yet noticed. It's a way to encourage constructive feedback rather than self-defeating criticism. Self-defeating criticism will cripple a performance and can be felt by the audience. Constructive feedback will allow a performance to go on successfully and in a way that can be enjoyable, even for the performer. 

• When I know that I'm going to do a practice performance of something later on in a practice session it makes it much easier for me to focus on the disciplined work and problem solving that needs to happen beforehand. 

• Practice performing helps me to fall in love with the music all over again. It also helps me get back in touch with why I study music and why I perform for others. I remember that it's not about all the individual notes being the right place at the right time, it's about the music behind those notes. 

Is practice performing fun? I think at first most musicians would answer with an emphatic "no!"; we would rather not think about performing since it's often fraught with a lot of anxiety. But just as we have to practice our music on a regular basis, I believe performing also needs to be practiced, with or without an audience. So next time you're in the practice room, take off that practice room hat and step onto the stage for a moment. You never know - you might find that performing can be pretty fun, especially when it's just for yourself and your imaginary audience. 

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Guest Post by Nathan Holder: Social Music Anxiety

A word from Erica first and then we'll get to Nathan's wise words: I met Nathan through an email he sent me about a book he's written, I Wish I Didn't Quit. I rarely respond to these emails but when I looked into his book and his background I was intrigued. I read through his book and found that he has a fresh way of looking at the purpose of private music instruction and how we can use views such as his to increase the chances that young musicians will stick with music lessons for a longer period of time. After passing on my responses to his book to Nathan and having a bit of an email chat, he asked if I'd be interested in having him write a post to be shared on my blog. I liked his topic since I'm a bit of a Twitter junkie and because I really appreciate what he has to say, so without further ado here's his post! Enjoy. And then "go be you" as he says. 

I’ve just finished practising some chromatic patterns that are really challenging me, but I’m glad that I’m finally getting to grips with them. That last hour of practice has just flown by and it’s getting late so I decide to stop for the evening. Almost as subconsciously, I reach for my phone and immediately open Instagram. I hardly have to look at my phone to access any social media apps these days; if only my fingers could navigate scales and arpeggios in the same way!
I scroll down and I see that one of my friends has posted a video of them playing their piano. I unmute the video and smile. The smile quickly turns into a look of bewilderment.

3,049 views. 

He only posted this video a couple of hours ago. I click on his username and let out a slightly audible gasp.

7209 followers! When did that happen?

I keep scrolling and see a great professional shot of another musician friend taken at one of her recent concerts.

492 likes. 16 comments.

A few profiles later and another friend of mine has posted a picture of himself in LA, about to perform at an international festival.

883 likes. 27 comments.

I check the last picture I posted of myself. 

85 likes. 2 comments. 1 is spam.

I turn my phone over in disgust. When will I get more followers? When will my videos get more comments and views? When will I get that endorsement deal? Am I not good enough? Not good looking enough? Not friends with the right people? Wrong instrument? Maybe I should just give up.

It’s so easy to look at Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms and instantly compare ourselves to other people. Those who appear to be consistently on tour, consistently gigging, consistently uploading pictures in great venues with great artists. They get their random musings retweeted, funny videos shared and seem to be supported by many organisations.

If those things aren’t happening for you, it’s easy to feel that these posts are taunting you, reminding you of all the things you don’t have. The awards you didn't win. The artists you could have performed with. If only you had paid more attention in music classes. If only you were a different gender. If only the clothes you wore were more revealing…

I think it’s important that we talk about how social media affects us as musicians. Seeing what other musicians post can stop us from sharing moments from our own musical journeys, only because we feel that our pictures or videos don’t look or sound as good as other people’s. It’s important to remember that there will always be people interested in what you do and who you are, on or off social media. Just imagine if Miles Davis had seen a post from Dizzy Gillespie and decided to never record an album? Or if Adele decided that Aretha Franklin’s music and legacy meant that no-one would care about what she had to say through her music? 

The fact is, we often have no idea about what goes on behind the scenes in other people’s lives. We have to be careful not to see other people's posts and use that to start telling ourselves how talentless, unattractive or boring we think we are. You are as unique and special in your own right just like they are. Like Jill Scott once said of Erykah Badu, ‘We all have our own thing, that’s the magic. Everybody comes with their own sense of strength and their own Queendom. Mine could never compare to her’s, and her’s could never compare to mine’. Even though someone else may have a larger following, more gigs or an endorsement, it doesn’t mean that you never will. It doesn't mean that the person is deliriously happy with their lives or even that their sense of self-worth is dependent on the likes they receive either. Their journey is their journey. Yours is yours. Express yourself knowing, as the jazz standard says, There Will Never Be Another You.

