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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Lesson learned while trying not to be a piano diva

pia.no di.va
Pianist who demands that attention be paid to his or her needs, 
especially without regard to anyone else's needs or feelings.

Perhaps it's silly of me, but I actually work pretty hard to not be a piano diva.  I have many reasons for this but in all honesty, my biggest motivation behind my efforts is that I actually kind of enjoy the odd challenges and obstacles that arise when I'm not very piano diva-ee.  I've played on tons of out of tune pianos, of course; electric keyboards have been a frequent instrument at my disposal; poorly regulated pianos are really quite amusing and are a good test of one's short-term memory (which key was it that sticks out?)   But sometimes my attitude has ended me in situations that haven't been quite as fun - Puccini arias on a small electric keyboard that didn't have a sustain pedal; playing the organ part of the Faure Requiem with a professional orchestra on a very good electric keyboard/organ, but one without a sustain pedal available and not with the full range of keys; a severely out of tune piano that also had several missing black keys...that last one was at a jail which made the experience even more noteworthy (pun completely intended.)

A few weeks ago I was asked last minute, by a friend with whom I haven't played with in a while, if there was any chance I could fly out to Lake Tahoe to play a cello recital with her full of repertoire that I absolutely adore.  Of course I had to say yes!  I love, love, love pinch-hitting...almost as much as I love trying not to be a piano diva.  

As I was preparing to fly out there, the cellist asked if it would be all right with me if we just rehearsed at her house the night I arrived - that she'd have a good keyboard available to use.  I think you can guess my answer.

When I got there, we rehearsed using the keyboard.  Not that I'm being a piano diva here, but this was an older keyboard that was touch sensitive, but not in the way that keyboards today are touch sensitive.  But it didn't really bug me.  Remember, I enjoy little challenges like this.  I was pretty quick to discover that it all had to do with the speed at which I pressed down the keys.  The faster I pressed down, the louder it was.  The trick was to play a fast passage quietly.  Try that sometime!  It really is quite fun!

At the end of the evening my friend asked what I wanted to do the next day (the day before the performance).  Did I want to drive all the way to Tahoe, about an hour away, to rehearse in the church on the piano or should we just continue to rehearse at her place.  

Can you guess my response?

The day of the performance she asked when I thought we should get to the church.  In my non-piano diva fashion I said, "If we get there an hour-and-a-half or so before that should be fine.  After all, I didn't want to get in the way of any church activities that might be going on.

We get to the church and as I'm warming up I notice a couple of keys sticking.  Not just sort of sticking.  Seriously sticking.  Non-piano diva Erica thought, "No problem, I can deal with this...maybe."  We rehearsed just a tiny bit and pretty quickly realized that my attitude was not a good thing in this situation.  I immediately switched gears and did the first thing I could think of...call my piano technician...from Virginia...who was at that moment driving to New York City.  After trying a couple of tactics he gave me, I thought we had fixed the situation so I ended our conversation and went backstage to get ready.

Recital started with Prokofiev's Cello Sonata...for the first page or so, no sticking notes...brilliant!  Then it started...again...and the number of rebellious notes seemed to grow quite rapidly and with most notes sticking for about 10 seconds each time...if not longer.  I did a lot of lifting-back-up-the keys when I could, edited some of the music when I could...I also kept pushing back on the keys in between movements to try and get the keys farther away from the board that is in front of the keyboard.  It was all pretty "interesting".

Second piece was Arvo Pärt's "Spiegal am Spiegal" - 10 minutes of exquisite minimalist beauty.  While the cellist was talking to the audience about the piece (fortunately that took a few minutes),  I made a few more attempts at pushing back on the action, I glanced up at the music and at that moment it dawned on me how many notes in the music where ones that were notes that were sticking.  At that moment, I have to admit I started to sweat.  But I was determined to make it work and to make it work in such a way that the audience wouldn't be distracted by what was, or wasn't happening at the keyboard.

Thankfully, the Pärt is slow.
Thankfully, it is meditative.
Thankfully, there aren't a lot of notes to play and the left hand has LOTS of time to serve as the key picker-upper.

Believe it or not, we made it.  How well did it come across?  I have absolutely no idea.  What I do know is that the minute they stopped clapping I was back on the phone with my technician, asking him for reassurance that if I took the piano apart and removed that wood strip in front of the keys, that the action wouldn't drop out of the bottom of the piano.  He said it would be fine, gave me some pointers so that I didn't accidentally rip off key tops, and within minutes, we were all set.  No more sticking keys.

Phew!  That is a long story!  But here's what I learned and want to pass on to other pianists...

It's ok to not want to be a piano diva but it's wise not to take that too far.  

Needless to say, I just had a solo piano performance this past week and you better believe I made a point of going several days early to try out the piano!

And no...sticking...keys!

One more thing...Andy Lyford, our amazing piano technician, I owe you a lot of cookies!  Or whatever you want!!  I owe you!!!


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Making sense of Strauss through botany

Yes, you read that correctly.  In the course of this one blog post I am going to attempt to use a brief study in botany to unravel an issue I am having in the accompaniment to a song by Richard Strauss.

Ready?

