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Guest post by Jennifer Griffin Gaul

My mom used to tell a story about me. She said that she would lie in the bathtub at night and listen to me practice piano.

I find this story strange because I honestly have very, very few recollections of practicing. I know I played because I remember the irritation I would feel at competing with the blare of the TV, or my angry older brother yelling at me to stop making a racket. But then there was the idea of “practice”, which was a bit of a fuzzy concept for me. Was it playing things over and over again until I could play it perfectly? Or was it something else altogether? I didn’t really know and there was no one at home who understood it either.

I didn’t start piano until I was 9 years old. We didn’t own a piano and my parents only
experience with music lessons was my brother’s aborted attempts at trumpet, which
left them unenthusiastic about investing in lessons for me. The subject of piano only
came up because they received a call from my best friend’s mother. Mrs. Kim had
called to say that I seemed to spend a lot of time around her piano and she thought
they should have me start lessons. My father balked at the idea of purchasing a piano
for an 8-year-old so I was given a plastic recorder and signed up for recorder lessons. I played recorder for a year and when it became clear that I loved music, they figured
out a way to get a small spinet piano.

I adored my first piano teacher, Mr. Erikson. He was a tall, gangly, bearded man with a
raspy voice. He started me off and we worked together until I was nearly 16 years old.
Every week when my lesson rolled around I’d feel a flurry of emotions. Anticipation was usually the biggest one. Sometimes a bit of shame for not doing the music worksheets he would assign. And also for not “practicing”. I didn’t like to let him down and I knew that practicing was important. I just wasn’t sure how to do it. But I also didn’t want to ask him what it meant because it seemed like I should understand it already.

Something magical always happened in those lessons with Mr. Erikson. Our work
together would absorb me completely. The lesson would flash by as I immersed myself in each new intricacy of music-making and sound. I progressed steadily. I must of practiced, right? How do you progress without it? And yet why didn’t I understand
what it was?

My musical life stumbled after a tearful parting from Mr. Erikson when he moved to
California. Limited for competent piano teachers in my small town in Rhode Island I
had begun lessons with a music professor at the local university. That relationship was life-changing. My weekly lessons became agony. There was no flow or understanding during lessons. Just a series of orders of what I was supposed to do. I was unable to focus because I was so frightened of this teacher. My ability to immerse myself in the music and grow and learn evaporated. Each week became worse as I was berated over and over again with my musical (and perhaps personal) deficiencies.

By this point, I had been accepted into the university at age 16 to pursue a Bachelor of
Music. He was the teacher I needed to work with in order to get my degree. He was
annoyed with me for this early acceptance, which he had been against. He said I
wasn’t mature enough. He was also annoyed with me for being accepted into the
Young Artist Piano Program at Tanglewood over the summer before I started at
university. He had told me I would be wasting the time of the audition committee if I
applied and would never be accepted. I auditioned anyway and spent a month
studying with Robert Taub, surrounded by amazing young musicians who were far
better than I was. They practiced! I was starting to get the concept.

And I DO remember practicing for him. I practiced a lot! But I just couldn’t seem to
progress. I couldn’t connect with the music. And each time I sat down to practice,
determined to show him what I could accomplish, I would just become more
discouraged. I ran scales. I did technique exercises. I worked on the assigned music.
Joylessly and with trepidation, driven by a sense of his seemingly endless disapproval.
It all came to a head during a lesson when I was mucking up the Mozart Sonata he had
assigned. By this point every time I played for him my hands would shake, my eyes
would have trouble focusing and my brain would go blank. In a fit of irritation he told
me that I had no capacity for hard work and I was just someone who liked music but
would never be a musician. He then told me to play it again for him. I couldn’t because
I was crying so hard I couldn’t see the music. He sighed and said “This proves what
I’ve said. Go home.”

I was devastated. My teacher Mr. Erikson came back for a visit that fall. I played for him and he just stared when I finished. “What happened?” he said weakly. Not only could I not play fluidly or with any musicality, I had developed so much tension that I was losing the feeling in my arms and hands. All that practice had done significant damage.