It’s also important to remember that you are not just a musician! You may be a brother, sister, aunty, parent, bookworm, gamer, writer or a foodie! Being a musician is only a percentage of the things you do, and is in no way an indication of who you are as a person. People will rarely share every aspect of themselves online and if you try to compare your whole self to the small percentage that others share about themselves, no wonder you can end up feeling as though you aren’t enough. As much as you can, try to separate what you do from who you are, even if it means spending less time looking at what others care about, and spending more time on what you care about.

If you feel any of the emotions I’ve written about in this post, don’t keep it to yourself. Talk to the people around you and I’m sure you’ll be surprised at how many people have had similar thoughts to you. If you need to take a break from Instagram or Twitter then do it - it’ll be waiting for you when you get back. As much as I think (and know) that social media can be a powerful tool to help you learn and grow, it’s increasingly important to understand how you feel in relation to it. No matter what, don’t let other people’s pictures or videos stop you from sharing your practising, your gigs or your music.

You never know who you might inspire.

And I guarantee there is someone looking at your profile who wishes they could be like you!

So be you.

Be sure to visit Nathan's webpage where he regularly publishes informative posts and podcasts. You can also follow him on Facebook, and Twitter.

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From the kitchen to the stage: the importance of trusting oneself

Today I realized that great cooks and musicians have something in a common - they have learned to let go and to trust their senses.  They have learned that interpreting great dishes or musical compositions goes beyond technique and mere re-creation into a realm that incorporates their own experiences, whims, and moods,  blending them seamlessly with where their audiences are, even if their audiences don't even know themselves where they are or where they want to be taken.

These ideas have been floating around in my head for a while now but they seem to have all collided while I was watching a movie from a few years back called "Today's Special."  It's a fun, romantic, heart-warming foodie movie about a young sous-chef that has worked for years in a restaurant in New York City.  When a promotion doesn't come his way and he confronts the executive chef for an explanation, he receives an honest but painful evaluation - he doesn't have the passion, vision, daring, and creativity that it takes to be the soul behind a restaurant.

This news comes as a blow of course, and launches Samir, the main character, into a fairly predictable journey of introspection.  He ends up reluctantly helping out his father in the family's Indian restaurant that has been struggling to survive.  Having abandoned Indian cooking since he was a boy, Samir does everything to keep the restaurant alive except plan and prepare the dishes himself - he hires a taxi driver he had serendipitously met instead.  This taxi driver, Akbar, is a big of a magical character.  During the resurrection of the restaurant, he teaches Samir some very important lessons about cooking which I also want to translate for musicians for the remainder of this blog post.  In one scene Akbar turns the kitchen over to Samir, encouraging him to try his own hand at combining traditional Indian spices in order to create a "perfect" masala.  Samir looked bewildered and disturbed since there were no measuring implements or recipes anywhere in sight.  With Akbar's encouragement and repeated philosophy that one just needs to use one's head, heart, and stomach, Samir gives it a try - a dash of this, a gentle pouring of that, and so on.  In the end, is it "right?"  Akbar doesn't seem to savor the results but he approaches the moment as any good teacher should.  He admits that it doesn't seem quite right while at the same time affirming that what Samir has done was good anyway.  The lesson was not about "right" or "perfect," it was about letting go, listening, smelling, feeling, and creating.

I am convinced that even beginning students should be given plenty of opportunities to let go and to experience music making and learning in a way that involves more of their senses.  I believe that we teach musicians to rely too much on reading every note on the page, note-by-note-by-note.  We don't teach how to read music as a language.  Similarly we teach students to read every indication on the page and to follow them without necessarily knowing why they are there.  As a result, students don't feel that they have the tools they need to make music on their own.  If someone handed them a piece of music without any fingering, pedal marks, bowings, etc...my guess it they would feel just as bewildered and disturbed as Samir was in the movie without recipes or measuring implements.

