As part of the celebrations for my blog’s 10th anniversary, I asked people to submit recordings. Here are two very contrasting pieces by friends of mine, who are, like me, very keen amateur pianists and lovers of the piano and its literature. In recent years, I’ve had the pleasure of performing with Neil and Julian at the very popular and enjoyable house concerts which Neil organises in his home in West Sussex.
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Having set up the office to be able to work from home, and been successfully working from home for a week or so, I receive a phone call to say that I have been furloughed with immediate effect. So what should an amateur pianist do to fill all these spare hours?
The answer is a no-brainer – PRACTICE! So in line with Government restrictions, a routine soon built up: two hours in the morning followed by a walk (weather permitting) at lunchtime, another couple of hours in the afternoon, and then watch the ‘Rocky Horror Show’ from Downing Street at 5pm.
I am very lucky in as much as I have a brilliant piano teacher who foresaw exactly what was going to happen and helpfully suggested that perhaps it would be a good thing to abandon what I was currently looking at and learn a Beethoven piano sonata instead; he suggested Op 110 as it was a wonderful piece and had enough to keep me occupied and on the straight and narrow (if only he knew!) for the time being. So I immediately ordered the Urtext edition, which duly arrived on my doorstep within 48 hours – and so the fun and games began.
After the initial read-through to get the overall feel for the piece and see how it was to be tackled, it was down to the nitty-gritty. Out came the notes from the various piano courses I had attended with a view to putting all these different learning techniques in place – break it down, isolate the actual problem and get out the metronome, etc., and soon recognisable strains of Beethoven were emanating from the house.
So the ambitious plan was set – try and get through the whole sonata by the time I have my next lesson, whenever that would be. The main reason I had avoided this piece like the plague was that it had a fugue or two in the last movement; however, with enough graft it should EVENTUALLY start to take shape and I was told that I couldn’t use the excuse that my hands were on the small side – so just get on with it.
Now, having a practice regime is great but my husband and neighbours are not used to the constant aural bombardment. So far they have been very polite about it and one has even provided my husband with a man-cave to retreat to. I am sure they are all looking forward to me going back to work, whenever that might be, but in the meantime, I need to be considerate about the length of time that they have to put up with the noise and also the time of day it is inflicted on them.
As well as a superb grand piano, I am very lucky to own a Roland keyboard and this has really influenced the way in which I practice. With a set of decent headphones, the sound is great but it also has a secret weapon – an internal electronic metronome which can’t be thrown at the wall when it doesn’t keep time with your constant internal clock! So I can practice day or night without disturbing anyone (although I believe you know when I am playing as you can hear the noise of the keys being depressed over the top of the TV downstairs!)
Many hours of fun and bad language followed (particularly when tackling the fugues in the last movement) and then to prepare for a piano lesson with a difference – via Skype! So a date was set and software tested with a neighbour, and come the day we couldn’t get a connection on the laptop. But where there is a will, there’s a way. Abandon the laptop by the grand piano and use the keyboard with the mobile strapped to the top of the handle of the hoover! I was more worried about our stack of towels by the keyboard being visible than Op 110….
Several weeks on and Skype has been mastered and the laptop is now behaving – shame about the pupil. I am getting used to playing to a laptop balanced on a bar stool – shame there’s no bar! – and having my lesson at home with all the distractions that brings with it. If anyone thinks piano lessons by Skype are a doddle – think again. They work in a totally different way and are very productive, although I have yet to be convinced that pedalling is totally covered. I still wonder if there is any possibility of rigging up YouTube and using a professional recording one week instead of me….nice thought!!!!!!
In the meantime, the horrendous disease that has been incarcerating us all seems to be receding and so, if all goes to plan, I will be attending piano masterclasses in France in late August. Usually, I spend months preparing and memorising what I am going to take, but this year is different: the choice has been made for me – a certain Beethoven sonata. Can I prepare it in time? Only time will tell, but due to an enforced lockdown routine, the notes are learned and it is now being memorised (slowly!).