My problem started with a rehearsal I had with a student vocalist.  I was sightreading Strauss' song, Gefunden.  Everything was going along swimmingly and I was thoroughly enjoying the tranquillity of the piece when we reached the last four measures of the song.  All of a sudden I felt incredibly disoriented.  I stopped the singer, looked at her part to make sure she was singing her line correctly, looked at my part to make sure I was playing the right notes, and then said, "Something isn't right.  I think there must be a mistake in the music."  The singer told me she had sung it over the summer and didn't remember anyone mentioning any misprints in the score so we decided to proceed as if all was well, with me declaring at the end of rehearsal that I would look into the misprint possibility.

 Last night I decided to face the music and see what I could make of the situation.  Pulling out the score and opening my laptop to YouTube I found a reputable recording and took a listen.  According to Hans Hotter and Geoffrey Parsons, musicians I figured I could trust, my score was, alas, correct.  Ugh.  Why? Why? Why?

Never wanting to grow enemies with something, especially in music, I decided to do what I do when I find myself starting to glower at the piano or the music.  I became determined to figure out what on earth Strauss was thinking when he wrote the part I didn't like.  (Notice the past tense there...this post is going to have a happy ending!)

The first thing I did was I looked up the translation of the song, reading first through the entire poem, and then focusing on the text in my thorn-in-my-side spot.  Here is a link in case you're curious.  It's a lovely poem by Goethe...the protagonist walks in the woods, encounters a flower which he bends down to pick, has a little conversation with same flower who asks him not to pick her, he digs it up instead and replants it near a house where it grows and blooms.  Lovely, right?  So what are the words when the crunchy, dissonant part occurs?  Here they are:

Now it keeps growing
and goes on blooming. 

OK.  Well, that didn't explain anything to me.  I still didn't get what Strauss is doing because I can't see any hint of negativity or angst in those words so I decided to try something else - looking at some theory.

Now before anyone stops reading this post out of fear and distaste for theory, let me assure you, this is not going to get terribly messy.  I am not a music theory nerd and I didn't do that well at it in school but I've always tried to apply it to my understanding of the pieces I'm working on.  My journey with theory, I'm sure, will never end and I'm always trying to learn more through direct application.  With that said, let's look at the score.

I'm great at looking at keys so let's do that and see if it gets us anywhere.  The song is in F major and for the most part it's straight-forward harmonically, although he does move into A-flat major several times.  But then we get to the first measure on the bottom line, which is pictured above.  Here, the piano, with no warning at all, goes into D-flat major while this time, the voice stays in F major.  F and D-flat major are not the closest of keys and if you look at that first measure you'll see that while the singer is singing a D the piano is playing A-flats, G-flats, E-flats, and C's.  Oh my - lots of dissonance!  Even at the end of that measure, the singer moves down to a C but there's also a D-flat just a half-step up from that in the piano part.  The second measure is not quite as crunchy but I feel pretty confused about where Strauss is going harmonically until the second half of the measure when the piano part abruptly shifts yet again, but this time back to F major to join what the voice has been doing all along.

At this point in my investigation I was intrigued.  I felt like I was definitely onto something.  I looked back at the text again, read the entire poem several times, and tried to picture what was going on.  It was then that the proverbial lightbulb went off over my head.

In this story, a flower, roots and all, gets dug up, carried away, and transplanted to a different location.  I'm not a great gardener but I have tried my hands at it enough to know that moving plants from one place to another has its risks.  Transplant shock is a real possibility which can cause a plant to die.  Perhaps that is what is happening in these two measures at the end of Gefunden.  The piano part is like the plant being suddenly plopped in a completely different place, dealing with new soil, light, and exposure to the elements.  There is a sense of conflict and discomfort.  By the middle of the second measure, however, it has thankfully adjusted and finds itself growing and thriving once again.

Perhaps I'm being far-fetched but in my mind, who cares?  What matters is that now I have an explanation, at least for myself, of why the accompaniment is the way it is.  And now I am eager to try it out with the singer and to see what I can do to make it all work together in the artistic way Strauss probably intended.

Success!  I told you this would have a happy ending, as virtually all my musical investigations do.

I'll leave you in the hands of Hotter and Parsons...enjoy!





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Let me count the ways - a piano collaborator's ode to an artform

I recently had the great joy of giving a masterclass for young pianists who were trying their hands, many for the first time I believe, at collaborating with their peers.  Readers of my blog will not be surprised to hear that I ate up every moment of our time together.  I am a huge advocate for enlisting pianists into the collaborative piano field because I believe there are many advantages of spending at least part of one's time and career in this role, whether one is a student, amateur, or professional.  I also believe our world needs more skilled pianists that are willing to serve musicians of all ages and abilities.  Although I realize I've outlined some of these advantages in at least one other blog post, I'm going to do it again with the hope that something new will pop up this time around and that maybe this post will catch the eye of someone new.

In my mind, here are some of the benefits of learning how to accompany, especially at an early age:

• It's a social way for pianists to be involved in music-making.  So much of our time is spent alone in the practice room.  It is more difficult, as pianists, to find opportunities to make music with others.  Especially for high schoolers I think this social outlet can help keep someone in the game who might otherwise quit.

• It gives pianists a sense of purpose and of being needed.  An extension of my first point, solo playing can start to feel a bit selfish after a while.  At least for me it can start to feel like I'm doing it solely because I like doing it or because I like the music.  When I throw another person into the mix, however, I sense a shift in purpose.  It's no longer about "me" but rather about "us."  I like that!  Even when the accompaniment part is one of those "easy" ones that require little practice, I still know that without it the music would not be the same.  Being a collaborator puts me in a role that inspires the nurturing, guiding, supporting side of myself.  It feels great to be needed and for a young person, feeling needed can make a dark, lonely, seemingly pointless world seem a lot brighter.

