Musicians, especially young musicians, are bombarded with advice over the course of their career, especially in those early, fledgling years. Most advice will come from teachers, but also from peers, colleagues, friends, promoters, agents and critics. Knowing how to take and react to advice is an important part of the musician’s skillset, and the ability to sift through advice and take it on board or reject it is an art in itself. The way such advice is given also has an impact on how one values it.
Young and amateur musicians in particular may find it hard to strike a balance between taking advice which will be useful to them and rejecting that which is not. In part, this is due to confidence: if your teacher suggests playing a passage in a certain way, or taking a particular interpretative stance on a piece of music, you may feel obliged to bow to what you perceive to be their greater wisdom, and blindly accept what they are telling you. I encounter this attitude quite frequently amongst amateur pianists in particular. Some years ago at a piano course which attracts highly regarded professional pianists and teachers from around the world, not just the UK, I chatted to a student who had participated in masterclasses with a number of internationally-renowned pianist-teachers. “I’ve got five different ways to play the end of this Schubert sonata”, he said to me over tea, “and now I don’t know which version is the right one!”. Such confusion suggests, to me at least, a student who is either not very confident about their own interpretative choices or who believes that because such-and-such Famous Pianist told him to play the passage in a particular way, it must be the ‘right way’.
As we grow more confident as musicians – whether amateur, student or professional – we learn how to filter and question advice to suit our needs, and also to appreciate the importance of reflecting on that advice, because its usefulness may not be immediately apparent. It is not necessary to blindly accept everything that a teacher, or teachers, tell us. Instead, we need to be selective about the advice we are given and ensure that it is the right advice for us. A good teacher or mentor will understand this too and make suggestions, rather than didactically “telling” the student how to play the music. One of the most useful aspects of attending masterclasses and courses, where one will meet and play for other teachers, is that one is exposed to a broader range of expertise and viewpoints, which can fuel one’s ideas on how to approach the music, from a technical and artistic point of view.
The way advice is given also has an impact on how it is received. I have been lucky in my experiences with both my regular teachers and those I have encountered on courses and in masterclasses that their advice has always been given in a positive and supportive way. This makes one far more receptive to the advice, and suggests a degree of respect between teacher and student.
Sadly, now and then one will be given advice which may be well-meaning but is delivered in such a way that one feels discouraged or demoralised, or the advice is just given at the wrong time; many musicians are at their most sensitive in the moments immediately after a performance. Some years ago, I played a late work by Mozart at a concert at the end of a piano course, and during the post-concert reception, another of my teacher’s adult students told me in no uncertain terms that the ornaments were “all wrong”. This statement was made without any context nor suggestion as to how I might have played the ornaments “correctly”. I was so astonished, and hurt, that I couldn’t reply and despite receiving praise from my teacher, and very positive comments from other students on the course and audience members, this comment stung for some time afterwards and affected my attitude to the music I’d played. It proves that advice should be given discreetly and with care.
One of the rules of the piano club, which I co-founded in 2013, is that comments are kept positive and supportive. The club includes some players who are less advanced than others, and they can be particularly sensitive to negative feedback, which may affect their attitude to their practising and dent their confidence.
The teacher with whom I studied for six years, after returning to the piano seriously after a long absence, was adept at giving feedback and advice which was practical and supportive. Even when highlighting an error or weakness, she could frame her comments in such a way that one did not feel discouraged, and her skill in imparting advice clearly and articulately was a mark of her experience as a teacher and respected pedagogue.
“Best are those times when, as you listen to suggestions, you feel as if you’ve always known them to be true, somehow – but now you’re hearing them from another voice. There will always be degrees, shades; one can accept certain ideas from one musician, reject others. The only rule, perhaps, is that one should constantly remain alert, constantly ask oneself: ‘Is that true for me? For the music as I feel it inside?’”
…and how it relates to the performance of Western art music
Long read guest post by Dr Michael Low
I will never forget Tuesday 18th February 2020. In truth, there was nothing unremarkable about how the day itself unfolded: I woke up, went about my usual business of teaching, had lunch at my favourite coffee shop whilst browsing Premier League football news (yes, there was the small matter of Covid-19 that was making tidal waves in China and parts of Asia, but this has no interest to me. After all, “I live in Cape Town, and the damn thing probably needs a GPS or Google Maps to get here,” I reassured myself). The afternoon itself was equally uneventful: I did some grocery shopping in between teaching, practised for a few hours afterwards, then went home and ate the leftover dinner that my wife and I had cooked the previous day. It was after dinner that I received the phone call that changed my life forever, my beloved grandmother had passed away very suddenly, and in less than 48 hours I found myself in Changi Airport en route to Malaysia. I have visited Singapore many times in the last seven years, but I have never seen Changi airport so tranquil and serene, the exact opposite of its normal busy, bustling self. It was at this moment that I realised how potentially serious the Coronavirus was, and I prayed that it never finds its way to Cape Town.