So what have I learned over the lockdown? On the surface the answer is very easy – Beethoven’s Op 110.
However, there is a deeper answer to that question. We have all been housebound for several months and there are people I know who have really found this period very difficult. But at a time when the arts are suffering through lost performances, music is being cut from schools and rumours that it could be cut from curricula in the short term to make up for the loss in the Three Rs, music is a subject or way of life that gives you a code for living.
Music demands dedication – you have to practice. In order to practice you need patience, thoughtfulness and tolerance. In the society in which we live, we need all of these in spades – particularly now. Surely people must realise that music teaches you about life and not just the pieces for your next exam or performance?
Lisa started learning the piano at 10 and, having decided that riding professionally was not for her (or rather her parents!), she auditioned for a place on the GR Course at the Royal Academy of Music, where she studied the piano with Peter Uppard and Margaret Macdonald. On leaving the RAM, shedid a short part-time stint at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama beforegoingto work as a Director of Music at a prep school. However,the lure of thebrightlights of the big cityand her family relocating to the UK were too much of a draw and Lisa ended up moving back to London and working in the City for many years. She marriedand moved to the South West, competed in EnduranceHorseRiding atthe highestlevel both at home and abroad, and worked for a number of blue chip companies in various roles. She hasrecentlycome back to playing the piano after a gap of 30 years.Lisa isnowmaking up for lost time and tackling all the repertoire she should have looked at years ago!
Now its sixth year, La Balie, nestled in beautiful rolling countryside in south-west France, offers a very special kind of experience to adult pianists. The brainchild of former investment banker Fiona Page, in just a handful of years La Balie has become a go-to musical destination for pianists from all around the world, and the summer courses are now an established part of the piano calendar, a fact recognised by Pianist magazine in 2019 when it named La Balie in its top 10 piano courses and festivals around the world.
Much more than a ‘piano holiday’, La Balie offers unrivalled luxury accommodation, gourmet food prepared by an in-house chef, a friendly convivial atmosphere, excellent practice facilities and, above all, expert and supportive tuition from internationally-renowned pianist-teachers.
Created with taste, expertise and passion, the secret of La Balie’s success is an emphasis on personal attention and exceptional teaching. With three masterclasses, two individual lessons and recital opportunities for each guest, everyone is scheduled to play on each day of the course – an important consideration for anyone attending a piano course. Guests usually choose three pieces to study in their masterclass sessions with additional pieces selected to perform in the evenings and at the end of course concert. The courses are devised to be intensive and to equip each guest with a meaningful set of skills to encourage confident independent learning and productive practising on returning home. They are also designed to be fun and to provide plenty of time for both practice and relaxation – and who can resist La Balie’s gorgeous saltwater pool on a hot summer’s afternoon, the air heavy with the scent of lavender?
The atmosphere is in no way competitive….but instead full of mutual support and pleasure in the progress of others
Teaching and concerts at La Balie take place in a light-filled, air-conditioned studio, complete with a magnificent Steinway D piano (a rarity amongst piano courses in France), and a second quality grand piano for demonstrating and piano duos. The room also has a superb recordable acoustic, which only enhances the quality of live performances, and offers students and tutors a really special space in which to play.
After daily tuition and practising or relaxation, evenings begin with an informal “aperitif concert” where guests can hone their performance skills and enjoy playing to a friendly, sympathetic audience. Dinner follows, taken al fresco in the attractive garden with delicious freshly-prepared food, fine local wines and a magnificent cheeseboard. There are also two tutor recitals during the week, one of which is held, atmospherically, by candlelight later in the evening, the piano’s sounds dissolving into the night sky….
One of the chief attractions of a piano course is the opportunity to connect with other pianists. Playing the piano can be a solitary activity and a course is one of the best ways to meet other pianists, hear one another play, share repertoire, indulge in piano chat, and have fun while learning. Firm friendships are forged at La Balie, with many participants returning year after year, not only to enjoy the expert tuition but to catch up with piano friends. This conviviality is further enhanced by piano meetups, performance platforms and masterclasses hosted by La Balie in London throughout the year.
