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Guest post by Alexandra Westcott

This article about learning the piano, the skills and the memories was lovely, and jogged my own memories of myself both as student and teacher.

I was about 6 when I used my sister’s books to learn the piano – they had photos for hand positions and finger numbers and that seemed all I needed (I’ve no idea to this day how I learned the rhythm and counting; I don’t remember reading about it but I must have!). I raced through the books and started fiddling with any music floating around, which was a fair amount as my Mum was a singer and also played the piano. I remember having the C major Mozart sonata at home and learning two pages during each holiday when home from boarding school at around 8 or 9. At this point Mum asked me if I wanted lessons, and because all my friends hated it (they hated the
practice); I said no because I loved playing, but she obviously ignored me and I ended up with a teacher I adored with whom I became very close.

I played the piano in all my spare time to the extent my reports used to say ‘she spends a lot of time at the piano’ and during prep, having done my homework as fast as possible, would skip off to the music rooms. I was fussy even then about the piano I played, and only the teachers’ or the grand in the assembly hall would do! None of the awful practice pianos for me!

During my time at school with this wonderful teacher, me and a group of friends would be taken away for a weekend each term to him and his wife at his amazing ancient cottage. He was the church organist and ran the church choir so we ate well on local Devon produce that he was given by local friends and members of the church. At times we also had breakfast in bed (often sugar on toast!), It was all very idyllic and I stayed in touch with him and his wife until they died.

For the 6th form I left there and went to a college local to my home, so I changed teacher and went to a local music school during my A levels. A completely different teacher and one the parents were scared of but the pupils loved. We did Sunday concerts at her house, always with cake, and a large concert once a year at the 6th form college at which she got her advanced students to do a movement of a concerto with her school orchestra. I did the first movement of the Schumann. I never wanted to be a concert pianist but this was good experience and I later had the chance to play on a few occasions with another orchestra, and for one of the concerts performed the whole of the Schumann. It brought back many memories.

I had another teacher for my degree, and then had a break in formal lessons before returning to a commitment to my own playing in my 20s. I had a local teacher for a year but then met Nelly Ben Or and knew I had to learn with her.

Nelly Ben Or

I studied with Nelly for many many years undoing my bad habits in order to acquire new and better ones and becoming a much better pianist, and a better teacher for that. I would often have lunch along with my lessons, and, again, house concerts and other performances enhanced the lessons. And, yes, you guessed it, always with accompanying food and drink.

As a teacher myself I became the sort of teacher I had grown up with; I had close bonds with my students, always had house concerts and local concerts both with tea parties afterwards, usually some chocolate for after lessons, and often would become close friends and either take them out for tea when young, or stay in touch later on.

Piano teachers, or any instrument teacher, hold a particular place in the life of a child. Such a close bond is formed and often many confidentialities shared. There needs to be trust for something that is hard to learn and something that needs self expression in execution. It is maybe not surprising that the bond becomes a firm friendship (and, often, one that needs physical as well as sustenance)!

I often wonder about my students’ memories of their time with me and whether they have similar memories as I do about my own mentors. I hope they hold the same  happy and cherished memories in their hearts for all the hours we spent and fun we had together as I do for my own teachers.

Alexandra Westcott is a piano teacher based in north London who specialises in understanding the piano in the light of the Alexander Technique, as studied with Nelly Ben Or, and encourages all areas of learning in a creative way. Find out more here

If you would like to share your piano memories, whether you are a teacher or pianist, or bothm, please get in touch

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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.

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

Not gonna lie: I had no idea what to write for this month’s Notes from the Keyboard.

Why? Well, honestly, for a lot of December and much of January, my enthusiasm for piano was lower than a gopher’s interest in sunbathing. 

Not that I wasn’t still playing consistently. I was, if less each day. I just didn’t feel that spark, the deep joy that I usually get from sitting down and banging on lovingly caressing the black and white keys.

Spoiler alert: I’m feeling much better now, back in the piano groove.

What changed?

Simple: my repertoire.

At the beginning of December, before a 6-week winter break from lessons, my teacher recommended – ok, convinced me – that it was time to learn a fugue. Specifically, Bach’s Cm Fugue from the Well-Tempered Clavier. 

I’d managed to mostly avoid Bach’s work, if only because I’m hard-headed and bring my own pieces to my teacher for study. (He does choose pieces for me, just not that often. The recent Beethoven sonata I wrote about, for one.)

Anyway, The F**kin’ Fugue. Out of the gate, I enjoyed it. Finding the theme, the left and right hand conversation, the different voicing. I dug the intellectual challenge.

Then… I stagnated with it. But I wanted to play it and knew it was good for my hand independence, among other things. My future piano self would be so.damn.grateful. I must persevere!

I’ve done this before, but (wisely) realized when I needed to back off and just enjoy myself. This time, I pushed too long and started skipping my morning piano session, only sitting down for a lackluster few minutes in the evening.

We all know what happens when you push the day’s exercise or homework or piano to the evening. Quality suffers and dogs yowl forlornly at the sky, that’s what!

For me, the former for sure happened, and I’m quite sure our elderly cat eyed me with disdain a few times too. That was enough: I realized I was in a slump and clawed my way out of the piano slump. 