Surely, but not slowly, the Coronavirus locked on to Google Maps and in under four weeks South Africa had her first infected case. Since then we have now been in lockdown for the best part of seven weeks and here I am writing to share my thoughts as the country ‘phases’ itself towards an economic recovery. However, before I proceed, I just want to be clear on the following points:
In regard to Covid-19, there is the narrative norm on one hand and the so-called ‘conspiracy theories’ on the other, as well as everything in between. The point of writing this article is not to promote any ‘school’ of thinking but rather try to be as neutral as is humanly possible.
The opinions (musical and otherwise) stated in this article are based on my experience as a human being, educator, musician and a pianist.
Here we go!
What I learn from the Coronavirus pandemic in relation to the performance of Western art music:
1. Be careful what you wish for…
Any die-hard fans of low budget, straight to video/DVD horror and slasher movies will no doubt be familiar with the above tagline as it was used use in Robert Kurtzman’s 1997 Wishmaster. In this film, an evil genie (known as the djinn) grants wishes to those who are willing to give up their souls. However, the wishes granted often contain a ‘catch’, or in other words, have an undesirable outcome for the wisher. For example (if my memory serves me correctly…), the djinn grants the wish of ‘eternal beauty’ to a female clerk by turning her into a mannequin! (Can you imagine wishing to play the Rachmaninoff 3rd Piano Concerto only to be turned into a CD player?) For those who are not so familiar with Wishmaster, doubtless you will remember the climax of Disney’s Aladdin, when the protagonist mocks Jafar for not being as powerful as the genie, all the while knowing that once Jafar wishes himself into a powerful genie, he will have ultimately made himself a prisoner to the lamp.
In fairness to András Schiff, having part of your upcoming book quoted in a national newspaper is not a bad marketing ploy. The only drawback is that the editor will always choose the section from the book which is the most – hmm, how can I put it – musically provocative? The internet is full of ‘clickbaits’ and I suspect the purpose behind quoting the more aggravating passages from Schiff’s writing is to generate not only attention but also as reaction. That is not to say that Schiff is wrong, but does it really matter that ‘the average’ audience who attends Classical music concerts cannot hear the difference between a German 6th and a Dominant 7th Chord? All of us start our musical journey somewhere: I was a self-confessed Richard Clayderman fan in my early childhood who dreamt of playing Francis Albert Lai’s ‘Love Story’ on my wedding day (Thank God I didn’t!), but as a result of attending live concerts, I developed a lifelong passion for Classical music and made it a big part of my life. I must also confess that I am no angel and have on a couple of occasions fallen asleep during live performances. It is my humble opinion that having an audience who is just (if not more) musically knowledgeable than the performer is akin to a patient who ends up diagnosing himself/herself in a medical consultation with a doctor. I have not read Schiff’s book, and there is every chance he is being quoted out of context. However, saying that modern audiences don’t know the difference between poor and outstanding performances is kind of like biting the hand that feeds you. And even if this is the case, what does it say about Schiff’s own standing as one of the most revered pianists of the twentieth century? (I must also confess that Schiff was one of my musical idols during my teenage years). On Schiff’s remark with regards to the ‘dos and don’ts’ of concert etiquette, I don’t think, even in his most surreal musical fantasies, that he envisages an age where the internet and social media would be the only platform available for live performance. If Schiff ever does a live stream, at least he won’t be giving death stares to certain audience members when they do cough or shuffle, and audience members will now be able to press pause for a bathroom break, especially when the encore is Schubert’s “Wanderer” Fantasy.
In fairness to Schiff, he has since apologised for what he had said. However, there is no denying that the pianist’s initial remark will continue to leave a lingering taste on the tongues of many Classical music critics and bloggers.