There was a tremendous sense of camaraderie and solidarity…..everything was beautifully done and impeccably organised: an artistic achievement in itself
I felt the luxury of learning with an inspired teacher/performer who really drew his students into this magic of the piano
For 2020, La Balie boasts an impressive quartet of tutors – Charles Owen, Noriko Ogawa, Vedrana Subotic and Martin Cousin – who between them will run six courses from early May to the end of August. Guests are guaranteed a warm welcome, superb tuition, wonderful accommodation and food, and, above all, the chance to indulge a passion in a truly magical, inspirational setting that will send you home with renewed focus and enthusiasm.
6-13 May – CHARLES OWEN
24 -31 May – 2020 VEDRANA SUBOTIC
4 – 11 June – 2020 NORIKO OGAWA
17 – 24 June – CHARLES OWEN
10 – 17 July – MARTIN COUSIN
23 – 20 August – MARTIN COUSIN
Booking is now open – please visit the La Balie website for full details
Finchcocks has announced 20 new piano courses for 2020
* Courses will be taught by internationally recognised tutors, including Graham Fitch and concert pianists Warren Mailley-Smith and Tom Poster
* Choose from a range of beginner, intermediate and advanced adult courses, from ‘Music and mindfulness’, ‘Managing Performance Anxiety’, ‘Chopin and Rachmaninoff’ and many more
Learning a new skill is the 6th most popular New Year’s resolution according to YouGov; so this new year, why not try a piano course at Finchcocks?
20 piano courses for 2020
Finchcocks has released 20 piano courses for 2020, ranging from complete beginner classes to those for intermediate and advanced players.
For those looking to work on self-care, the Music and Mindfulness retreat in February will take your worries from major to minor. The course focuses on the relaxing nature of playing piano with the restorative effects of yoga to provide a blissfully relaxing weekend escape. It’s hosted by internationally recognised concert pianist Tom Poster and his wonderful Yogi wife, Elena Urioste.
Looking to hone specific skills? The Managing Performance Anxiety or Applied Theory Course may be just the ticket. Neil Nichols, owner of Finchcocks, said: “For anyone feeling like they need to brush up their understanding of harmony and notation, we have also created a dedicated music theory weekend – based on the ABRSM grade 5 syllabus – and brought to life with practical examples and tips on how it can make you a better player.”
Warren Mailley Smith, who famously became the first British pianist to perform Chopin’s complete works for solo piano from memory back in 2016, is also hosting composer-specific courses at Finchcocks, ideal for those who love the music of Chopin or Rachmaninoff.
No summer holiday plans just yet? Why not combine piano practice with a staycation and enroll in one of Finchcocks’ five day summer courses. Guests of the piano school stay in complete tranquility and are free to roam the picturesque manor grounds between practice.
The majority of courses take place Friday to Sunday (unless otherwise stated). All courses include boutique accommodation, delicious food cooked by Finchcocks’ private chef, wine and world-class tuition.
Finchcocks piano courses allow adults to revisit an old hobby and rediscover the enjoyment all over again. It’s extremely easy nowadays to get lost in the hustle and bustle of life, but taking some time out for the piano is really good for the soul – as well as our memory and mental health
Neil Nichols, owner of Finchcocks
Finchcocks has had an interesting cultural and musical history over the years.
After standing for two centuries in the midst of glorious parkland and surrounded by hop-gardens in idyllic tranquillity, the arrival of the twentieth century and the First World War brought tougher times. Siegfried Sassoon was a regular guest, and adored “the wide and slippery oak stairs” and the “gracious red brick front of the house”. But the house was eventually requisitioned by the army during the Second World War and suffered a period of prolonged neglect.
Its fortunes improved dramatically when Richard and Katrina Burnett purchased the house in 1971, and set about restoring the property to its former glory. Their interest wasn’t just in the historic Grade 1 listed building, but in establishing a collection of historical keyboard instruments, which over the course of the subsequent 50 years, gained an international reputation and uniquely offered visitors from around the world the chance to play every instrument on display.