Before he returned to California, Mr. Erikson helped me to make some changes. I
altered my program from a Bachelor of Music to a Bachelor of Arts in music because
that allowed me to drop piano lessons.He had a long consultation with a friend who
had a D.M.A. from Eastman School of Music and set me up with this new teacher. I
began commuting to Boston every Saturday for lessons. I had to relearn how to play
again. Gradually I began to heal. Gradually I started to play again (or was it practice?). I adored my lessons with my new teacher. The sense of ultra focus and immersion
during lessons returned and I made enough progress to be accepted into University of Texas at Austin’s music program where I earned a Master of Music in piano.

So how does this impact my own teaching and the advice I give to parents and
students about the importance of practice?

In my opinion, at every level students need help understanding what they’re trying to
achieve when they practice. That understanding needs to be age appropriate. And it all springs from the quality of the teacher/student engagement during lessons. Working together in a way that feels collaborative, exploratory and uncovers each student’s connection to the music sets students up for better success on their own. Lessons that include regular, honest, and non-judgmental conversations between a teacher and a student about what (if anything) the student achieved in the week. We all know lesson time is precious because there just isn’t enough of it. But it is time well spent for students. Learning to self-reflect. Learning how to engage with sound. Learning to recognize how technique is tied to the sound produced. Learning to immerse themselves in a process that, when it goes well, can make an incredible difference.

Many years ago, I heard a friend joke that “you don’t need to practice if you just play
every day.” And I realized I finally had my answer to how I had made my progress.

Jennifer Griffin GaulJennifer Griffin Gaul is a US-based pianist and educator. She holds a Master of Music in piano pedagogy and performance from the University of Texas at Austin.

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Who or what inspired you to pursue a career in music and who or what have been the most important influences on your musical life and career?

When I was 7 years old, my parents told me that I was enrolled in a guitar group at my school.  Back then I didn’t even know what a guitar was, or that you could have a career as a guitarist !  At around 10 years of age, I took part in some guitar events in China where I saw some professional foreign guitarists play concerts and I was told I had the ability to do the same as them.

This is what first put the idea of pursuing a career in music into my head, without really knowing what it entailed.  My youthful enthusiasm took me to the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing, against the wishes of my family, where I became the very first guitar student in the whole country.  During my ten years there I constantly felt that my instrument was under appreciated and underestimated.  This enhanced my own determination to have a musical career and show everyone what the guitar can do.  I was also so inspired by the great musical environment at the conservatory, and this too strengthened my resolve to become a musician.

What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?

There have been many challenges on my musical journey.  When I started playing in China, no one in China had taken this path before, so there were no local role models.  The country had no classical guitar tradition.  Looking back, I had to battle against the odds to make my own path. Over the years this took me to the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing, and later abroad to study at the Royal Academy of Music in London.  It’s not easy for an Eastern person to come to the West and make a career with no familiarity with the environment here.  Especially so when that career is playing a niche Western instrument. Therefore, I am extremely grateful for all the support I have received to come this far.

Which performances/recordings are you most proud of

My recordings are like my children. I like them all, but I am particularly proud of two,  Bach Concertos and Sketches of China. These both contain new repertoire for guitar, so I put a great deal of effort and time to make these happen.  Not only the recording, but sourcing the repertoire, and making the guitar arrangements.

There are also many concerts that I am proud of, but my most recent is actually a highlight. It was called ‘Once Upon a Time in Brazil’ and I played for two consecutive nights at the NCPA in Beijing.  The concert presents a wide selection of Brazilian music from classical to popular style. The program highlighted the central role that guitar has in all this music .  I pushed my own boundaries as a classically trained player.  I felt a revelation performing new musical styles in collaboration with different combinations of chamber musicians.  For example, we had one set with guitar, percussion, and double bass, rather like a jazz trio which worked really well.  The enthusiastic response from the audience on both nights gave me great encouragement and was a welcome reward for the project.

Which particular works/composers do you think you perform best?

