By |

Guest post by Dakota Gale, the latest article in his series aimed at amateur adult pianists

I clearly remember the first time I rode Tyler’s, a popular bike trail near me. I walked some rocky uphill ramps, awkwardly landed jumps, and generally hacked my way down it like a noob.

I still had a hell of a fine time.

These days, I’ve ridden Tyler’s dozens of times and know every major feature. I fly down that sucker.

But is Tyler’s more fun, exciting or fulfilling now versus my first time? 

In general, is there a way to develop appreciation and deeper comprehension rather than boredom for a repeated experience?

Travel to the same places. Hobbies we’ve done for years. Meals we’ve made for a decade.

Or piano pieces!

Navigating the creative gamut

Like a new bike trail, the first time I play a piano piece my brain scrabbles to survive, jamming the notes into my brain. I’m walking super rocky sections and scoping out switchbacks, one measure and phrase at a time.

Take Schubert’s Serenade, a song I’ve always loved that I started playing. In my initial efforts, I pushed through the technical challenges of the piece and could “play” it. Then I tabled it for a month, letting the music sink into my synapses. Cue round two, with more nuance and expression…and yet I was barely getting started.

Bridging that gap between what I CAN do and what I WANT to do is the hardest part. With any new piece, I listen to recordings and think, “yup, do that, fingers!” Then I sit down and create some monotone pabulum akin to playing bongo drums with wet laundry. *sigh*

The gap between my expectations and my abilities is frustrating sometimes. Like some truculent kid, I want to play it like a pro, now now now!

After I turn my pre-frontal cortex back on, I can (usually) reframe things. Because truly, I find this so motivating: I’m going to grow not just with new pieces, but enjoy a deep satisfaction revisiting piano works for the rest of my life. Something fresh to discover, to experience.

And dang it, I AM making progress. Even if I’m no master, there’s magic in the journey and daily satisfaction in the learning. I don’t need to be pro to have fun. (Maybe it’s more fun not worrying about earning a living with it?)

Plus, pushing myself on challenging songs pushes me to greater heights on those I already play. It’s the same thing that happens when I ride technical trails on my bike. I may not slip effortlessly through the toughest moves, but that difficulty makes other trails feel even more cruisier in comparison.

Unlike during piano pieces, sometimes I pause mid-climb on a bike to eat…

As piano, as life

I love how this mindset so easily translates to other endeavors or pastimes. We’re different people when we revisit a city or national park, reread a book, or play an old song. Depth, additional context, a slower pace…it all modifies the experience and likely results in a deeper appreciation.

With all this in mind, I’m continuing to actively push myself to share not-perfect work like my beginner drawings and music recordings. (Sharing my writing on my blog starting a decade ago was an early effort in that arena.) 

It’s tough because I want the work to be better, to make insane progress overnight. Sometimes I shake my head at how hard it is to take what’s in my brain and put it on paper or piano.

Whatever. There’s a reason every book on creativity decries perfectionism and Ira Glass from This American Life talks about “The Gap,” that space between what we envision and what appears in reality. I’ll probably always find blemishes and wish-it-were-different aspects of ANYthing I create.

The good news? It creates constant motivation to keep improving, growing, seeking.

That’s a beautiful thing.

As for Schubert’s Serenade? Maybe it’s not perfect, but I’m looking forward to a lifetime of it evolving beneath my fingers.

And if I get frustrated, I can always go rip down Tyler’s on my mountain bike.

When he isn’t playing piano, Dakota Gale enjoys exploring the great outdoors, learning languages and drawing. He also writes about reclaiming creativity as an adult and ditching tired personal paradigms in his newsletter, Traipsing About. He can often be spotted camping and exploring mountain bike trails around the Pacific Northwest.

By |

I haven’t touched the piano for months. I have a beautiful early 20th-century Bechstein model A grand piano which has been sitting, untouched, in my piano room/office. There is music open on the stand – Schubert’s Piano Sonata in A, D664 – suggesting intent, but I have not played it seriously in over six months.