• When pianists collaborate they are opening the doors to countless libraries of new and different repertoire.   I realize that as pianists we have so much music at our fingertips that we need not fear running out at any time, but I think most people enjoy having an excuse to check out other composers and styles of music.  Granted, some of it can be downright scary and un-pianistic, (thank you Paris Conservatory for your yearly competitions that seem to have inspired some of the most devilishly tricky piano parts!) But even then, all that different repertoire keeps life interesting and our brains working in full gear.  Maybe collaborators live longer thanks to the intense mental workouts we put ourselves through.  Somehow I doubt there's been a study on that topic.

• Collaborating gives us many more opportunities to perform.  Having just a few solo performances a year can make every performing experience a daunting one and it makes it challenging to practice performing.  When we collaborate, however, we often find ourselves performing more than we ever thought we would or even could.  It gives us lots of practice in a safe way.  And for me, because I'm in a support role, any nerves I might have tend to be outweighed by my desire to be there for the person with whom I'm playing.  Another advantage is that when collaborating, memory isn't necessary.  For those students for whom memory can be a stressor, being able to use music in performance can be an encouraging experience that leads to more confidence.  In time, successes can infuse courage into music-free solo performances as well.

• Playing with different instruments and voice types can open up our ears to new sounds and different timbres.  I can often guess when a pianist hasn't worked much with other instrumentalists or singers because their sound tends to be very vanilla.  Having grown up in a fantastic youth orchestra as a cellist surrounded by the most incredible sounds, I have those different timbres, colors, and densities of sound in my mind even when I'm at the piano.  I strive to pull an orchestra out of the piano strings, pedals, and hammers.  Rarely does a young pianist have the opportunity to participate in an orchestra so accompanying with different types of musicians should be a part of their education in my mind.  It gives them a palette of multiple colors, textures, and thicknesses rather than just a few shades of black and white.

• Working as a team player brings a pianist a different motivation to work hard.  No pressure here, fellow pianists, but in my opinion a pianist can make or break a performance in a collaborative situation.  That's not to say that the pianist has to play the music perfectly - I don't believe in the importance of note-perfect performances because I think that's unrealistic and simply not the point.  But I do think the pianist has a lot of responsibility on his or her shoulders.  Time spent in the practice room is for a very clear cause and that sense of purpose can lead to a pointed concentration that can carry on into a pianist's solo practicing as well.

• It can help pianists let go of their quest for "perfection."  I think it's safe to say that most professional collaborators learn that delivering a note-perfect performance is rarely, if ever, possible.  I daresay sometimes it's not even desirable especially when we're talking about an orchestral reduction for which the arranger was paid by each note he jumbled the page with.  (I've heard this is why so many of the reductions are as beastly as they are!)  Check out my blog post, "Confessions of a piano collaborator" from several years ago to read about some of my creative escapades on the keyboard.  There are usually lightbulb moments once a pianist realizes that people rarely if ever realize when he or she has judiciously left out notes or artfully re-arranged the music.  And once this revelation has been made, wrong notes in a solo performance don't seem nearly as disastrous either.  The focus instead falls on the music and on expression - always a good thing in my book!

• There's nothing quite like collaborating to reveal any weaknesses one may have in regards to rhythm and pulse.  To extend my earlier point about working as a team player, it becomes clear quite quickly that a collaborator can't add beats here and there or fudge rhythms as successfully when there is someone else whose part needs to interlock with the pianist's part.  The pianist needs to be the conductor at all times, without fail, all the while also being sensitive and aware of anyone else.  

• When working with singers especially, collaborating can bring a new dimension into musical interpretation.  Pianists so often have to dig deep in order to come up with a storyline or something to say in their music unless it's clearly programmatic.  Singers have the great advantage of having text to inspire their musical decisions.  Working with vocal literature can inspire more drama and creativity when it comes to the interpretation of solo piano literature. 

• After some experience, collaborating can improve one's sight-reading skills and can help pianists see the value of developing them further.  I believe that it is very difficult to work on this skill on one's own.  It's much easier when there's another musician playing along, especially someone that's able to play or sight-read at a higher level.  My mother made me play duets with her regularly starting at a very early age.  I whined and groaned about it a lot at the time but I really should send her a bouquet of flowers every week for the rest of her life to thank her for doing that!

• Rehearsals require a level of verbal communication that will serve anyone well in whichever field they end up in.  In order for rehearsals to be productive, good communication has to happen between musicians that are playing with one another.  It takes time and practice to get good at it but it's so worth the effort.  I once tweeted that if politicians conducted business the way musicians conduct rehearsals the world would be a much better place.  I still believe that to be true and judging from the reaction of others to that tweet, I'm not alone.  

• If we can get young pianists interested and experienced in collaborating at a young age they will be more likely to use their skills as an adult, regardless of whether or not they are professionals.  I can tell you that especially outside of big cities, there is a desperate need for skilled pianists to accompany in the community.  Whether it's for church choirs, local music studios, in the schools, or in the community, there need to be more pianists that feel comfortable collaborating.  It helps that is also a good way to earn some money doing something social and personally satisfying. 

Can you tell I love what I do?  Sigh...

Those are just a few of my thoughts on the topic.  If anyone has any to add, by all means, please do by commenting at the end of this post! 

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Want to know what I think about practicing?