2. One size doesn’t necessarily fit all…
When the Chinese government took the decision to lock down Wuhan in January 2020, no one else in the world envisaged that this would be the beginning of a new world order. Indeed, the rest of Asia swiftly implemented the Chinese lockdown model, followed by most of Europe (apart from Sweden) and it was only a matter of time before countries on the African continent did the same. However, whereas the lockdown was dutifully observed in China and Germany, the entire practice has less of a desirable effect in countries such as the Britain and South Africa. This is not because the Chinese and the Germans are necessarily better than the British or the Africans, but because the collective mindset of citizens in every country is different. Sweeping statement perhaps, but China and Germany are known to be nations of extraordinary discipline (I say this with a small pinch of salt because there will always be exceptions to any argument: even in the most disciplined nations there will also be a handful of free-spirited beings. Conversely, in nations where freedom of expression and an easy-going way of life are encouraged, there will always be a handful of very disciplined people). In musical performance, the Chinese (and Orientals in general) are known for their peerless technique and poise, often the fruit of countless hours of practice. (I have been told that, in China, a piano student must ‘earn’ his/hers right to any musical repertoire by first completing at least all the Hanon Exercises as well as the first two books of Czerny’s School of Velocity!). Such precision of technical execution, combined with extraordinary agility, is what gives the Chinese pianist the ‘WOW’ factor: think of Lang Lang and Yuja Wang, although a case can be made for Miss Wang that it is not only her playing that has the ‘WOW’ factor. Like their Chinese counterparts, the Germans are a nation of law-abiding citizens who enjoy a sense of order to their everyday live. (It is possible to argue that the Chinese’s respect for the authority comes from a place of fear, whereas the Germans actually seem to enjoy following rules). I will never forget listening to a discussion between two former housemates of mine, one German, the other Italian: the former could not understand why the latter is so keen on evading tax whereas the latter cannot understand why the former is keen on paying tax! Hence, a ‘Germanic’ musical performance can often translate into emphasis of the downbeat, as well as the awareness of the music’s symmetrical phrase length, thus giving the listener a sense of structure, of knowing where exactly you are in the music. In other words, German pianists have the tendency to play more ‘down the bar line’, and I name Wilhelm Backhaus and Artur Schnabel as two exponents of this school. I have always felt that one of the challenges of playing any musical repertoire at the highest level, be it German or otherwise, is to ‘unsquare’ the so-called ‘square’ phrases, but once again, I must remind you that I am merely making a generalisation about German performers and German music. There will always be exceptions to the rule; Walter Gieseking and Wilhelm Kempff spring to mind.
I cannot speak for Britain, but the reason lockdown doesn’t have the effect it was supposed to have in South Africa has much to do with the country’s unstable infrastructures and volatile economy (South Africa’s state-owned enterprises have been surviving on state bailouts for years and the country has recently taken the decision to liquidated its national airline, the SAA, after years of mismanagement). As a result, South Africans have become very self-sufficient whilst making the most of their entrepreneurial abilities. When the South African president, Cyril Ramaphosa, announced that the sale of tobacco and alcohol would be prohibited during the national lockdown from the end of March, many South Africans decided that this was unconstitutional and ‘made another plan’ (the South African phrase for ‘Plan B’). The resulted in many smokers getting their supply of cigarettes from ‘unofficial’ sources as well as a spike (actually more akin to a wedge) in pineapple and yeast sales, as people brewed their own version of homemade pineapple beer. At the same time, there was also a gentleman across social media who subsidised his own income by delivering wine using an arial drone! When there was a clamp-down on these ‘illicit’ activities, some resorted to looting and burgling liquor stores, on a couple of occasions with the help of selected members of the South African Police force, who were meant to be enforcing the lockdown in the first place!
Any instrumental teacher worth their pedagogical salt will tell you just how important it is to address the basics such as rhythm, the reading of musical notation, posture and technique. At the same time, no two students are the same, and I have always felt that one of the hallmarks of a great teacher is the ability to successfully convey the same information to different individuals to achieve the desired result. Despite their differing styles of pianism and musical interpretation, Ossip Gabrilowitsch, Benno Moisewitsch, and Artur Schnabel all studied with Theodor Leschetizky. And even though Emil Gilels, Radu Lupu and Sviatoslav Richter were the student of Heinrich Neuhaus, all three of them could not have been more different in terms of their musical temperament. However, all these great pianists have one thing in common (that is if we discount their massive technique and repertoire, which is taken for granted at the highest level), they are first and foremost, musicians of the highest order (I say this with a slight reservation, because some of Richter’s late performances can be slightly off the mark, to say the least). In short: Gilels, Lupu and Richter all put the composer before themselves. I have always got the impression while listening to Gilels and Lupu’s performances (of Beethoven and Brahms in particular) that this is what the composer themselves wanted to say, only now they are saying it through the performer, who acts as a kind of conduit. As we entered an age of remote teaching, one only has to look at the YouTube channel of Graham Fitch and Josh Wright, two outstanding pedagogues who often remind the viewers that there is no one way of playing the piano. Sweeping statement perhaps, but it is possible to say that the techniques introduced in both Fitch and Wright’s video tutorials have one primary function: the economy of physical movement through the release of tension, which make for more efficient interpretation of the musical score.