Why? Lack of motivation, lack of time, yes. But also something which I think is particular to the amateur musician – the knowledge that, unlike the professional musician who must practice regularly to maintain their skill and artistry, one can come back to the instrument at any time and pick up where one left off.

But it can be hard and the first line of that wise saying of violinist Jascha Heifertz – “If I don’t practice one day, I know it…” holds true as much for the amateur as for the  professional musician. The more time passes, the harder it becomes to start over again.

But it’s not impossible.

Rekindling the habit of practicing and playing the piano after a pause, however long, can be both challenging and rewarding. The key to a successful return lies in setting realistic goals, cultivating patience, and reviving your passion for music. Here’s a guide to help you navigate this journey back to the piano:

Set Realistic Goals

One of the first steps in returning to piano practice is setting achievable goals. Begin by assessing your current skill level and recognising that you may not be able to play at the same proficiency as before. Setting short-term goals that focus on gradual improvement, such as playing music that is already well-learnt or attempting a short piece or study, help you reacquaint yourself with the instrument, build confidence and provide a clear sense of progress.

Establish a Routine

Consistency is crucial in developing any skill, and piano playing is no exception. Create a practice schedule that fits comfortably into your daily routine. Practice “little and often”: even 15 to 30 minutes a day can make a significant difference over time. Ensure your practice sessions are regular, but also be flexible and kind to yourself if the demands of daily life/work interrupt your schedule.

Revisit Familiar Pieces

Playing pieces you were once comfortable with can be immensely satisfying and a great confidence booster. It allows you to gauge how much you remember and where you need to focus your practice. These familiar pieces can act as a bridge, easing you back into more challenging repertoire while providing a sense of accomplishment.

Explore New Repertoire

While revisiting old favourites is comforting, exploring new music can really reignite your interest. Choose pieces that inspire you and reflect your musical tastes. Don’t feel you have to learn certain pieces because they are good for you; play the music that interests you. Learning new repertoire not only keeps practice sessions interesting but also broadens your musical horizons and challenges your skills in different ways.

Seek Guidance and Support

If you have taken a long break from the instrument, consider taking lessons, even if only temporarily. A teacher can provide personalised guidance, help you set realistic goals, and correct any bad habits that may have formed during your hiatus. Additionally, joining a music meetup group can offer support, motivation, and opportunities to share your progress with others.

Be Patient and Positive

Returning to your instrument after a break requires patience and a positive mindset. Progress may be slow at first, and you might feel frustrated by the gap between your past abilities and your current performance. Set realistic goals and celebrate small victories – and, above all, remind yourself of the joy that playing the piano brings. With time and persistence, your skills will improve, and the music will flow more naturally.

Enjoy the Process

Ultimately, the journey back to the piano should be enjoyable. Embrace the process of relearning and rediscovering your love for the instrument. Allow yourself to experiment, make mistakes, and have fun. Remember, the ultimate goal is the joy and fulfilment that comes from making music.

Happy practicing!

This site takes many hours each month to maintian and update. If you find value and pleasure in what I do, why not

BUY ME A COFFEE

By |

Guest post by Caroline Wright

There’s little doubt that a performance diploma should not be undertaken lightly. Preparing takes a long time and requires thought, dedication, consistency and patience. The pieces are hard and, for most of us, the performance is anxiety-provoking. Indeed, for amateur pianists, the challenge can seem insurmountable. That said, the process of learning a diploma programme can also be fascinating, absorbing, energising, and hugely rewarding.

After recently taking my FTCL exam (but before knowing the result!), I’ve been reflecting on the last 18-months of work – was it all worth it? The answer is a resounding YES! I’ve learnt an enormous amount and grown immensely as a musician. I’ve also been fortunate enough to interact with the thriving piano community across the UK, and meet people of all walks of life who love the piano and are pondering their next pianistic step. So I wanted to share my experience, and thank the many people out there who listened, advised and encouraged me along the way.