You know what I did instead of the dang fugue? I went back to the repertoire I love. Chopin. Alexis Ffrench. I retackled a samba version of Happy Birthday. I even played the much-maligned LUDOVICO EINAUDI! (I’ve written about him before.)

My energy changed overnight. Revisiting older works and fun, lighter new pieces reinvigorated me. And it drove home a big reminder:

I’m an amateur. I’m doing this FOR FUN. I don’t have to learn anything on a deadline. That means it can be – should be – fun. 

We pianists know it’s a lonely pursuit filled with hours of solitude. It’s necessary to enjoy the scales, the sightreading practice, and the brain-melt of a new piece. Otherwise, this hobby isn’t happening. That’s like aspiring to run marathons, but hating the morning 5-mile jaunt!

And so I end this post, dear reader, with a reminder. If you find your interest flagging in piano (or any hobby), ask yourself “How could I make this more fun?” 

Perhaps it’s as simple as switching repertoire, or maybe it’s setting up a digital piano outside to mix things up. Playing with other people. Taking a break from the keys to strum a guitar? 

For me, the primary goal is enjoyment, personal fulfillment and being able to play Happy Birthday (samba version!) for a good friend. If I feel like digging a hole and chucking my piano deep into it, then I’m doing something wrong.

Now I just need to remember that next time I’m wrestling for too long with a difficult piece. For now, my love affair with piano continues.

Dakota Gale

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.

Read more articles in his Notes from the Keyboard series here

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Guest post by Dakota Gale. The latest article in Dakota’s series Notes from the Keyboard, aimed at adult pianists

I recently attended a piano performance, during which I spoke with a 92 year old woman sitting next to me. She’d played and taught piano for decades. When I mentioned that I take lessons online, her eyes widened. “ONLINE lessons? But…that is the most amazing thing!”

She’s not the only one surprised. “Wow, you take lessons online?” is a common response from most people, even after the nuclear proliferation of pandemic Zoom meetings.

Yep, ever since I began taking lessons in spring of 2021, I’ve done them online. My teacher, Antonio, is located in southern Brazil; I’m in the Pacific NW in the U.S, thousands of miles away. And it’s not just me; plenty of people do it, including:

  • Those looking for specific expertise (e.g. Chopin etudes from a professional)
  • Those being careful while going through chemo or with a disease affecting their immune system.
  • Those who travel a lot (tougher if you’re flying, obviously)
  • If you have a favoured, dear teacher, but one of you moves, going online allow you to continue lessons.

Me and Online Lessons

For me, initially I took online lessons because of two things: to save money and to avoid COVID.

Since then, I’ve seen additional benefits. For one, they’re much more time efficient. No travel across town! For parents, I imagine this would be a huge benefit since you’d avoid shuttling kids around. (Actually, one of my friend’s kids is taking lessons with Antonio.)

I travel fairly often and like to keep lessons going. In fact, I’m currently rolling around the Pacific NW with my wife for three months in a Airstream travel trailer. Between mountain bike rides, hikes, and hanging with friends, I’m both continuing to play consistently and still taking my weekly lesson. Courtesy of Starlink satellite internet and a digital Kawaii piano, I’m not skipping a beat.

When my teacher is on vacation, I’ve also taken lessons with professionals such as Grzegorz (Greg) Niemczuk, who I found on YouTube. You might be surprised how many YouTubers offer lessons (a friend takes lessons with the popular Heart of the Keys YouTuber.)

You know what makes piano better? Playing outside!

Beyond all those boring logistical things, Antonio being Brazilian brings a fun perspective to my experience. (I’ve learned a few choice phrases in Portuguese, for one!) I’ve also learned about (and love!) Brazilian music that I would otherwise not know, including tangos, the music of Tom Jobim and Ernesto Nazareth, and folk songs arranged for piano.

It inspired me to start a listening quest of different genres and international composers that has deepened my relationship to piano. Perhaps a local teacher would have provided that, but certainly it would have been different.

The nuts and bolts of online lessons

For those wondering how this is possible, allow me to describe the situation:

  • Antonio uses a Yamaha grand piano to teach. On it, he has four cameras for his face, top down on his hands, sideways on his hands, and another on his pedal. He even uses software that allows the camera to track his hands (AI magic!).
  • The sound quality is quite good–the nuances he can hear and comment on astonish me.
  • For my setup, I use a different system depending where I am. At home, it’s my computer with a webcam plus my phone on a stand looking straight down at my hands. While traveling, I just go with my phone on a small tripod set up to the side and occasionally my laptop in front of me. It works great.

The benefit of all this: the only time I’ve missed a piano lesson is when I’ve taken bikepacking trips. I challenge you to carry a full-size digital piano through the mountains…no thanks. A pianist needs to take a break from the keyboard SOMEtimes!

Resources:

To find an instructor, just type “piano lessons online” into any search engine. A few popular services: Superprof or Wyzant; a fellow traveler I met on this trip used Preply to find her ukelele instructor. (If you want to work with Antonio, just ping him on Whatsapp at +55 48 9181-9164.)

Cheers to piano on the road!

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