I feel particularly at home with lyrical, romantic works.  I consider lyricism as one of my hallmarks.  I am always singing in my head as I play.  Several string players have told me that I phrase as if I have a bow in my hand. That’s a complement I really like and can associate with.

What do you do off stage that provides inspiration on stage?

Travel!  I like travelling to see how people live in different places around the world, and to learn about their culture.  That’s a great source of inspiration when interpreting music from these cultures.  It’s not only an inspiration on stage, but it opens my mind and helps me understand myself and my own cultural background in a broader and deeper way and understand other people more.

How do you make your repertoire choices from season to season?

It’s based on a combination of factors, my own personal tastes and desires, the concert schedule and promoter’s requests, and my recording plans. In general, I try to balance a program to have something for everyone. I also try to feature something familiar and something new, whilst at the same time broadening my own repertoire.

Do you have a favourite concert venue to perform in and why?

I think my overall favourite is Wigmore Hall in London. It has a perfect acoustic for guitar.

What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?

I think a few factors need to be addressed.  I don’t know if classical music is losing audiences as such, but nowadays people have more choices about how to use their time, so we must compete for their attention.  We need to make the music relevant to them. I also feel there are still elements of elitism in classical music, that make many feel excluded from the circle.  Musical education plays a huge role in this.  For example, in China a vast number of children are learning instruments, and their parents will take them to hear concerts.

What is your most memorable concert experience?

I have many!  Two come to mind.  My first is meeting the composer Rodrigo who came to my Spanish debut concert in Madrid when I was 14!  More recently it was amazing to play on Bastille Day sitting under the Eiffel Tower with the French National Orchestra, performing to a huge live audience on the Champ de Mars, and an even bigger audience via the broadcast on French national television.

As a musician, what is your definition of success?

I think I would consider myself as a success if I could be recognised and remembered for my professional legacy.

What advice would you give to young/aspiring musicians?

There are easier ways to make a living.  It’s often a tough, competitive, and unforgiving profession, even for those who truly have talent.  It’s very easy to be distracted or disillusioned, so I think it’s useful to keep reminding yourself why you are following this path, and never lose the love and enjoyment of the music.

What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about which you think we should be?

Finding the right business model that allows promoters to balance artistic innovation versus commercial risk.  In economically hard times, there is great pressure on promoters to take commercially safe options in choices of artists, repertoire, and programs.  However, in the long run this is a danger to the health of innovation in the arts. Exciting things happen at the edge of the comfort zone. I hope the industry will regain sufficient financial independence to strike a good balance.

What’s next?

Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, the first single from my upcoming digital album X-Culture (released 19th May 2023), was released on Friday 7th April from  It was rather poignant to learn today that the composer of the piece, Ryuichi Sakamoto died earlier this month. I knew he was unwell at the time I was recording his piece; I was actually thinking of his feelings at that time. Reading about his suffering gave me a sense of nostalgia as I recorded the piece.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Good health, great loving relationship, and being able to do what I enjoy doing.

What is your most treasured possession?

My guitars.

Xuefei Yang performs in the Image China concert at London’s Cadogan Hall on Thursday 13th April. The programme features celebrated and ground-breaking works by acclaimed Chinese composers Chen Qigang, Tan Dun, Wang Xilin, Zhou Tian, and Fu Renchang alongside Western composers Edward Elgar and John Brunning.

More info/tickets

Xuefei Yang is acclaimed as one of the world’s finest classical guitarists. Hailed as a musical pioneer – her fascinating journey began after the Cultural Revolution, a period where Western musical instruments & music were banned. Xuefei was the first-ever guitarist in China to enter a music school, & became the first internationally recognised Chinese guitarist on the world stage. Her first public appearance was at the age of ten and received such acclaim that the Spanish Ambassador in China presented her with a concert guitar. Her debut in Madrid at the age of 14 was attended by the composer Joaquín Rodrigo and, when John Williams heard her play, he gave two of his own instruments to Beijing’s Central Conservatoire especially for her and other advanced students.