A few weeks ago Sam Rao, the CEO and developer of a soon to be released practice app called Practicia, asked me to do an interview with him.  As usual I had a bit of a difficult time keeping my answers short and sweet - I always have so much to say about practicing!  I wanted to share the interview here since we covered a lot of ground.  And if you want to read my blog post about Practicia, just click here.  Enjoy!

PRACTICIA: What started you on the path to thinking about practicing and becoming a practice coach?
EAS: My role as a practice coach evolved very naturally alongside my role as a piano collaborator and accompanist. I spend a lot of time in practice rooms with students for rehearsals and I have a very hard time just playing. Maybe I should say it this way – I have a difficult time keeping my mouth shut, especially when I can tell that a musician is frustrated with a certain passage in the music or when I hear the same mistakes being made. As soon as I started speaking up and offering to help musicians work through problems I realized what a relief it can be for people to have some guidance in the practice room. Of course teachers are crucial in helping students learn the art of practicing but more often than not the time spent with one another is only an hour a week during lessons. Students are then left on their own for 7 times that amount if they practice an hour a day. If they practice 3 hours a day, 6 times a week, that’s 17 hours. That’s a lot of time to be frustrated - too much time, in my book.

The teachers of the students with whom I have worked, have also grown to value my work because I act as a fresh, new voice. It’s like a common issue that parents deal with - as a parent I can tell my child 10 times to do something but have no effect on her. But if a teacher or someone she respects asks her to do the exact same thing she immediately follows through. I enjoy helping teachers by reinforcing and elaborating on what they are trying to teach their students and being there in the practice room to help bring the process of refinement from the studio into the practice room – to help the students become independent “practicers”.

Last but not least, I was encouraged to take my role as a practice coach more seriously when I began tweeting about practicing several years ago. It quickly became clear that there is a lot of mystery that surrounds the topic and I felt it was time to change that. Being open about my frustrations and joys in the practice room and on the stage has inspired a lot of valuable conversation between professionals, amateurs, and students alike and that’s a good thing, I think.

I truly believe people want to talk about practicing and to learn how to improve what they do on their own – my goal is to be there to guide and to cheer folks on in that pursuit because regardless of whether or not they become musicians professionally, the skills learned by practicing well are the skills that are most needed in our society – problem solving, collaboration, creativity, and persistence.

PRACTICIA: What is the value of a practice "boot camp"?
EAS: The practice boot camp gives me the opportunity to look at the whole of what a musician is doing in the practice room rather than just focusing on specific issues that they might have. When people sign up for this service I ask them to videotape themselves while practicing for either one large chunk of time, preferably around 45 minutes, or in smaller chunks. It’s amazing how reluctant most people are to doing this! That, in itself, is very revealing. I then watch the recordings on my own and am able to pick up just about everything I need to know to begin the work of revamping a client’s approach to practicing. Through the video recordings I am able to catch visual and audio cues, many of which are psychological and have nothing to do with technique, that give me a glimpse into what’s going on in the client’s mind. After putting together a detailed list of recommendations, I go over them with the clients, either in person or via the Internet, and answer any questions that they may have. Together the client and I come up with a plan of action for the next week or so after which they make another recording for me to review after they’ve had a chance to tweak their practicing. After another follow-up the client is usually well on his or her way to adopting a new attitude that allows them to healthfully and effectively work independently.

PRACTICIA: How did you come up with the title "Beyond the Notes" for your website?
EAS: I came up with that name back in 2009 when I started writing my blog by the same name. One of the things I’ve noticed with young musicians especially is that there is a strong focus on the individual notes on the page. All those black dots tend to overwhelm rather than inspire. My goal is to help musicians see beyond those black dots in order to see the fascinating language they create and to learn to speak in that language so that their own emotions and experiences can be spoken through music.

PRACTICIA: In your opinion, why do most students struggle with practicing?
EAS: I believe many students struggle because done the traditional way, full of mindless repetition while counting down minutes on the clock, it is usually mind-numbingly boring and devoid of creativity and thought. It isn’t fun to practice that way. And when practicing is mindless, effective practicing tends not to happen which means mistakes are more likely to occur and endless repetitions take forever to be fruitful. We are human. We like to see results. We like to feel successful. The traditional way of practicing, in my opinion, doesn’t get us to that point which is why heading to the practice room can often feel like torture. I truly believe that if we can make practicing a creative process, a mystery that requires us to ask lots of interesting questions, or a game that encourages us to quickly and accurately learn music, practicing can become something that musicians look forward to and not dread

PRACTICIA: What are the most common practice flaws that you have observed?
EAS:
-Playing too quickly or too slowly.
-Not stopping when mistakes occur to figure out what caused the mistake and problem solving.
-Starting from the beginning too much of the time.
-Starting with the easiest material and leaving the hardest parts for later, when you’re brain and body are already tired.
-Talking to oneself negatively rather than giving oneself neutral feedback.
-Not having an understanding of rhythm, meter, and pulse.
-Trying to do too much at once (learning left and right hand at the same time; a singer trying to learn pitches, rhythms, and text at the same time)
-Not isolating problem spots and then once learned, working it back into the fabric of the piece.
-Depending too much on the metronome to provide a steady pulse.
-Not writing fingerings, bowings, breathes or accidentals in the score.