When the museum closed in 2015, many feared the music might stop and the lights might go out forever. But in 2016, Finchcocks was purchased by Neil and Harriet Nichols, who were determined to keep the music going.
Since establishing the piano school early in 2017, the newly established musical venture has received rave reviews. The BBC music magazine described it as “Paradise for pianists”, with the Sunday Times, the Spectator, the Pianist magazine and Classic FM all enthusing about the “luxury rooms”, “fine dining” and “incredible collection of grand pianos”, including the newly acquired Steinway Model B.
Weekend course or summer course?
Finchcocks offers both weekend and summer courses at all levels. Guests come from all over the world – some seeking to re-immerse themselves in the world of piano playing after a gap of a few decades, and others working hard towards and exam or a performance diploma.
Weekend courses consist of a mix of workshops to develop technique, masterclasses (focussing on performance) and individual tuition. Each course includes an evening recital on Saturday night, locally sourced food prepared by the in-house chef, delicious wine and beautifully appointed en-suite bedrooms.
Each guest has will have the opportunity to play each of the 10 grand pianos at Finchcocks, and the chance to be inspired by some incredible tutors in the most magical of settings.
This is a sponsored post. All information and images are supplied by Finchcocks.
Disclaimer: The Cross-Eyed Pianist does not necessarily endorse organisations that provide sponsored posts which link to external websites, and does not endorse products or services that such organisations may offer. In addition, The Cross-Eyed Pianist does not control or guarantee the currency, accuracy, relevance, or completeness of information found on linked, external websites. However, every effort is made to ensure such information contained on this site is accurate at the time of publication.
Pianists do not devote their lives to their instrument simply because they like music….there has to be a genuine love simply of the mechanics and difficulties of playing, a physical need for the contact with the keyboard….inexplicable and almost fetishistic….
– Charles Rosen
The members of my piano Meetup group, my students, the people who play street pianos – they are all “pianists” to me.
Yet in the research for this article, I discovered that many people believe the title “pianist” assumes a certain level of capability and should only be conferred upon a select few – professional concert pianists or those who have achieved an extremely high level of musical attainment.
“Oh I’m not a proper pianist!” is a common refrain from the amateur pianists I meet regularly, some of whom are very advanced players. But what is a “proper” pianist? Is it someone who can perform complex repertoire from memory, with confidence, poise and flair, who has undergone a rigorous professional training, who has 50-plus concertos “in the fingers”….? Or is it simply a person who self-identifies with playing the piano?
Google isn’t much help either. Type in “Being a pianist” and the search throws up any number of “How to be a better pianist” sites, “top 10 worst things about being a pianist” or “15 steps to become an amazing piano player” (if only it were that easy!).
A confession: although I have played the piano for nearly two-thirds of my life, it wasn’t until I had secured my first professional qualification (a performance diploma, taken in my late 40s), that I felt I could justifiably describe myself as “a pianist”, rather than someone who “plays the piano”. When I started to give public concerts, sometimes for real money, I stopped feeling like I was playing at being a pianist, a fraudulent concert pianist.
Being a pianist implies an intensity of connection, commitment, passion and focus. For those who play professionally, it can be all-embracing, sometimes overwhelmingly so, for one must live and breathe the instrument and its literature. Work shapes every hour of the day, the cadence by which one sets one’s life, always feeding the artistic temperament, the pressure to achieve matched only by the pressure to sustain, and always the uncomfortable knowledge that one is only as good as one’s last performance. In addition, the competitive nature of the profession coupled with its job insecurity leads many professional pianists to pursue, by necessity, what is fashionably called a “portfolio career” which may include teaching and lecturing, running summer schools, arts administration or even roles outside the music industry. “Being a pianist” can feel distinctly unglamorous, restrictive, sometimes lonely, often badly paid….