As I have mentioned on my blog and on my Facebook page, I don't consider myself a teacher even though I spend most of my waking moments thinking about the process or learning.  At the moment I have one adult student who I consider my guinea pig for all of my philosophies and strange notions and oddly enough, at her lesson this morning, long before I watched this movie, we had a series of very similar moments to the movie scene I described above.  In the past few weeks at our lessons I have increased the amount of times I intentionally pull the music away from my student and ask her to narrate to me what's going on the music and what her understanding of the music means to her.  Today we did even more of that.  I had her re-create several passages to the best of her ability based on her narrative, without the music anywhere in sight.  She kept asking to see the music but for the most part I kept saying, "Say what you know and we'll go from there."  I certainly didn't expect "perfection" but what I did want to encourage was thoughtfulness and complete engagement and she accomplished what I was after brilliantly.   This type of work terrified, and probably really annoyed her, but as the music has gotten more and more complicated and she has still managed to work out how to accomplish what I'm asking for, she has gotten more and more confident.  She has also started making more decision of her own regarding musicality, pedaling, and the like because she understands the tools and the techniques.  For me it is thrilling to see how much she can process with just a little help and guidance from me and it leaves me speechless when I see how surprised she is by her own ability to comprehend music as a language after only one year of lessons.  She does not need to keep looking at all those notes and scribbles on the page.  She can see it as a language and use her head, heart, and not necessarily her stomach, but her ears to guide her music-making.  At today's lesson she had several moments where she seemed genuinely shocked by how easy it was to play the music by letting go and thinking of the music as a language.   But this takes trust and I believe we need to practice trusting ourselves at our instruments.

Which leads me to the title of the movie and one of my favorite things about it.  As many restaurants do, the Indian restaurant in the movie has a sign that hangs in the window to list the daily special.  One day when Samir comes to work he sees that Akbar has listed this instead of an actual dish...

Trust me

Exactly.  Trust me - trust you.  It takes courage but trust me, there is incredible growth and creativity that comes from letting go and trusting all your senses - not just your eyeballs.  Speak the language of music, not just notes.  It's worth it.

Trust me.

You will hear more, feel more, love more...and so will your audience.

Trust me.

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Berry picking in the practice room

It seems I am incapable of doing any activity without relating it to practicing, even in the summer, when my mind could and maybe should be thinking about beaches, lemonade, reading a good novel, or just resting.

A few weeks ago I woke up greeted by a spectacularly beautiful morning.  I could feel the gentle breeze through the window, and although I suspected the sun would make an appearance sometime in the day, clouds were still keeping her in bed. I could have done my usual, readied myself for the day and headed off to work but I was struck instead with an undeniable desire for fresh berries. I quickly got ready, ate some breakfast, and headed off to our local u-pick berry farm.  I am so thankful I listened to that little voice inside that was tantalizing me with the thought of fresh, sweet berries, because I walked away from that outing with a lot more than a bucket of berries - I walked away with the realization that I had also learned a lot about the process of learning and practicing.

I chose to start with picking blackberries even though the owner had informed me that the bushes have been picked virtually clean the previous day. (Yes, I am stubborn...ask my parents or my husband!)  I found one of the rows he had recommended, stepped up to the bush and started looking. I couldn't see much of anything, only a tiny wimpy berry here and there - not particularly what I had in mind.   At that point I could have given up and walked away, trying my luck with blueberries instead but like I said, I'm stubborn.  I squatted on the ground and gingerly lifted a thorny branch - nothing.  I tried looking under another one -  still nothing but a few under-ripe ones.   For some reason I then had the notion to simply look up into the bush.  Jackpot!  (This is when I could use sound effects on the blog!) I was greeted by the sight of berries that looked like they were trying to keep themselves secret indefinitely.  Clink, clink, clink...into my bucket they went and armed with my new tactic, which I expanded to include standing on my toes to find berries at the tops of the bushes, I was set for the rest of morning.

Another thing I've learned through berry picking is how important it can be to let go and try things out in an effort to learn what it is I like.  Being the city girl that I am was, I thought that blackberries were blackberries, blueberries were blueberries.  But that's not exactly the way it is!  There are tons of different types, each with their own texture, color, size, and most importantly, taste.  For the past few years I have picked blueberries at this farm from the same bushes that reside in one specific area and have ignored everywhere else. (In addition to being stubborn I am also a creature of habit.)   In a recent visit, however, one of the owners was encouraging me to try a different spot, on a different hill (gasp!).  This was a scary prospect for me.  How would I know which bushes to pick from?  How would I know if they were ripe?  My friend set me free with these words - "Just taste some from different bushes and see which ones you like the best!"  