PRACTICIA: How can teachers help improve the quality of student practice?
EAS: I think teachers can help the student develop a healthy vocabulary to use in the practice room. Rather than saying, “That was horrible!” for instance, the teacher can help the student re-think how to address what they didn’t like and to rephrase it in a more neutral tone… “I think I want a more warm sound here. Let’s try that again.” I also think teachers can help students to see what good problem solving can look like. Lessons go by so quickly that I think it can be tempting for us as teachers to jump right in when we hear something we like to direct what should be done rather than walking the student through a process. Time may not always allow for this but a little bit would go a long way. Or perhaps teachers could intentionally set aside a portion of a lesson now and then to do some guided practice with their students

I would also encourage teachers to livestream or videotape their own practice sessions for their students to watch. As teachers, we are like superheroes to our students. I don’t think they realize that we too are human…that we have good and bad days in the practice room, that we get stumped, and that we make mistakes, even. I livestreamed my practice sessions for a while a couple of years ago and was amazed at the positive feedback from teachers, professional musicians, students…everyone. Practicing is an art, but it shouldn’t be a mystery.

With the soon-to-be-unveiled app, PRACTICIA, teachers will also be able to check in on their students’ practicing and to offer suggestions during the time in between lessons. I’m very eager to see how we can use this to encourage more thoughtful, encouraging, and effective practicing.

PRACTICIA: How can parents (especially those without a musical background) help their children work better?
EAS: Instead of focusing on how much time is spent in the practice room, a pretty common thing for parents and teachers to focus on, parents can help their kids choose small, do-able, mini goals. When something gets in the way of achieving those goals, parents can help the student problem solve. “Why are you stuck? Do you know what bowing you’re supposed to be doing? Do you know what fingering you should be using?” Parents can also ask questions to inspire creativity. “What does this part of the piece sound like to you? Does it sound like someone who’s happy? Do you think there might be a conversation going on here or maybe even an argument?” I think parents can also help students to identify when they need to walk away from the instrument when they are getting frustrated and problem solving isn’t getting anywhere. Sometimes breaks are necessary but this can be challenging to accept when the focus is on getting in that half-hour the teacher requires every day. Keep this in mind, though - bad practicing can undermine good practicing in a very short amount of time and the state of mind a musician tends to have when practicing is the state of mind they will have on the stage in performance. Cultivating a positive attitude in the practice room will pay off when it comes time to perform.

In summary, even if a parent doesn’t have a musical background I believe he or she can help the student move away from practicing that is boring, mindless, and frustrating.

PRACTICIA: What do you think about extrinsic vs. intrinsic motivation in practicing?
EAS: I am not a huge extrinsic motivation fan myself but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a good thing. Ever since I started music, when I was 5, I have been intrinsically motivated and for that I’m grateful. It probably saved my parents and my teacher a lot of stickers and M&Ms too! But I realize I may have been a bit of an odd child. With that said, I think that especially with younger children, rewards can be very motivating as long as they aren’t bribes. (They are different!) I do think, however, that a good goal for parents and teachers is to help make music learning and practicing creative and positive enough that children will quickly become inspired on their own to engage mindfully in practice. They will see that how they choose to practice and deal with difficulties directly affects the outcome and then those outcomes keep improving and they see and hear what they are capable of, magical things can start to happen in a self-directed way.

PRACTICIA: What is the value of practicing away from the instrument? Can it be overdone?
EAS: I am a huge advocate for practicing away from the instrument for many reasons. It inspires creativity and kinesthetic learning; it enables a student to process notes on the page without involving technical issues that arise the minute he or she is at the instrument; it can also be done anywhere, anytime. With younger students I think practicing away from the instrument can be overdone. Students need a certain amount of time with their instrument, developing technique and making musical patterns part of their language. As students get older, however, I think the ratio between at-the-instrument and away-from-the-instrument practice can shift. There are many stories of professionals that learn pieces on the plane on the way to the concert – that’s definitely one end of the spectrum and would be an interesting goal for any musician to shoot for eventually.

PRACTICIA: How important do you think is musical knowledge (theory, solfege etc) in practicing?
EAS: I think it is very important – it is one way to get “beyond the notes” and leads to interpretation rather than just regurgitation. But theory can be intimidating for many students, myself included, which is why I think it’s helpful to teach those things in a way that directly applies to the music students are learning. They are more open to learning the concepts if they can see that knowing the theory can help them make decisions with regard to how they want to play the music. With solfege, understanding what the value of solfege is can make the process of learning it more palatable. I’m not a big fan of the “Just learn it, it’s like taking your medicine!” approach to teaching these concepts.

PRACTICIA: How did you come about writing your book "Inspired Practice" and what is it about?
EAS: My book was a bit of an experiment. For several years readers of my blog had told me that I should write a book but I found the idea very intimidating. To me, my blog is like my personal journal. It doesn’t feel as set in stone as a book. My fear was that I’d publish my thoughts and then the next week I’d change my mind about everything I had written. My compromise was to put together what I call a coffee-table book for the practice room and music studio with nuggets of information that I find myself telling people and myself all the time. Because I’m a very visual person, I wanted to also include good images that would illustrate those same concepts. I also decided to throw in some quotes that I find particularly inspiring, some by other musicians that write about practicing, others by non-musicians. My hope was that people could turn to a different page in the book every day to give them a burst of inspiration for their practice sessions.

I am just starting work on another book that I’m very excited about. I’m avoiding the traditional format again, choosing instead a workbook format for both students and teachers to help encourage creative score investigation that will be flexible enough to be used by students of every age and level. I’m very excited about it!