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The important thing is not to stop questioning… Never lose holy curiosity – Albert Einstein

One of the tenets of my own musical study, my writing and my life in general is to “stay curious”. I’ve always been curious and from a young age, I wanted to know stuff – from dinosaurs to Egyptology, Old English to the piano music of Schubert, or setting up my own website/blog and learning basic computer coding. Today, the internet is a remarkable resource for the curious-minded and my usual habit, if I want to find out something, is to look it up on Google or YouTube.

Curiosity is essential for the musician. Not only does it drive exploration, keeps practice interesting, improves problem-solving skills and creativity, and helps to maintain self-motivation, it also fosters creativity, thus encouraging one to explore further – new repertoire, techniques and more to improve one’s skills and expand one’s musical horizons.

Mindless, uncurious practising is boring. It’s often simply “going through the motions”, without thinking creatively about what you are doing at the piano. Look closely at the score, ask it questions – why has the composer used that harmony/ combination of notes/specific articulation? – and seek your own answers (and remember that there isn’t necessarily a single or straightforward answer, nor that there is a “right answer” or “right way” of doing things – adopting this mindset is liberating in itself, and breeds even more curiosity and creativity).

The curious pianist approaches each practice session with an open mind – “what can I do today that’s different/better?“.  Curiosity helps to keep practice engaging and interesting (because, let’s be honest, practicing can be tedious, especially if you’ve been working on the same piece or pieces for long periods of time, for example, when preparing for an exam or diploma performance). By approaching practice with a sense of curiosity, you can make the process more enjoyable and satisfying – and, importantly, more motivating.

Photo by Anastasia Kolchina on Pexels.com

Curiosity improves problem-solving skills too. When you encounter a difficult passage in a piece or a technical problem in your playing, curiosity can help you to find creative solutions. It encourages you to think outside the box and come up with new ways to approach a problem.

A good teacher will encourage curiosity in their students and give them the tools to be curious in their own practicing and musical study (and curiosity is related to independent learning and self-teaching which will be covered in a separate post).  Curious students tend to be more eager to learn – and to learn more – motivated and self-starting.

Away from the practice room, be curious about your encounters with other music. Go to concerts, experience music with which you may or may not be familiar. Listen with an open mind and find inspiration from others’ music-making.

Curiosity allows us all, at whatever level we play, whether amateur or professional, to push ourselves to improve and expand our skills, which is essential to becoming a better musician.

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Sergei Rachmaninov (1873-1943) is surely one of the greatest – if not the greatest – composers for the piano in the history of the instrument.

It probably helped that Rachmaninov was an extraordinarily talented pianist himself and the instrument dominated his creative thinking from the outset. He began playing the piano at a young age and by his early teens he was already performing in public. He went on to study at the Moscow Conservatory, where he received a rigorous musical education that included extensive training in piano performance. This background gave him a deep understanding of the instrument, both technically and artistically, which is clearly reflected in his piano music.

As a master of the piano, who fully understood its capabilities, one of the hallmarks of Rachmaninov’s piano music is its virtuosity. His music is technically demanding and requires exceptional skill and dexterity to perform. But he was also careful to ensure that his virtuosity always served the music, rather than being an end in itself, and his works for piano – from the miniatures and salon pieces to the great piano concertos – are not just impressive displays of technical prowess, but also deeply expressive and emotionally evocative, full of brooding passion that remained a powerful force in his music throughout his compositional life. His music is often intimate and personal. He wrote many of his pieces as a way of processing his own emotions and life experiences. His pieces are full of passion, nostalgia, and a sense of yearning; they plumb the depths and scale the heights of emotion, and they speak of and to the human experience in a way that is both universal and also highly intimate.

Another important aspect of Rachmaninov’s music is his use of harmony. Reacting against the trend towards modernism and the avant-garde, which dominated classical music at the turn of the 20th century, Rachmaninov remained true to the late Romantic style of which he was a master. His music is replete with lush harmonies and emotional expressiveness, and he used a wide range of complex chords and sweeping arpeggios to create a sense of richness, vivid colours, depth and emotional power.