3. The narrative norm is not for everyone…
In general, there seems to be three school of thoughts on Covid-19. The mainstream narrative belongs to the billionaire philanthropists, politicians, national media and medical professionals on the front line fighting this ‘invisible enemy’. They will tell you how dangerous and easily transmittable the virus is and show you the ‘facts’: hospitals all over the world are over-crowded with Covid-19 patients, the virus completely annihilates the human respiratory system, and until a vaccine is found, we will have to keep our ‘social distance’. Finally, they will justify the world-wide lockdown by saying that human lives are much more important than the country’s economy. The second narrative seeks to challenge the first, these are put forward by investigative journalists, independent news broadcasters, regular doctors and medical professionals (who changed their practice from conventional medicine towards natural and alternative healing modalities commonly known as functional medicine). They will argue that Covid-19 is not as deadly as the media make it out to be. They will also argue that there is a difference between dying of Covid-19 and dying with Covid-19. They will point to a flaw in Professor Neil Ferguson’s model (which sparked the lockdown in the UK and the US) and question the merit of social distancing (especially when Ferguson himself was guilty of the violating the curfew during lockdown). Finally, they will argue against the world-wide lockdown as it is not only catastrophic to the country’s economy but also leads to long-term psychological and emotional impact on people. For those without a regular pay cheque (like the majority of South Africans), it is a matter of rolling the dice and going back to work or die of hunger, and many chose the former. Those who are in favour of the third and final narrative are often dubbed conspiracy theorists. Based on the argument put forward by the investigative journalists and independent news broadcasters, they believe that Covid-19 is manufactured in a science lab and that the current pandemic is in fact a ‘plandemic’ masterminded by the billionaire philanthropists and the World Health Organisation in their quest to depopulate and conquer the earth.
Regardless of what your views on Covid-19 are, one will always be able to find the sources to support one’s arguments. However, what I found disappointing is how dismissive certain individuals have become. Arguments from those who embraced the dominant narrative include ‘I would be wary of anyone who doesn’t think Covid-19 is serious’, or ‘You obviously have not seen what I have seen’ (an unassailable medical argument), and ‘It is against the law to promote fake news about the epidemic, you should only get your information from trusted sources such as the national media’. Whereas the ‘conspiracy theorists’ will respond with answers such as, ‘There are far too many coincidences for this to be a pandemic’ (often quoting Event 201 and the Rockefeller ‘Lockstep’ document), and ‘The medical institutes and national media covering the Covid-19 pandemic have links with the philanthropist foundations.’ I will probably get a lot of flak for this but isn’t the human thing to do during these extremely traumatic times simply to listen to others no matter how ridiculous their thoughts are? All of us have our own demons to conquer, and what we are feeling right now is intrinsically linked with our own anxiety and past experiences, hence this is all deeply personal. I have colleagues who are terrified of going back to work when school resumes, and at the same time, I also know people who are not afraid of the virus. But I am not going to reprimand these individuals when they are two centimetres outside their social distancing perimeter when I am waiting in line to do my grocery shopping. At the same, I can only be supportive and continue to convey the message of hope and safety to everyone else during these uncertain times.
I have always found it interesting that what constitutes expertise as well as the clarity of thought is often directly linked with the reputation of an institute and its country of origin. For example, a medical doctor working for a first-world medical establishment will always be considered as better qualified than a doctor living in a third-world country with his/her own private practice. Western art music, due to its heritage and traditions, is full of what can be described as ‘gatekeepers’: musicians, teachers and critics (though not necessarily in that order) who are convinced that theirs is the definitive way of playing the piano and musical interpretation. I often get the impression that part of this has to do with privilege as well as pride: ‘I studied with A, who was the student of AB, who studied with ABC, who is the neighbour of ABCD, who was responsible for feeding the stray cat who wanders around Beethoven’s apartment, which in turn makes me a direct link to Ludwig himself!’ (Jokes aside, one often feels obliged to convey a worthwhile message learnt from one’s teacher to the next generation). Doubtless many of us will remember Wanda Landowska’s closing remarks to a talented young pianist, ‘Very well, my dear, you play Bach your way, I’ll play Bach his way!’. Without intending any form of disrespect towards Madame Landowska, I doubt even she had ‘the hotline to Bach’, as legendary South African piano teacher Laura Searle used to put it.
I came across an interview not so long ago by an eminent pianist of the twentieth century (another one of my musical idols) talking about the differences between Classical and Romantic music. The pianist went on to say the following:
There are certain devices that one uses in Romantic music that are appropriate only for Romantic or subsequent music. If you take those devices and apply them to earlier music, then it’s totally inappropriate, and it makes the Classical music sound silly. However, if you were to use what you might call ‘Classical devices’ on Romantic music, historically, that would be correct!