PRACTICIA: What are your top three bits of advice to students about practicing?
EAS:
- It’s about mini goals accomplished, not about time.
- It’s about process, not the end product and perfection.
- If you approach practicing using your whole body in harmony with your whole mind, with creativity, curiosity, and problem solving skills, your practicing will bring you to a place of security and originality that will allow you to deliver performances you’ll be proud of and that audiences will receive as a very unique gift.

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One musician's painful dilemma

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I am writing this post because I want to be honest and because the subject I'm about to bring up is one that is often shoved under the carpet. Thankfully, I think more and more musicians are starting to open up about this topic which is leading to more information being made accessible. But even with this new sense of openness, I have to admit that I am still hesitant to write about what I've been dealing with the past few months.

All right, enough procrastinating.

Who knows when it all started. What I do know is that I have had two years of playing and performing piano with virtually no break at all.   I have also been accompanying too many people. I now know that I have, without a doubt, a limit. This is where it starts to get a little embarrassing. I should've known. I did know that I had a limit. But in all honesty I didn't know what to do.   I love playing, I love experiencing new music, I love working especially with young musicians, and I absolutely adore performing - it's all downright addictive to me. I also suffer from what I think a lot of other accompanists suffer from - the overachieving accompanist syndrome.  I live in a small town with two colleges music departments in my backyard.   It's like living in the musical equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet.   Yet there aren't many pianists in the area that can or will take on the work.   We collaborators also typically love to swoop in and save the day - it's in our genes.   And I don't want to leave out the economic side of all of this. I am a freelance pianist and an adjunct professor; my husband is in the beginning of starting up a private voice studio after his struggles in academia.   We have no full-time job between the two of us so each musician I say yes to accompany becomes part of the patchwork that is our income.  It is not easy to say no to work and it doesn't help when I happen to love what I do.

Back to my story...

This past December, as most people were headed to vacations and celebrations with family I was crazily putting together a solo piano recital since I had applied for a full time teaching position at the university where I've been working the past three years. I (wrongfully) assumed  that I would make it into the final round of interviews (that's good fodder for another post) and would need to give a recital so I had one month in which to throw something together.  At the same time I was preparing for that, I was also having to learn music for the upcoming onslaught of student recitals, which totaled around 25.  (I am now letting out a groan in complete awareness of how I dug my own grave.) Since it was also my daughter's vacation I was doing my typical thing with her which more often than not consisted of wrestling and tickling each other.  It was during one of those times that I felt something happen in my upper back and shoulder. I didn't think much of it at the time and I don't know that it would have become an issue had I not also been practicing so much, but it quickly became a problem and I started getting this horrible pit in the bottom of my stomach as I recognized that I would soon have a dilemma on my hands, pun completely intended.

Perhaps I should've stopped then.   But it's so hard. I had agreed to play for over 20 recitals and countless other juries and smaller performances.  It's not so easy to just call everyone up and say, "Sorry folks, can't play!"  (I actually did call up a colleague to ask for help but she couldn't come up with any alternatives either.)  This was not a simple matter - that's one of the things I want to get across in this blog post.   I think it can be easy for people looking into a situation like this to simply shake their heads and dismiss a musician such as myself saying something like, "She did it to herself.  She should have known to stop."   One side of me agrees with this but when it's your life, what you love, your sole means of providing income for your family and when there aren't many, if any, that can do what you do?  And then there's the fear that if you tell people what's going on you'll never be asked to play again.  I'm telling you right now it is downright terrifying.

I chose to plow on as carefully as I could. I immediately found a chiropractor in town that I trusted, I told her my situation and she understood.   We set up a plan to meet on a regular basis so that we could hopefully slow down and avoid any further damage. I also stopped practicing once I was done giving my solo recital.   For the entire semester any playing I did was for rehearsals and performing.  I did not see a doctor and I did not go to physical therapy -  I relied instead on my chiropractor, advil, and arnica while religiously doing exercises that I learned from the chiropractor, the Internet, and from physical therapists I have had in the past.

Why did I not go to the doctor or to see a physical therapist?   I have dealt with similar issues twice before,  once when I was still in school and another time as an adult. The first time I had to stop playing I returned home to consult with a world-renowned hand doctor and surgeon in San Francisco.   He referred me to physical therapy but after months of doing that and being miserable I still didn't feel any better. I returned to college, was approved to take non-musical classes while recovering and started seeing a chiropractor who also happened to be the organist at our church. In a month of seeing him my problems started to go away. By the next semester I was playing again pain-free.  Later when I developed issues I again saw a chiropractor who was able to help me within weeks.  That is why I didn't go to the doctors or to physical therapy this time.  I hadn't had success the first time so I didn't want to potentially waste the time or the money.  Keep in mind neither my husband or I have full-time jobs.  Difficult choices have to be made.

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So here I am not feeling better yet, not playing very much, not sure what's going to happen next year, and afraid to even type.  (This is the maiden voyage of me using Dragon Dictation to write a blog post!)   Obviously this is not a great situation.   But to make lemonade out of lemons, I'm learning a lot about my body, I'm working on understanding how I can use my body better at the piano, and I am having to start thinking outside the box again, which in my mind is always a healthy activity.   I don't know exactly what's going to happen in the next year although I have already reduced my playing commitments significantly.   I'm trusting that in the end I will have a delicious, refreshing pitcher of lemonade by my side as I once again take to the piano to play my little heart out.

