performance practice decoded

Performance practice is a tricky issue: instead of WWJD, it’s more a questions of “what would Bach do” (or Brahms or Couperin). There are two general schools of thought about performance practice.

First, the militaristic approach to performance practice. It says: play-it-exactly-as-prescribed-or-you-will-be-shot (or at least, have points docked from your score). And no whining either. 

Second, the slightly more genial, creative approach. It says (in the words of my friend Crawford Wiley): ”Let’s assume that Bach (or whoever) played like we do – and if he didn’t, who cares?” 

That’s all you really need to know about performance practice. Unless, of course, you subscribe to the first approach, in which case, I’d suggest heading to the library right now. And plan on staying for a very long time.

beginning to create

I am not a piano teacher. I have no illusions.

However, I’ve taught piano to a number of people and currently teach piano to Naomi, a middle-schooler who lives in my neighborhood. I have tried (earnestly) to persuade her dad to find Naomi a better, more experienced teacher, but he insists that Naomi and I have great chemistry (this is true).

Perhaps because I’m not really “qualified” to teach and hence don’t know the rules, or perhaps because I think children are quite the brightest people on the street, Naomi is learning the whys of music:

• why technique is important (you don’t want carpel tunnel, honey)
• why to linger on a V7 chord (to make the listener ache for it to resolve, subconsciously of course)
• why fingering–this exact fingering–is the best (so your fingers aren’t like so many crickets jumping around the keyboard)
• why, even, to learn Hanon exercises (which takes more than a half-sentence to explain)

No pabulum here.

Naomi’s also learning to improvise: just a simple arpeggiation of the block chords found in her early-intermediate lesson book. That small departure from the written page signals the beginning of creation and, in Naomi’s case, is a springboard for something new to her: composition.

At her last lesson, I wrote a limerick for her on some clean staff paper, and asked for a tune. I admit this was partially motivated by my wish that my piano teachers would have given me assignments like that. But it’s more primarily motivated my desire that Naomi create. I want her to love creation. To love making something herself. To get away from using her eyes and learn to trust her ears. To become a musician.

I am not a piano teacher at heart. I have no illusions.

But in spite of that, or maybe because of that, Naomi is becoming a musician, not just a player of pianos. 

 

Hello world!

music=pleasure

writing=pleasure

writing about music=pleasure

 

hence this blog

enjoy