In my humble opinion the difference between the interpretation of Classical and Romantic music has much less to do with the ‘devices’ (in using such a term I suspect the pianist was talking about rhythmic organisation). I strongly feel that the difference between how we approach Classical and Romantic Music lies in our sense of musical objectivity. This is because the musical ideals of the Classical style were intrinsically linked with the Age of Enlightenment, with its emphasis on logic and the rational. In Classical music this is translated into balance and structure, as well as the beauty and clarity of melodic line. Being a virtuoso during Mozart’s lifetime had little to do with thundering double octaves and brute fffs, but rather with beautifully shaped semiquavers passages. The Romantic movement is a reaction against the hegemony of reason central to the Enlightenment. In art and music, Romanticism shifts the emphasis from structural objectives to the realm of emotional subjectivity, at the same time placing the individual as a focal point in the creation of an artwork. In short, the performer now has more musical licence for rubato, as well as for injecting his/her personality into the performance. I recall one of my teachers telling me that rubato in Mozart is on ‘a knife edge’, you are either right or you are wrong, whereas rubato in Liszt is more of a ‘grey’ area. While I wholeheartedly agree that nothing is more hideous than Mozart being played in the Romantic style: lots of Sturm und Drang, long pedals across bars, variation in tempi as well as the ‘splitting of the hands’ – a quintessential Romantic gesture found in the performance of Chopin, Schumann and the late Romantics. I also cannot imagine Liszt and Rachmaninoff performed ‘classically’: with little, if any, tempo fluctuation and understatement of all the dynamics, topped off with a hygienically precise execution. Music is a living, breathing entity, it is also a reflection of humanity, flawed, unique and unapologetically beautiful. I am not saying for one second that we should disrespect the stylistic parameters of musical performance that have been passed down for generations, but I find many of the mainstream musical narrative somewhat troubling because there will always be exceptions to the rules, just like there are exceptions when it comes to individual performances. While I am far from convinced with the musical interpretations of pianists such as Glenn Gould and Ivo Pogorelich (it must be said that some of the rationale behind some of Gould’s more eccentric recordings – such as the Mozart Sonata in A Major K331, has more to do with the pianist’s own sense of anxiety more than anything else), I also think it is unfair to dismiss them as charlatans or musical quacks. I may not be Pogorelich’s biggest fan with regards to the pianist’s comeback performances, but at the same time I pay him the compliment of treating him as a human being and a musician; the very least I can do is to listen. And even though I might not like what I hear, Pogorelich is still entitled to his musical opinions. By the same token, I don’t think Pogorelich himself will approve of many of my own performances! However, one sometimes comes across a musical interpretation that has absolutely no regards for the musical text or what the composer wants, and that is when I get immensely annoyed. I recently came across a YouTube performance of the ‘Wanderer’ Fantasy at [at least] a quarter of Schubert’s tempo marking. My initial reaction was that this must be a joke; sadly it wasn’t, and if it was, I have obviously missed the punchline. I will never forget my composition teacher telling me the following when I was a wide-eyed teenager: “Michael, if you want to be loved, don’t become a musician.” He is right of course, musical interpretation is full of subjectivity and no matter how competent you are, there will always be someone somewhere in the universe who will find fault with what you do. At the end of the day, I truly believe that if you are a trained musician, and you approach the music that you play with humility, intelligence and heart, then you will be able to do it justice. Whether or not your interpretation is ‘in line’ with the mainstream musical narrative, does it really matter if the gatekeepers don’t like what you have to say?
I want to finish this article by referencing a movie my wife and I enjoyed during the lockdown, Jojo Rabbit. Directed by Taika Waititi’s and based on Christine Leunens’s 2008 book Caging Skies, the film is set towards the end of World War II and centres around the everyday lives and the imaginary world of Johannes ‘Jojo’ Betzler, an innocent but heavily indoctrinated ten-year-old German boy who dreams of becoming a Nazi and fighting for the Third Reich (Jojo’s make-believe world is symbolised by his interactions with an extremely supportive and immensely entertaining ‘Adolf Hitler’, played by the director himself). Jojo’s world starts to fall apart when he discovers that a Jewish girl, Elsa Korr, has been secretly living within the walls of his house and it doesn’t take the two protagonists long to strike up a friendship. As Jojo develops feelings for Elsa, he begins to question his own beliefs before realising that ultimately, it is love and ‘butterflies in the stomach’ that prevail, especially during traumatic and uncertain times. As the world slowly emerges from the Covid-19 pandemic, I would like to think that this momentary pause in time gave all of us a chance to reassess our lives and how we go about doing certain things. The world may not be a perfect, yet it is the only one that we have. Life can often be a struggle, but all of us who are here on earth have been given a wonderful opportunity to make something of it: live it, embrace it, love it, and if you can, play some music on the way, and perhaps take a leaf from Jojo and Elsa’s book – dance to it.
Dr Michael Low, May 2020
As a teenager, Michael studied piano under the guidance of Richard Frostick before enrolling in London’s prestigious Centre for Young Musicians, where he studied composition with the English composer Julian Grant, and piano with the internationally acclaimed pedagogue Graham Fitch. During his studies at Surrey University in England, Michael made his debut playing Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto in the 1999 Guildford International Music Festival, before graduating with Honours under the tutelage of Clive Williamson. In 2000, Michael obtained his Masters in Music (also from Surrey University), specialising in music criticism, studio production and solo performance under Nils Franke.
An international scholarship brought Michael to the University of Cape Town, where he resumed his studies with Graham Fitch. During this time, Michael was invited to perform Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto for The Penang Governer’s Birthday Celebration Gala Concert. In 2009, Michael obtained his Doctorate in Music from the University of Cape Town under the supervision of South Africa greatest living composer, Hendrik Hofmeyr. His thesis set out to explore the Influence of Romanticism on the Evolution of Liszt’s Transcendental Etudes.