Planning the programme

I’d been playing pretty consistently for quite a few years as an adult, but had drifted since my LTCL (back in 2012) and fallen out of the habit of really practising rather than just playing. I needed something to kick myself into action, and the FTCL seemed like ideal goal, albeit a rather daunting one. Perhaps it would be impossible, whilst also working full-time outside music, but how would I know unless I tried?

The first task seemed to be to select a programme. We pianists are spoilt for choice – there are just so many great pieces to play! I read the different syllabuses, and went round and round in circles for months, listening and playing, deciding and undeciding. Overall, the programme had to be musically balanced and make some kind of narrative sense. The pieces also needed to be at least potentially playable. (My hands are quite small, so realistically some repertoire is literally out of reach, and always will be.) And, most importantly, to survive the countless hours of practice, I had to really love the pieces – otherwise what’s the point?

Early on, I decided that I ideally wanted to combine something from one of the “great” classical composers (for me, that means Bach or Beethoven), with something short(er) and light(er), plus something from a contemporary composer. In the end, after much agonising, I settled on:

· Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata, Op. 53 – good for the fingers, good for the soul.

· 3x Gershwin songs, from 7 Virtuoso Etudes, arranged by Earl Wild – beautiful mini-masterpieces.

· Graham Fitkin’s Relent – it’s not on any syllabus, but I’ve loved this whirlwind of a piece since I first heard it a decade ago, and dared to hope I might be able to play it.

It took me quite a while to arrive at the final selection, and there were ups and downs along the way. As I started to learn the pieces, I questioned my choices regularly, and almost gave up every piece because it seemed too hard! But I loved the whole programme and thought it would make a bold and exciting recital. The pieces are high-energy and life-affirming, which was just what I wanted!

Learning the programme

Deciding on a programme was one thing, but actually playing it was quite another. Learning to play 45 minutes of technically challenging piano music was clearly not going to happen overnight. I needed a plan.

Once I had finally decided maybe to give it a go, I gave myself a maximum of 2 years to work towards the FTCL. I peppered my time every few months with piano lessons (with my long-term teacher) and piano weekends (Jackdaws, Finchcocks, and Oxford Piano Weekends), plus a week-long music summer school (Dartington). These gave me a series of small goals to work towards, provided a source of regular expert input, and offered opportunities to play in front of people. As a result, I had a fairly clear timetable for learning the pieces, based on where I wanted to take them and when. I like to play from memory (and have blogged extensively about this before), so as well as physically playing the piano, the learning process also involved studying the scores and doing mental practice – which was really useful on holiday!

To my astonishment, everything worked out as planned. In the final few months, once everything was learnt and just needed (a lot of!) polishing, it was interesting to reflect on my progress*. I found the process of learning these three contrasting pieces quite different. I started with the Beethoven sonata, and initially made quick progress – the piece just made sense to me. I found it relatively easy to look at the score, understand the classical sonata structure, and memorise the notes. However, going from a mediocre to a good performance took ages. There’s a profound depth to this music that I hadn’t fully anticipated, and achieving satisfactory nuances of phrasing and dynamics whilst also maintaining rhythmic integrity was nearly impossible.

Once I had committed the Beethoven to memory, I moved onto learning the Gershwin songs (one at a time, of course). In contrast to the Beethoven, I found these almost impossibly difficult to read and memorise. While he was arranging these pieces for solo piano, Earl Wild added a staggering number of extra notes, many of which come from jazz harmonies and modal scales that were unfamiliar to me. Although the structure followed the original songs, it was sometimes hard to find the melodies buried deep inside the luxuriously dense texture. All three songs left me struggling and despondent for months, until things suddenly clicked, and I could just play them. After that, it was plain sailing.