He also had a wonderful gift for melody, and his piano pieces are full of beautiful, memorable themes which are often developed over the course of the piece, becoming more complex and intricate as the music unfolds to create a sense of narrative and emotional progression.

For the advanced amateur, and even the professional, his music can be daunting. Many pianists believe they cannot play Rachmaninov’s music because of the physical demands it places on the player – a misconception to which I subscribed for a long time, until I decided to include two of the Op. 33 Etudes-Tableaux in one of my performance diploma programmes.

I believed my hands were too small for Rachmaninov, that I didn’t have a big enough hand stretch (a ninth, at a stretch; Rachmaninov could famously stretch an octave plus 4) or the necessary power and stamina to manage the big, hand-filling chords or the tempi. So what did I do? I selected a piece (op. 33, No. 7) which included both of these challenges – and I rose to them, with the help of my then teacher who showed me that one needs neither hands like shovels nor a specially-adapted piano keyboard to play this magnificent music.

Yes, technique is crucial in mastering Rachmaninov’s music, but perhaps the harder aspect is interpretation – and for that one can hear the master himself playing his own music. Recordings of Rachmaninov playing Rachmaninov offer some remarkable insights into his approach to tempo, phrasing, dynamics, interpretation, a gift for counterpoint, and so much more. There is much expressive freedom in his performances coupled with a profound emotionality (as opposed to sentimentality), rendered with great clarity and drama. He offers us the best interpretation possible of his own music. It is therefore surprising to learn that Rachmaninov declared, “I can’t play my own compositions.”

His most famous works for piano are surely the second and third piano concertos, the Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini, and the Preludes in C-sharp minor and G minor. But his oeuvre for piano is extensive and varied – the opp. 23 and 32 Preludes, two sets of Études-Tableaux (opp. 33 and 39), transcriptions, salon pieces like the Morceaux de fantaisie and Moments musicaux, the Symphonic Dances, works for four and six hands piano, variations (on themes by Chopin and Corelli), two piano sonatas, and many other miniatures and shorter works.

Which pianists should we turn to for inspiration in this remarkable repertoire? Of today’s pianists, Evgeny Kissin is, for me, one of the finest Rachmaninov players – an opinion which was fully reconfirmed when I heard Kissin in concert at the Barbican in March; the second half was all Rachmaninov (to mark the composer’s 150th anniversary). Kissin’s technical virtuosity and musical understanding allow him to reveal the full range of Rachmaninov’s music, from hauntingly beautiful, intimate melodies to thunderous climaxes.

This Etude-Tableaux, from the Op. 39 set, is one of my favourites:

When preparing for my diploma, John Lill’s recording of the Etudes-Tableaux was one to which I returned many times, but I also very much like Nikolai Lugansky in this repertoire. His performances of Rachmaninov’s music in general are marked by a rare combination of technical mastery, emotional breadth, and interpretive insight which showcase the full range of the composer’s vision. Steven Osborne is another pianist whose recording of the Etudes-Tableaux I much admire for its clarity, multi-hued dynamic palette and beautiful quality of sound, coupled with a thrilling “in the moment” spontaneity.

Pianists from an earlier era must surely include Vladimir Horowitz, who was greatly admired by the composer himself, and who helped bring the third piano concerto to prominence in the USA. His recordings of the Prelude in C-sharp minor and the Vocalise in particular are also widely admired for their emotional intensity and technical brilliance.

And no collection of favourite Rachmaninov recordings should be without Sviatoslav Richter. Renowned for his technical command and expressive power, and his ability to create a sense of “controlled risk”, Richter’s performances of Rachmaninov’s music are considered some of the finest ever recorded.

Other pianists to seek out in this repertoire include Emil Gilels, Cyril Smith, Vladimir Ashkenazy, Yefim Bronfman, Byron Janis, Martha Argerich, Arcadi Volodos, Daniil Trifonov, Yuja Wang, Peter Donohoe, Khatia Buniatishvili, Valentina Lisitsa….. Each of these pianists brings their own distinct interpretive style to Rachmaninov’s music, resulting in memorable performances that are technically fluent and emotionally rich.