In 2013, Michael started a project in Singapore collaborating with The Kawai School Elite in a series of masterclasses and workshops for teachers and students. Having grown up in the East and lived his life in the West, Michael believes that both cultures has much to offer and envisage an exchange between Singapore and Cape Town in the future. In 2019 Michael was also invited to Taipei for a series of Masterclasses and workshops.
Michael is also the co-founder of the Elvira Ensemble – a Classical Chamber Orchestra specialising in the Piano Concertos of Mozart and Beethoven as well as Soundtracks from Blockbuster Hollywood Movies. The Ensemble have given performances at several high-profile events such as the wedding of Justin Snaith, one of South Africa’s leading race-horse trainer. In January 2020, the ensemble was engaged to perform at the wedding of the former Miss Universe and Miss South Africa, Miss Demi-Leigh Nel Peters.
Michael has also worked with numerous eminent teachers and pianists, including Nina Svetlanova, Niel Immelman, Frank Heneghan, James Gibb, Phillip Fowke, Renna Kellaway, Carolina Oltsmann, Florian Uhlig, Gordon Fergus Thompson, Francois du Toit and Helena van Heerden.
Michael currently holds teaching positions in two of Cape Town’s exclusive education centres: Western Province Preparatory School and Herschel School for Girls. He is very much sought after as a passionate educator of young children.
The expression “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach” does a great disservice to teachers everywhere. In the sphere of music, teaching is often regarded as a “second best” option for those who have trained as performers, yet for anyone who has encountered a great music teacher, it is evident that this is a highly-skilled profession, requiring many hours of training and commitment.
The sad thing is that so many young musicians go through the conservatoire or music college training, being taught how to be performers, yet very few of them will be able to make a living solely by performing and concertising. Concert fees hardly take into account the many hours of preparation, and only those at the very top of the profession can command the highest fees. Nor do positions in orchestras pay particularly well. Thus, many musicians turn to teaching as a way of securing a regular income.
A common misconception is that if you are a great performing artist, you must, by default, also be a great teacher, but the two things do not necessarily go hand in hand. While both activities are about communication, teaching is about communicating the techniques and artistry of playing music largely through the medium of the spoken word and physical demonstration. The best teachers can articulate the complexities of playing an instrument in simple terms, demystifying aspects of technique, for example, through the use of metaphor or imagery. Good teachers are also highly adaptable for they appreciate that there is no “one size fits all” approach and that each student must be treated as an individual.
Those fortunate enough to study with some of the great teacher-pianists, who have themselves studied with great teacher-pianists of another era, enjoy a special connection to these earlier teachers and mentors. These generational connections create a tremendous sense of continuity, and this musical ‘provenance’ is invaluable and inspiring when one is learning. Several of my colleagues (both international concert pianists) studied with the acclaimed British pianist and teacher Phyllis Sellick, whose “musical ancestry” included Isidor Philipp, who himself was taught by Georges Mathias, a pupil of Chopin and Kalkbrenner. Such teachers can act as a link to the past, passing on the wisdom handed down from these earlier, great teachers, and enriching one’s experience of previous performers and performances.
Sadly, private music teaching is too often regarded by those outside the profession as “not a proper job”, or a “hobby job” by people who do not appreciate the many hours of preparation and dedication required to teach music. In addition to time spent with students, teachers must plan lessons and take care of the admin of running a teaching practice, including setting and collecting fees, and engaging in ongoing professional development to ensure one remains in touch with current practices and theories.
Teaching is an ongoing learning process in itself: the best teachers are often the most receptive too, and their relationships with their students is less didactic tutor, more mentor and guide. The best teachers are respectful and unselfish, appreciating that students do move on, perhaps to further study at music college or into a professional career, or simply to another teacher to gain a different perspective on their musical studies. Above all, the best teachers care deeply about music and want to encourage and share this love with their students.
This is the fifth book by acclaimed Scottish pianist Susan Tomes, and unlike her previous books whose primary focus is on the exigencies of life as a professional musician – from ensemble playing and touring, coughers in the audience to concert attire, or dealing with reviews – this latest volume is a series of reflections on learning and teaching.
At a time when music education is under serious threat, at least in the UK’s state schools, Speaking the Piano is in part a paean to the wonderful teachers Susan herself has studied with, including the renowned Hungarian piano professor, Gyorgy Sebok, a celebration of teaching and learning, and a heartfelt plea to retain music education as part of the school curriculum.
My own musical education, acquired internationally and continuing well into adult life, was a fascinating experience. It had an impact on me and my approach to life far beyond the arena of music. As time went by I began to teach the next generation of musicians, and found that the experience of teaching was as fascinating as the experience of learning.