Ohhhhhhhh...(Do you hear the click of the lightbulb going on?) 

I suddenly realized I didn't have to blindly pick berries hoping that they would be something that I'd like or that would be ripe enough.  I could experiment, I could sample, and in the process learn a lot about not only berries but also myself.  In fact, that's what I should have been doing all along!  And that's what we can and should do in the practice room as well.  We shouldn't expect ourselves to magically know what musical choices will suit us or our audiences best without playing around.  We can use our practice room as our berry farm where we can experiment, taste, savor, or even spit out musical ideas.  The magic is in the adventure!

So go on!  Get yourself to your local berry farm and get picking!  Then go practice.  You're bound to find something sweet in both places.  

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The myth of the perfect performance

© RedDaxLuma - Fotolia.com

I will insist on continuing to work with young musicians because it is from them that I get a glimpse into their minds and reminders of what I so often take for granted as a more seasoned player.  Such was the case this past week as I was rehearsing with a singer in preparation for the ever-so-popular jury week.

Rehearsal after rehearsal, performance after performance, I am amazed at how young singers evaluate their own performances.  So often a "successful" run-through or performance means one thing and one thing only - they have sung all the correct words in the correct order.  Who cares if it was heartfelt, gripping, and musical?  If a word gets jumbled or, gasp, made up, forget it!  Throw in the towel!  Vow to never perform again!  Beat yourself up!  Sure that might sound dramatic but that's what a lot of young singers feel which means I end up spending a lot of my time trying to convince them otherwise.

Which brings me to the rehearsal this week.

We were rehearsing and she had the inevitable word stumble which caused her to stop mid-song.  Seeing as juries are right around the corner I decided it was time for a little intervention.  I said to her, "Don't worry about mixing up a word or two in a song.  It really, really doesn't matter once you get out there onto that stage.  It happens to every singer including all those teachers that will be hearing your jury next week.  They've all messed up words."  Her response to me?  "Right. I need to remember that most professionals forget a word once or twice in their career." 

Did you catch that?

"Once or twice in their career."

At that point I saw in my mind's eye a giant, neon flashing sign that said, "LEARNING OPPORTUNITY!!" 

Smiling I said, "Oh my...try once or twice in every performance!  How's that for a mind-blowing fact?!"  

She genuinely looked surprised at this little reality check which then provided another reality check for me.  It is so easy for professional musicians to forget that we are, in essence, fooling our audiences a lot of the time, especially when we're truly wearing our hearts on our sleeves when we perform.  That is the magic of great performing, right?  The little details no longer matter when what we're delivering is the gift of live music-making, great music, and ourselves.  But the problem with this can also be that young musicians have no idea how human we are, that mistakes are an inevitability, and that much of our skill as professionals has to do with not sweating the things that aren't "perfect."  I'm not quite sure what a solution to this would be.  Perhaps we could have a scoreboard onstage and at the end of every piece it could show the percentage of notes and words we got correct but then that's focusing on the wrong thing, isn't it?  Because it really doesn't matter!  

I think that part of the solution is for professionals, especially those working with young musicians, to be transparent with their students about their own performances - to share what might not have been "perfect" but to do so without attaching any guilt or remorse about it.  I also think it's important for us to focus on the things that do matter more when we're reflecting on performances, either our own or someone else's.  Did we feel like we connected with the audience?  Did we enjoy the music ourselves?  Did we make music?  Did we have fun?  It's the answers to questions such as these that can lead to pride and a feeling of success which can then lead to a desire to get back onto the stage to experience it all over again...and again...and again.

In an effort to help students get a more realistic view of my own performing I have, for the past three years, required my accompanying class students to turn pages for me multiple times during the semester.  Backstage I am very honest with them about which pieces are more troublesome than others and that make me a little more nervous; onstage they have the opportunity to see how many notes I leave out; then offstage again I share with them how I feel about the performance, not in a nit-picky way, but in a more general way.  It's been rewarding for me to do this because so many of those students seem to have gotten  better in their own performing with just going on no matter what happens.  They genuinely seem less freaked out about not being perfect which means they can focus more on what really is more important.  I think that's a better alternative than going up on stage hoping that "once or twice in a career" mistake doesn't happen.  

So let's all get a little more honest about our performances so that our students don't have the mistaken impression that we aren't human.  We would all benefit, I think, from us allowing ourselves and young musicians to be human so that music will become music again...not just "perfect" reproductions.

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