With all this said, I would ask that folks reading this be understanding and to not make comments that beat me up for how I've dealt with this most recent situation.  Trust me - I've had plenty of that already from myself!  Thank you.

For any musicians reading this who are experiencing pain while playing, know that you are not alone.  There are a lot of resources and wonderful helpful people out there right now - find them, ask me, or look at the comments below!  I am happy to help if I can and I'm hoping that people in the know will make some suggestions right here.

Here's to healthy playing!

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The myth of the perfect performance

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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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Lessons about music and accompanying from a cricket

I've always loved children's literature which makes having a child a wonderfully convenient excuse to revisit it all.  Last month I was introduced to a classic tale which I had somehow missed growing up - George Selden's The Cricket in Times Square.  It is a sweet story about a cricket from Connecticut who suddenly finds himself in the hustle and bustle of New York City.   While reading about Chester the cricket's adventures in the big city I was surprised to stumble upon a page that reminded me of the value and power of music.  After accidentally burning down the newstand owned by the Bellini family and where he resides, the distraught cricket does what any musician would do - he cries through his music-making...

So Chester started to chirp again.  He was in such disgrace anyway, what difference could it make?  The piece he was playing was called "Come Back to Sorrento," and by the greatest good luck, it happened to be Mama Bellini's favorite song.  Back in Naples, Italy, when Papa was courting her before they came to America, he used to come beneath her window on a moonlit night and sing this ballad to the plunking of an old guitar.  As the cricket chirped, the whole scene came back to Mama: the still, warm night, the moon shining down on the velvety Bay of Naples, and Papa singing to her.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of the bygone times, and very softly she began to murmur the words to the song.

Music and memory - such a powerful a combination.  And one that can magically turn the lights on a moment of tragedy with just a few heartfelt notes.

Even better, the story continues with this paragraph that gave me chills.  It's a wonderful lesson in the art of collaborating...

Chester Cricket had never played with so much skill before.  When he heard Mama singing, he slowed his tempo so she could keep up without straining.  When she was loud, he was too--and then softer when she got choked up with emotion and her voice dwindled.  But always his chirping carries her along, keeping her on the right beat and the right tune.  He was the perfect accompanist.

What I love about this passage is that it shows a lot of understanding about what it is I do at the piano - that my job is more than that of a musician, that it also involves sensitivity to my partner's state of mind and his or her needs at any given moment.  I wonder if George Selden was a collaborative type himself.  He definitely knows what he's talking about!

Most children's book authors do.

They're worth reading.

Even when you're not a kid.

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Too young to accompany?

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For years I have been wondering about something.  Why is that I rarely hear about or see young pianists accompanying?  As someone that started accompanying at a very early age, around 8 years old, I find it hard to comprehend what my musical life would have been like and what it would be like today had I not been given the opportunities I had.  Learning to work with others and realizing how much I wanted to support them musically shaped who I am now and paved the way for me to be able to sustain a musical career wherever I find myself.  I wish I saw other young pianists being given the same opportunities and guidance.

I can understand the concerns people might have.  There isn't enough time in lessons or in life to coordinate getting together with another individual, to learn the music, and to rehearse.  Accompaniments are often too difficult for young pianists.  It would be too risky to trust a less-experienced pianist to adequately support another young musician and it might lead to a disaster at performance time.  Young pianists might not have the sensitivity that is necessary for collaborating with others.  They may not be good at sight-reading or playing without stopping when they make a mistake.  Their sense of rhythm might be weak...

Wait one second...

Lacking sensitivity to another musician, not being able to sight-read or play without stopping, not having a good sense of rhythm...It seems to me that all of these issues could actually be helped by putting them in a position where they have a tangible reason to fix them.  Pianists are so used to spending hour after hour, day after day, alone in their practice room.  It can get lonely!  And sometimes it can be a challenge to see why it is we are trying to fix certain issues, especially when it takes hard work to turn things around.  But when a musician starts playing with others, when others are depending on him or her, it can provide instant motivation to tackle weaknesses head-on.  Even better, it's fun and social!  

I think one fear folks might have is that young pianists aren't good enough to handle the repertoire.  My response?  That's silly!  There's a lot out there besides Franck, Hindemith, and Bozza, some of the composers that tend to make a collaborator groan, panic, or roll their eyes when it ends up on his or her docket.  How about the earliest Suzuki books?  The first two volumes of the cello series (and probably also the violin and viola series) are very accessible.  Since many of them are arrangements of piano pieces that appear in beginning piano method books, the accompaniment ends up being easier than the original since the cello takes the melody.  Why not start with those?  And for pieces that might be a little more difficult, with a little guidance a young pianist could learn how to artfully leave notes out - I like to think of it as arranging.  This is a skill that seems to be virtually nonexistent except among seasoned collaborators.  In this world where perfection is the norm, many might see my penchant for "arranging" as scandalous but I see it as survival.  (For more on this topic, feel free to read my post, "Confessions of a Piano Collaborator."  The comments are also well worth a read!)

As for the issue of time.  Yes, it does take time and energy to coordinate schedules and to make it possible for young pianists to dip their toes into the world of accompanying but it is so worth it! And so fun!  And so beneficial!  I also think most kids would enjoy the challenge and the social aspect of it.  As a parent I can tell you that seeing my child excited about something new is worth any extra amount of effort it might take to make it all happen.  

And now for the last part of my soapbox exposition...