– Susan Tomes
The book is divided into two sections, Teaching and Learning, and in the first section, Tomes draws on her experience as both a performer and teacher as well as her interactions with adult amateur pianists in the Piano Club which she recently established. Her wisdom is evident on every page and her writing is, as always, eloquent and intelligent, but never didactic. She is sensitive to the difficulties faced by many adult amateur pianists – and even some professionals too – in areas such as anxiety, harnessing the imagination, notation and reading music, understanding tempo and dynamics (not only physical but also psychological aspects of interpreting these markings), gestures and movement at the instrument, and myriad other issues, large and small, which face pianists and musicians in general whenever they go to play the music. She writes with honesty and clarity, using her own experiences as a student and teacher as the basis for sympathetic advice and guidance, and one has the sense throughout that she firmly believes in lifelong learning and that a teacher should always be adaptable and open to new insights and ideas, which may come unexpectedly from interactions with students. The book also celebrates the passion and commitment of the amateur pianist and gives encouragement to those who may find learning the piano at once wonderful and also frustrating.
The second part of the book on learning offers longer essays on the masterclass experience (good and bad), the wonders of jazz improvisation, and different genres of music. The final chapter – ‘Music Lights Up the Brain’ – discusses the pleasure of music, and the process of studying and learning music, the skills required to become proficient, and how teaching music performance at a high level (for example, in conservatoire) is a highly specialized art. Tomes also touches on scientific research into the benefits of playing a musical instrument and how learning music in school encourages children to develop self-confidence, cooperation, creativity and collaboration, and ends with a plea to “kindle a fire which will light the young musician’s path as they set out on their own journey of discovery”.
An engaging and engrossing read for music teachers, musicians and music lovers alike.
Renowned educator, writer and clarinetist Paul Harris, author of innumerable books on sight-reading, music theory and music teaching as well as original compositions, led a seminar based around the ideas set out in his seminal book T’he Virtuoso Teacher’ (Faber, 2012).
The book focuses on the core issues of being a teacher and the teaching process. By examining topics such as self-awareness and the importance of emotional intelligence, getting the best out of pupils, dealing with challenging pupils, asking the right questions and creating a master-plan taking the stress out of learning teaching for the right reasons, Paul Harris offers an inspirational and supportive read for all music teachers, encouraging everyone to consider themselves in a new and uplifted light. The book formed the basis of Paul’s presentation, with plenty of opportunities for discussion during the breaks and in a Q&A session at the end of the seminar. I read Paul’s book when it was first published and found it very empowering, yet much of what he suggests is both simple and easy to put into practice in the teaching environment.
These are my notes taken during the seminar; by no means comprehensive, I hope they will provide a useful overview of Paul’s approach and the philosophy of the Virtuoso Teacher.
Definition of a ‘Virtuoso Teacher’
Not someone who teaches virtuosi
Nor a virtuoso player themselves (as Paul said, virtuoso players may be fine instrumentalists, but are not necessarily the best teachers)
A virtuoso teacher takes teaching to a virtuoso level through being collaborative, imaginative, engaging, non-judgmental and energetic.
Just as a virtuoso performer has qualities such as a sense of communication, secure technique, and a sense of artistry so the virtuoso teacher has the same qualities. But instead of playing to an audience, the virtuoso teacher works with students.
The virtuoso teacher has a heightened awareness of what is happening, is mindful, has a profound understanding of the instrument, technique, musicality and a deep knowledge of our pupils. The virtuoso teacher encourages pupils to reach their own infinite potential.
WHAT WE DO
The special things….
Teach music for its own sake
Guide pupils
Show possibilities
Open minds
Enable pupils to become independent learners and teach themselves
The word “teach” comes from the Old English world tæcan (“tee-shan”) meaning to “show”, or “point out”, but not “tell”.
The virtuoso teacher does more than teaching the instrument and pieces: the virtuoso teacher encourage pupils to really know music and enable all pupils to achieve, taking into account the needs and desires of all our pupils.
For the virtuoso teacher the process is more important than the outcome (i.e. exam or competition results, assessments or performances, all of which are stressful situations and which lose the enjoyment of “now”). For the pupil, learning to play an instrument or sing should be a happy experience. Unhappy or stressed students don’t learn (physiologically, the brain stops releasing hormones which enable us to take in information when we are stressed). We develop our pupils’ self-responsibility and turn mistakes into opportunities. We share our love of music and encourage our students to develop this love too. We make our students confident and independent.
Personal qualities of a Virtuoso Teacher
An excellent communicator
Certain, but never absolutely sure
Open-minded
Adaptable and flexible
Still learning
Focused (on the pupil)
A good role model
Good-humoured
Patient
Proactive
Innovative
Having good judgment, but never judgmental
Kind and caring
Reflective
How we teach
The “process” of the lesson
Warming up (e.g. stretches away from the instrument or use an aspect of the first piece as a warm up exercise)
Find ingredients and connections within the piece
Offer achievable, well-explained instructions (done well, this is unlikely to lead to mistakes, or will reduce mistakes)
Give well-expressed, clear feedback
Ensure the lesson is energising and always moving forward
When giving feedback, first wait and then notice the way the pupil reacts to the feedback. Positive feedback motivates and allows us to be effective because it empowers the pupil. We need to nurture, not control. As a result, pupils are
Confident
Happy
Enthusiastic
Motivated
In sum, the “virtuoso pupil” knows how to learn.