When I had two Gershwin songs under my belt, I started on Graham Fitkin’s terrifying Relent. Initially, I wasn’t even sure how to approach learning and memorising such a complex modern piece, and had abandoned learning it years ago on the grounds that it was too difficult. But, motivated by my diploma goal, I worked away at it slowly, learning very small chunks at a time – often doing multiple micro-practice sessions throughout the day – then piecing them together gradually. Unlike the other pieces, my progress was pretty linear, and day-by-day I steadily got better at playing it. Graham himself was also kind enough to give me some advice about playing his piece, which was fantastic. When played at full performance speed and dynamics, the physical demands of this piece are considerable, and I had to be quite careful not to over-practice and injure myself.

After finally selecting and working on the last Gershwin song, eventually all the pieces were learnt, and I had played them all to various piano pedagogues along the way. Eventually, there was nothing left to do but admit that I probably could play these pieces and therefore really should give the exam a go!

* Being a scientist by training, I think quite conceptually, and couldn’t resist the urge to plot a simplified representation of these different, entirely subjective learning curves! Has anyone tried doing this before? I started by defining the top of a hypothetical “performance quality” scale as 10/10, an unattainable perfection that one can only imagine for any piece but never achieve – perhaps it’s a recording, or maybe just an idea. Then, somewhere below this, let’s optimistically say 9/10, is my realistically attainable performance. I think I came close to the latter, but probably never achieved it. Then, there’s the actual path of progress towards the best possible performance, which ideally tends upwards from zero as time goes by, moving at different rates and with different shapes for different people and different pieces. It’s hard not to plateau and stop improving, or worse, to go backwards, particularly when learning multiple pieces. However, I was doggedly single-minded about practising, and although my pieces progressed differently, I think they were all on a par with each other by the end.

Preparing for performance

Unfortunately, I’m not a natural performer. I don’t like being in the spotlight; I get nervous and mess things up. Although public speaking is usually OK, public piano playing is much harder. Performance anxiety is not uncommon amongst pianists, particularly adult amateurs, but it is incredibly frustrating! However, it is possible to improve, and clearly I was going to have to in order to get through an exam and indeed be deserving of something called a “performance” diploma! So, as well as learning my pieces really really well, I tried a number of different approaches to try to become more comfortable with performing.

First, I practised performing. I played in front of people, fairly regularly, mostly at informal gatherings of other pianists – because we’re a forgiving bunch, right? I also recorded myself often and learned to keep going, no matter what. As the exam date approached, I organised numerous small recitals in front of friends, family and (most intimidatingly) colleagues. I trialled different strategies for the day itself – including a mixture of practising, exercising and resting – until I knew exactly what I would do and when. I recorded myself, listened, critiqued, took notes, and improved. Little by little, the performance anxiety reduced; it didn’t go away, but I got better at managing my nerves.

Second, I augmented my musical preparation with yoga and mindfulness meditation. By the final few months, I knew I could play the pieces technically, but I was still working on communicating the programme in its entirety, and minor concentration lapses threatened to throw me off course. I needed to learn to be fully present in the moment of music-making, and not allow any unhelpful or self-sabotaging thoughts to distract me. Even a moment’s inattention can result in small slips that cascade into disasters, and the dreaded memory lapse is a perennial fear for anyone playing without a score. But I figured learning to stay focussed was like everything else in music: it improves with practice. So I started doing daily short meditation sessions aimed at recognising the wandering mind and bringing it back to the present. Ultimately, I have no doubt that mindfulness meditation helped me stay focused on the music and breathe through my nerves.

And finally, I studied. I read about Beethoven, about pianists, about memory and about performance. The list of authors included pianists, musicologists, music historians and psychologists. I also listened to different performances, as well as podcasts, interviews and lectures from musicians talking about their craft. All this helped me to get into the mindset of being a performing pianist and a musical interpreter.

Waiting for the result

It’s an age-old truism that the journey is more important than the destination. And that is certainly how I feel about my FTCL. Of course, I hope I’ve passed! But, regardless of the outcome, I’m glad I did it, from start to finish. I feel lucky to have been able to bask in such glorious music, to study it and really get to know it well. And I feel grateful to have shared that journey with so many other people who are passionate about the piano.