“I play the piano” suggests a more casual relationship with the instrument, something one does occasionally, at weekends, on Sundays….Yet many of the amateur pianists I encounter display a passionate commitment to the instrument which borders on obsession, regardless of the level at which they play. These people are not dreaming of the stage at Wigmore or Carnegie Hall; no, they play and practise for a personal challenge and fulfillment, a sense of one’s own accomplishment, to be better than one was yesterday while working towards tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…..It’s addictive, constant and consistent, sometimes therapeutic, often frustrating, but always, always compelling….It’s founded on love, of the instrument and its literature, and it is this love which drives these people to practise, to take lessons, and to strive to improve their playing, cherishing precious moments in their busy lives to find time to spend at the piano.
It’s a state of madness. Unless you’re any good. Even then, you drive yourself half mad and waste precious time proving yourself to idiots who haven’t a clue – David, professional pianist
There’s a frustration with which many of us who play at an advanced level are familiar – that people don’t really understand or appreciate what we do, or how hard it is (“does it get easier as you get better?” a friend of mine asked me recently. “No“, I replied. “You just get more efficient at working out how to do it!“). I remember the parent of one of my students commenting admiringly that it was “amazing” how the music just “came out” of my fingers. “How do you do it?” she asked. I felt like asking her whether she had ever considered why her daughter, my student, was required to practise regularly…. Yet for audiences and onlookers the magic, the mystique, of the pianist is very potent, and to reveal too much about our craft and art would dispel that.
Frustration, physical pain and constant setbacks. Sadly it doesn’t seem to be a mantle I can take off though – it’s just what I am
It’s my passion, frustrating, challenging and rewarding every day
It is the most important thing in my life, it makes me profoundly happy to play and teach this beautiful instrument and its wonderful repertoire. I never take it for granted. When I play, I am transported somewhere else beyond my music studio…
It means I can be pro-active with the world of music, and not just a bystander
It means feeling alive, it’s who I am. My life would be useless without music
– Tricia, professional pianist
Being a pianist puts us in touch with a vast repertoire, a rich seam of creativity, and some of the finest music ever written, and still being written. By engaging with it, we bring these works to life, like a conservator or gardener, every time we play. It puts us in touch with emotions and sentiments which are common to us all; it reminds us of our humanity, yet also transcends the pedestrian, the every day. In this way, for many of us being a pianist is an escape: as a child, I regarded the piano as a playmate, a place where I could go to weave stories and set my imagination free. Why should that be any different when one reaches adulthood?
For all of us who play the piano – amateur or professional – being a pianist offers limitless possibilities in what we can create and experience.
The real question is – what would you be without the piano?
amateur pianists at a piano summer school
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My first Chetham’s. The International Summer School & Festival for Pianists, that is. Manchester, UK. Two hundred and thirty participants. Forty tutors and staff. Phew!
What is Chetham’s? A holiday? An experience? A dream? Deep learning? A festival? Camaraderie? Joy? All these and more. Mental exhaustion? Yes. Tutorials throughout the day. Recitals each evening. And practice rooms open 6am til 11pm. Seven days (fourteen if you can do it) of end-to-end piano madness. Non-stop. Punctuated by meals and coffee breaks. And for those with stronger metabolisms than I, late nights in the bar or around town. I needed sleep. Lots. Be prepared to pace yourself.
So what is Chetham’s? A privilege. Yes. A shock, also. So much talent. I feel … inadequate. My journey just beginning, despite the last years of obsessive practice. I am … nowhere. Visceral. I feel it keenly as I watch the young people and experienced ‘adult amateurs’. It’s hard to come to terms with this reality, despite the modest progress I have made. So little for the effort expended. Like a heavy weight bearing down on me, I hardly dare to imagine what will happen if, in the end, I find the journey too onerous.
Day 0: Registration. Check in. Unpack. Explore. And in the evening (from 5pm) three recitals! Three!! Nearly four hours of music, including Peter Donohoe CBE (Haydn programme).