I believe the world needs more good accompanists and collaborators, not necessarily to accompany other professionals, but to be out in the community, out in the real world, playing alongside amateurs and music students.  They are needed everywhere - in the city and in the country, in schools and in churches, in lessons, at competitions...you name it.  Notice that I said the need is for good accompanists.  Experience and guidance to get a pianist to such a level should start when musicians are young and can more easily acquire the skills that are so valuable in the accompanying world.  Why wait?  It rarely gets easier.  And then if they continue on in their piano studies but decide that solo performing is not for them, or if they want to have a varied career as pianist, they already have some training under their belt.  Or should they choose to be a doctor, a stay-at-home parent, or a teacher, their accompanying skills could supplement their lives with social musical activities - playing with the church choir, playing for dance classes, accompanying local studios in town, playing with other amateurs.  What a wonderful way to enrich life for everyone involved!

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You never know.  Kids that get exposed to the art of accompanying early on might fall in love with it as I did and find constant inspiration and motivation in doing it day after day, year after year.  I don't know if it's the same way in the big cities, but I can tell you that in smaller communities skilled accompanists and collaborators are always needed!  It's definitely not a lonely job and I promise you I am never, ever bored.  

So let's get out a hook and catch us some young accompanists, shall we?  You never know what we'll find.

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Words of encouragement and a reality check for young musicians

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A few days ago I posted the following on my Facebook page.  It seems to have hit quite a chord so I thought I should share it here as well in hopes that it can reach more musicians of any age and at any stage.  Feel free to comment below if you have any words of encouragement yourself and please do pass the post along to anyone you think might benefit from hearing it!  

Dear music students -
A little reality check to hopefully encourage you.

I have been playing piano for over 30 years,
I have put in a gazillion hours of practicing,
I have performed a lot,
I think I'm pretty good at what I do,
and I've performed the piano part of Desenclos' "Prelude, Cadence & Finale" for saxophone and piano at least 8 times now.

YET...and here's the important part...

Today, as I was preparing for yet another rehearsal for yet another performance I still felt like I had to give myself a pep talk in order to face another practice session. I still have a LONG way to go to feel like I'm even close to doing it justice.

YET...and here's another really important part...

THAT'S OK!!!!

So next time you are kicking yourself because you haven't gotten your piece note-perfect, stop and remember you have a lifetime ahead of you to keep working on it. It's never over. Not even when the fat lady sings. 

Keep practicing, keep looking for what else you can do to improve, keep looking for the music behind the notes...and take pride in what you do!

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Bottling up a small but significant musical moment

It was a scene that only lasted 20 minutes but it was enough to keep me going with a smile on my face the rest of the day.

It started with my computer at work not letting me log into the network which led to me calling the computer helpline. Push 1 for a menu of options, push 4 for all other problems, talk to a help desk worker who then says that someone will stop by "sometime" during the day to try and fix my problem. Ugh.

Not my favorite way to start my day.

Fast forward an hour.

I was waiting for a rehearsal to start when the tech person knocked on my door. At the same time the student for whom I was waiting showed up to rehearse with me. I decided the computer person was going to have to deal with being serenaded while coming to the aid of my sick computer. The student was a young singer who had come to run through her songs in preparation for an upcoming performance. Singing an interesting set, Samuel Barber's "Church Bell at Night" and "Promiscuity," two very short, difficult little numbers, I was curious to see how the tech worker was going to respond. I have to admit she surprised me after the first song by stopping what she was doing and saying, "You have an incredible voice!" The student looked a bit surprised as well but we proceeded with our rehearsal. It didn't take long for my computer to be back up and running yet I noticed that the tech person wasn't budging from the studio. Instead she was doing some of her own work in the corner of the room, listening all the while and chiming in now and then with encouraging remarks about how much she was enjoying listening. When she finally did leave she did so with a word of thanks and more praise for this young woman's singing.

Thanks to a good case of nerves pre-performance, I wasn't sure if the singer had registered what had just happened with that stranger in the room. When we finished rehearsing she remarked, "Well, I guess it will be ok next Tuesday." I couldn't let her leave with just that one thought so in my typical fashion I embraced the moment as a teacheable one. I told her that even though she may not have felt like her performance was what she wanted she had captured the attention of a stranger in the course of one song that lasted only about 30 seconds. And in the next few minutes she had managed to keep her there because of what she had to offer through the music. She had created, for this stranger, an oasis of musical and expressive beauty. She had stopped time for someone that had a job to do. She had tapped into the power of music and had unknowingly shared a bit of herself through this incredible medium.

When we're in school, studying to be the best we can be at our instrument, it can be so easy to lose sight of the magic of music and of the power we wield as musicians. We expect to hear criticism and advice, we wait for the grades to come in to tell us whether or not we are good musicians. In some ways there's nothing wrong with that - it pushes us to keep working, it teaches us that we are never done learning and that we are always beginners no matter where we are in our journey. But at the same time I think it's important to be aware of those rare musical moments that remind us of what we can do with our music no matter what level we are at. It's important to acknowledge that performing means more than impressing others or receiving the pat on the back we all long for - it means touching others through the sharing of ourselves through music.

There's a time and a place for work and there's a time and a place for reaping the harvest of that work. When we are fortunate to find ourselves in a magical musical moment, when life is about more than just ourselves, it's important to reach for the nearest empty bottle and to bottle it all up to remind ourselves of the value of what we do in the practice room and on the stage.

Here's hoping the young singer I was working with has started her own collection. Sing on!

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