The only question now is: what shall I do next?

Caroline Wright is a musician (MMus, LTCL) and scientist (MSci, PhD). Her compositions have a diverse range of influences, from classical and contemporary to blues and jazz, film and folk, dance and electronica.

By |

I came across this phrase on Twitter, to describe doing short bursts of practicing, rather than long stretches. This may seem counter-intuitive: surely we should be practicing for long stretches of time to see noticeable progress?

It’s a myth, which unfortunately persists, that professional pianists do hours and hours of practicing, cloistered in solitude with just the instrument and scores for company. In reality, many of the professional pianists I know personally or have interviewed acknowledge that after about 45-60 minutes the law of diminishing returns starts to kick in, one’s concentration and energy starts to flag, and it’s time to take a break.

Practicing the piano requires commitment and consistency, but many people, especially amateur pianists and children, may feel overwhelmed by the prospect of long practice sessions; this can be dismotivating too.

Time is an important factor for the busy professional, amateurs pianists who need to fit practicing into the realities of daily life, and children. While it may be tempting to cram in hours of practice at a time, small amounts of regular practice can be much more beneficial in the long run.

Enter the notion of ‘practice snacking’.

When I taught piano, mostly to children and teenagers, the hardest aspect of the job was encouraging them to do their practicing. 30 minutes can seem A Very Long Time to a young child or a teenager who wants to be hanging out with friends rather than with Chopin and Co. I often pointed out to my students that 3 slots of 10 minutes each adds up to 30 minutes, and that it is possible to do very useful work in just 10 minutes.

I didn’t confine this advice only to my students. I applied it to myself, because when I was working towards my performance diplomas, I was having to fit in my practicing around my teaching and other work, and I became adept at practice snacking. Doing small amounts of practice allowed me to focus more intensely on specific aspects of the pieces I was studying.

A “little and often”, snacking approach to practice can be extremely beneficial. It is a truth universally acknowledged that consistency and quality of practice wins over quantity. Mindlessly hacking away at that Etude for 2 hours is not only boring, but is largely wasted time. It’s far better to take a focussed approach, to know exactly what needs to be practiced – perhaps that tricky arpeggiated passage or the left-hand accompaniment – and to break down the practicing into manageable, ‘snackable’ sections. Focusing on specific areas during shorter practice sessions can help you to identify and address any problem areas. When you only have a short amount of time, you are forced to be more efficient and targeted in your practice. You can work on a specific passage, technique, or even just one hand at a time, and really work at improving it. Additionally, breaking down more complex pieces into smaller, more manageable segments can make learning them feel less daunting. Keep a regular note of what needs work and know exactly what you want to do/achieve at each practice session.

One of the most significant advantages of doing small amounts of piano practice like this is that it helps build consistency. Consistency is key when it comes to learning a new skill and by committing to a few minutes of practice every day, you are more likely to build the habit of practicing regularly. Regular, ‘practice snacks’ can help you build good habits, routine and discipline. It’s much easier to commit to practicing for 15-20 minutes a day than it is to find hours at a time to dedicate to the piano. By making a habit of practicing every day, even for a short amount of time, you are actually setting yourself up for success in the long run; over time, this consistency will result in noticeable progress.

Small amounts of piano practice can also help you avoid burnout and fatigue. Practicing for hours at a time can be mentally and physically exhausting, leading to frustration and even injury. By breaking up your practice into smaller chunks, you give yourself time to rest and recover in between sessions. This can help you stay motivated and engaged with the piano over a longer period of time.

Nutritionists tell us that snacking can be bad for us, but in the case of piano practice, it’s definitely beneficial!

Related content

Are you practicing enough?

This site is free to access and ad-free, and takes many hours to research, write, and maintain. If you find joy and value in what I do, please consider making a donation to support the continuance of this site

Make A Donation