Day 1: Tai chi (optional) Breakfast. 1-to-1 and group workshops. Coffee break. Workshops or practice. Lunch. Workshops. I play on stage, on a grand, for six minutes, to over seventy people. I am first to volunteer. Not bravery. Far from it. Desperation. Unless I do this my performance anxiety will kill whatever progress I have made. Dinner. Then three more recitals. Top international talent. 10pm. Bar. Wine (large glass). Sleep.
Repeat for six days. And *everyone* gets a piano.
Day 2: 9am. I am sitting in (observer) on a composition class. A young man, clearly ambitious (and knowledgeable) is explaining to a faculty tutor that he wishes to write a toccata. His tutor opens a copy of Spectrum, book IV (ABRSM) and invites the young man to accompany him at the keyboard in selected ‘miniatures’. They discuss style and compositional ideas. Exploring. There is a poster on the wall of the tutor’s office: Peter Maxwell Davies. My mind returns to 1975.
What is Chetham’s? Memory jogger and nostalgia generator.
Time for my second 1-to-1. Schubert. I learn how to play big chords, softly. And how Schubert requires far less pedal than I was using. Somehow Tippett enters the conversation. My tutor has a close relative now occupying the house where Tippett lived and composed. He tells me about the garden path he trod while writing Child Of Our Time. And as the lesson ends, my tutor tells me – based on what he heard and the way I took instruction – that I should be playing more advanced music: Grade 8 music. Music to my ears … but he does not know just how much work I do at Grade 6. LOL.
Still day 2. Lunch. I sit down by myself. A lady a couple of chairs away seems eager to introduce herself. We exchange stories. As a student, she studied Jazz, at Leeds, and now teaches. I start listing some of my musical heroes, starting with Corinne Bailey Rae. Her face lights up. “I was at college with Jason and Steve!” Oh my. My new Chetham’s friend (Leeds accent, there’s the clue) shows me photos of herself and the gang.
Is this musical world smaller than we imagine? Is that because being ‘musical’ is rare? Or weird? Does it require a particularly high IQ, or is it just a niche innate ‘talent’? More evidence emerges … I am in the school shop (Forsyths, who also ship-in additional grand pianos for the summer school) and ask a question about the Spectrum series of ‘contemporary music’ I heard about in the composition class. A man standing nearby asks, “Ah. Do you like contemporary music?”
“Britten and Tippett,” I reply.
“Oh, not contemporary then,” he says. “Britten would be 106 this year.” He smiles.
(He has a point. I have some catch-up to do.)
And then explains he has “worked with Britten”, and “lived for a while at The Red House”. Wow.
“And did I mention that I also worked with Tippett. Nice man.”
And the young woman behind the book counter joins in. “Yes, Tippett came to conduct our school orchestra. I agree, really nice. Fun. Britten was a but stuffy.”
Racing ahead with more connections the man (a Faculty tutor I now see from his badge) adds, “I taught Ed Sheeran you know. Lovely family. Must catch up with him some day.”
So there we are. What is Chetham’s? The centre of things.
How can this still be Day 2? But it is. A (much anticipated) evening recital in the gorgeous Stoller Hall (perfect acoustics). Angela Hewitt. Bach. The monumental Goldberg (30) Variations. Four (four) standing ovations! A once-in-a-lifetime performance. Superhuman. Truly. Everyone agrees.
Day 3. The afternoon class introduces a wonderful idea. We are each asked to i) walk to the piano (applause), ii) improvise “anything” (no more than thirty seconds), iii) take a bow and iv) walk offstage. It works like a dream. Those who were reticent to play before are, by the end of the course, playing to the group.
Day 3. Evening. The bar. Chatting. We have just been treated to not one but TWO concertos. Brahms No. 1 and No. 2, with full orchestra (the first performed by Murray McLachlan, founder of the summer school, the second by the french-American pianist Eugen Indjic). A quiet lady joins us. I ask her what she has played to her group. In an accent I don’t recognise she explains she is too nervous. She has travelled to Manchester from Brazil. And not played! (other than to her tutor) Well, that has to end. Gathering up a colleague, and despite it being late (11pm), I suggest that we grab a room with a couple of grand pianos and play to each other for an hour or so. And we do. And my little plan works. She plays a complex piece by Villa Lobos. Slow and hesitant but lovely. And half an hour later she is showing off another piece, rich in Brazillian rhythms. Mission accomplished.