Dispelling the “myth of difficult”
Learning how to achieve
Removing obstacles
Encourage through a thorough and meticulous approach
The quality of our students’ understanding is better than the quantity of their work.
High-satisfaction teaching allows the lesson to flow and for pupils to be musical. They will also make fewer mistakes, feel less stress, feel less constrained by structure, which allows them to achieve. Lessons become positive with a spirit of discovery.
Simultaneous learning and simultaneous practising:
Teaching proactively
Making connections using the “ingredients” of the piece
Positive
Non-judgmental
Pupils need to practise in a way which matches this
Integration – refer to practising during the lesson
Representation – make practising interesting and engaging
Connections – ask how the practising went in the intervening week between lessons
This enables pupils to see how lessons and practising join up.
Teaching a new piece using the Simultaneous Learning process
Know the ingredients of the piece:
Key
Rhythm
Pulse
Time signature
Dynamics
Character
Don’t overload the pupil with information but know how much the pupil can take in.
Allow the lesson to unfold around the ingredients using various element, e.g. improvisation based on a rhythm or short motif within the piece.
Use Q&A and demonstration. Talk about practising as you go along. Practising should be fun, engaging and collaborative.
Don’t hurry
Make connections
Empower the student
Check the student has understood all the instructions given
Teach the right things at the right time
Be imaginative
Encourage flow
Collaboration
Encourage students to know their music
Encourage students to become independent
WHO WE TEACH
We need to get to know our pupils (but never interrogate them!)
Interests
Prior learning/knowledge
Vocabulary (important – so that we can communicate with them at the right level)
Preferred learning style, i.e. visual, auditory or kinesthetic
Gender difference
Relative speed of learning
Level of motivation
Expectations (pupil’s and parents’)
Psychomotor skills (e.g. finger dexterity)
SEN
R/L brain development
Experience and background
Maturity
Parental involvement
Having this information allows us to personalize our teaching to be more effective.
Managing expectations
We live up and down to expectations (the ‘Pygmalion Effect’)
“As the teacher believes the student to be, so the student becomes” (Rosenthal & Jacobson)
We should have high but appropriate expectations and the student will live up to them.
We have different expectations for different students
Don’t base expectations on pre-determined criteria (e.g. exam results)
Don’t compare students, especially negatively
Discourage pupils from comparing themselves to their friends/peers – explain to a Grade 1 student that the Grade 7 student is not “better”, just “more advanced”
Focus on achievement rather than attainment: pupils can achieve continuously
Encourage self-comparison: “How am I doing?”
Encourage students to hear friends playing in a positive context: peer support is very important.
Celebrate every student’s strengths
Have positive and appropriate expectations
Create a positive teaching environment
Labels are not helpful – there are no “bad” pupils! (but there are plenty of bad teachers!)
All pupils are able – different, but able
Giving praise
It needs to be appropriate and appreciative. Judgmental praise causes dependency and builds up an ego which can produce anxiety
Examples of appreciative praise:
“I enjoyed that”
“that was really accurate/musical”
“That practise has really made a difference”
This allows pupils to draw their own conclusions about their playing
Praise what they are doing or their effort, not the ego or talent.
Praise followed by criticism is not helpful.
Sincere praise goes a long way and creates a sense of trust.
Using questions in lessons
Good questioning is very valuable and can be used to
Check knowledge and understanding
Encourage understanding
Encourage recall of facts and information
Diagnose difficulties and involve the pupil in the “cure” (e.g. tension, problematic fingering scheme etc)
Questions also encourage students to think, engage, apply and reflect. Use open-ended, thought-provoking questions, e.g. “What do you like about this piece?”
Getting the best out of our pupils
The way we are and how we respond to our pupils
The way we manage expectations (of pupils and parents)
The care we invest in teaching methods
The level of positivity and love of our subject
Ensuring pupils understand what they are doing
In conclusion
Our values and beliefs colour the way we are and drive our thinking and teaching. We should be certain, but never absolutely certain, and we should always look outwards.
The present
The Power of Now
Living in the moment
Grasp opportunities and run with them, while always keeping an eye on the future
Using aspects such as applied psychology and physiology (e.g. understanding the reasons for warming up before playing), and using technology to enhance our teaching (e.g. internet, apps).
Teaching now
Teach laterally and holistically
Be proactive
Take care of our personal accountability
Make connections
Understand and appreciate what our pupils need
Use wisdom – how do we use our knowledge? We guide our pupils to enable them to progress.
Be honest (i.e. honest evaluation of our students, and in our dealings with parents)
Have courage – take risks and be prepared to tackle issues
Give our students our unconditional support
The Virtuoso Teacher wants to create well-balanced musicians who are driven by a love of music and a desire to sustain this great art.
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