(Later in the week I repeat this trick for an IT Project Manager who had previously only played to his teacher at home … not even to his family and friends. But he played for me, at Chetham’s, and later found the confidence to play in his final group workshop.)
So what is Chetham’s? Mutual support network. Agony aunt for performance anxiety limited international piano tourists.
Day 4. I sit in on an ‘Improvisation” lesson. The pupil is a lady I met on the bus from the station. She has spotted my music bag and introduced herself. Her first Chetham’s, just like me. To the surprise of her tutor, she breaks down, tearful, before the lesson gets underway. The explanation: the first two days had shown her a new world: what it *really* means to be a musician. She explained that her musical education at school, and with various ‘teachers’ thereafter, was little but rote learning. No creativity. No authenticity. I understand her. My childhood experience was limiting. Decades pass and along comes Chetham’s to show us what the journey is really about. Two minutes later she has recovered her composure as she listened to the kind, empathetic, words of reassurance from her sensitive faculty teacher.
Day 4. Just before lunch. A friend from a London-based piano circle I attend (LPMG) emerges from class. We decide to help each other and find an empty practice room. He helps me with my sight reading. We exchange notes on Bach minuet style. We play Satie to each other, wondering how to achieve evenness.
Day 4. Afternoon tutorial. More input. Listen. Apply. This is good. I am learning. I hope it sticks. I’ll try.
Quote of the week:
Pupil: “I always get these bars wrong.”
Tutor: “I see. Have you tried playing them right?”
Evening concert. Sarah Nicolls’ ‘Outside-In-Piano’. Difficult to describe. Sarah builds vertical pianos, exposing the strings. The keyboard is sawn off and put back at a ninety degree angle. (No reaching over to get to the strings and the audience sees everything) Sarah uses this ‘instrument’ and a pile of electronics to compose new music. Tonal music washed in pads of sound coaxed from the unusual piano using her box of toys. What is this music? Part theatre, I could call it acoustic-electro-Dada’esque art. The hour with Sarah bewitches the audience. I meet up with her after the show, and she gives me an old piano-key from one of her construction projects. Apparently it contains a secret download-key to her digital album.
Sarah turns out to be an ex-student here at the school. So what is Chetham’s? Creativity incubator. And talent attractor.
Sarah is building a new InsideOutPiano (grand) using high-tech light weight components. The unique #StandingGrand will be built by FuturePianoLtd. The design will occupy no more space than a traditional upright and be able to be carried by two people. This will allow Sarah to perform more wildly and perhaps open the market for more musicians to own such a beautiful and unique instrument. Please consider supporting this project here on Kickstarter.
Day 5. Late (after an evening of recitals). Cabaret!! Not the musical; rather an end of summer school tradition. We assemble in the hall for the end of week celebration. A few have been roped in to provide the ‘entertainment’. A talented student plays the ubiquitous Bach Prelude in C major from the WTC Book 1. He is sitting on the ground, facing away from the keyboard, hands over his head and swapped left-right. This and a host of other entertainment closes the night. And before you ask … yes, I volunteered. It went down OK (for a first timer). Enough said of that the better.
Day 6. The following morning. Bit-of-a-head after late night wine. But I had signed up to play in the ‘leaving day’ recitals at 10AM. Without music! Memorization. Satie. Gnossiennes No. 1 and No. 2. Six minutes. That should be enough of me for this audience.
So what is Chetham’s? Unique. Essential. If you want to find out what lies ahead, just around the corner, waiting to pop up and poke fun at you. I’m back at school, where I need to be. The stepping stone.
What was the oddest thing I learnt? Clementi lives in Croydon. His name is Chris and he is a bellringer. Yes, Clementi’s great great (etc) grandson lives not too far. I knew there was a reason I found those exercises a little too close for comfort….
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