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Guest post by Jill Timmons

These days we hear a lot about the allure of talent: gifted, extraordinary, special, something extra, blessed, graced, anointed, enviable. And as we know, the arts have been a particular repository for dazzling talent display.

Talent can be a kind of entry card. In music and dance we have such iconic artists as Arthur Rubinstein, Jascha Heifetz, Rudolf Nureyev, Margot Fonteyn, Taylor Swift, Fred Astaire, and the list goes on. There is a near religious fervour surrounding these folks who are perpetually confined to an archetypal pedestal – heroic figures living in a rarified alternate universe on Mount Olympus. To the lay person, it can seem almost magical that fame and fortune are readily available to those with exceptional talent. Often, there is a special entitlement afforded to these luminaries, and it may appear that with a bit of talent, we could all partake of these benefits. For some, there is the belief that talent alone should offer some measure of reward, a kind of requisite entitlement. Therein lies the shadow side of talent: acquiring something without the necessary earning of it.

As an artist, I stumble over the recognition of my own talent. To say that I am gifted strikes a difficult chord, so to speak. It feels like self-aggrandizement, ego inflation, and entitlement. Yet, if I don’t recognize my talent in an authentic and detached fashion, dare I say strategic, I would not be able to serve my gifts, perhaps my mission, and a sense of meaning and purpose to my life – making things better in the world through music. It’s a reminder, that the arts often contain paradox – two things can be true. I’m reminded of M. C. Escher’s lithographs where stairs simultaneously ascend and descend!

It is difficult to explain that talent and work go hand in hand. There can often be a disconnect (entitlement) between the temporal reality of musical study and the concrete requirements for what one may wish to achieve. As I regularly remind my students, there is no cramming for the concert, or for serious artistic growth. It’s a kind of marathon, and you wouldn’t just train for a few hours on Saturdays to take on those twenty-six miles!

Artists are individuals with varying skills and proclivities. While I might be a quick sight reader, it took me several months to learn J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Moreover, it wasn’t until I had performed it 6 times, that I really set to work! I had to marshal all my patience through this process, even with decades behind me as a professional pianist (perhaps some free-floating entitlement here!). These concepts are difficult to convey when entitlement is at play.

Add to this the fact that mostly our elementary and secondary education systems are now reduced to teaching to the test (reading and maths), and there is very little space in the curriculum for the arts, the creative process, and the fundamental human act of original thought. The notion of talent becomes a kind of bromide instead. Very little may be required to be considered talented. With that comes the risk of instant gratification, the dumbing down of quality and artistry, and a core understanding about what the arts require and what they can offer humanity.

Case in point: church music. This is by no means a declaration of any sort of religious affiliation. Consider, however, some of the greatest musical works from western European art music created by the likes of J. S. Bach, Mozart, Schubert, Bernstein (the Mass), Fauré, Poulenc, Elgar, and so forth. While there are still places where you can hear this exalted and compelling music, much of the American protestant church has withered into a kind of musical pablum: two chord changes with Jesus words. It doesn’t take much to master the ability to perform this music, nor does it require from the listener any level of artistic sophistication. It’s satisfying much in the same way as a bowl of Doritos. Oddly enough, many of the folks who deliver this music are often hailed as very talented.

For those of us who are educators, we can often encounter in our students that shadowy world of entitlement. It’s not just with the children we teach, but adult students as well. I recall one client who was a physician by profession. He had always wanted to play the piano at the advanced level, and so after reading Malcolm Gladwell’s edgy book, ‘Outliers: The Story of Success’, he asked me if after 10,000 hours of practice he could play one of the Chopin Ballades. Meanwhile, he was struggling with an early intermediate-level Haydn Sonata. Nonetheless, I lauded his efforts, and reminded him that the development of technic and musical capacity takes time – its own time, and that his responsibility would be to practice intelligently and regularly with a goodly amount based upon his goals, to follow my instruction, and to remember the long game. His sense of entitlement, however, overrode what I had hoped would be a gentle yet pointed reality check. He assumed that since he had weekly lessons, he was highly intelligent and disciplined, was committed to those 10,000 hours, and that in working with me he was entitled to have access to the advanced repertoire through some sort of short cut. Sadly, that sense of entitlement prevented him from serving his talent, of making a strategic plan in his practicing and study, honestly assessing his challenges along with his achievements, and trusting that together, he and I could move the cause forward. It would, however, require the long game as it does for most of us.

With young students, the struggle is more systemic. Parents are often driving their children to overload their schedules: A’s in everything, numerous sports, extra curriculars that might be the ticket to getting into Harvard or Oxford, and a schedule with every hour accounted for. Where is the time to daydream, to imagine, to create something original? Who will teach them the value and efficacy of this? Where is the education for the sublime, for beauty, for the inherent power of the arts to uplift humanity? How do they discover their own gifts, and more importantly how do they humbly serve music? How can they become inner directed, avoiding the distractions, the pressures to conform, and the seductions and misinformation that float around in the outer world?

Nurturing one’s talents takes time, commitment, appropriate education, inspiring and skilled mentors, confidence, patience, a keen work ethic, self-reflection, humility, and the long view. Moreover, one must acquire the ability to be ruthlessly honest about one’s work. What are my strengths? How can I build upon those? What led me to fluency in a performance? Conversely, what are the barriers to my progress? What blind spots do I have? Am I open to learning new things? Is my practice time allotment sufficient and effective for my goals? By the way, my definition of practicing is rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges. If you are not rehearsing solutions, what is it that you are drilling? Never mind those 10,000 hours! Can you measure yourself by what you strengthen in your own work? One can learn a great deal from mastering a new capacity! What is your artist vision and is it undergirded by a searingly honest and doable plan?

No matter how brilliant a mind, there will be a substantial, regular time commitment required if one is to develop artistry. For example, with musicians, the development of technic can take many years. I may dream of playing Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata, but without the necessary technique, a grounding in historical performance practice, and a willingness to musically serve that style period, it will remain aspirational. No amount of will, talent, or entitlement will achieve that objective. Ask the artists at the top of the industry and they will regale you with stories of decades of practice, study, self-reflection, perseverance, sacrifice, challenges, luck, and yes, the long game.

So, in moving forward, how do we eschew entitlement in our own artistic work and that of our students? It may be that the way out is through. That Zen saying speaks volumes about the process required. In my own teaching, I have observed that when a student really wants to achieve something, they are apt to work for it if they can lift the veil of entitlement. It’s what I call concrete teaching. It’s a black and white approach (no pun intended) with weekly achievable goals, a constant check-in on reality, and that ruthless honestly. We ask our students as to how practicing is going? What is the quality of one’s practice time? Is it sufficient? Are we rehearsing solutions to musical and technical challenges? Are our musical goals congruent with our skills and time available? Needless to say, these points of practice apply equally to our own artistic work.

Moreover, all musical compositions have dues that one must pay in order to master fluency. It is relative to one’s skill and experience of course. The more experience you have, the more accurately you can assess the work ahead that is required. Back to the Goldberg Variations.

When I received an invitation to perform it, I had a year to prepare. I figured I could learn it in roughly three months with three to four hours of practice most days. I had other performances and professional tasks, but that time frame seemed appropriate. Wrong. It took me five months to learn it, during which time I had the flu, was preparing to move, and received a contract to write a book. Needless to say, I learned a great deal from that experience. Clearly, one’s musical skills and capacity are realized by the amount of time needed in order to learn a piece of music. This measurable and temporal reality may be your greatest weapon in combating entitlement: yours, or your students!

Speaking of students, the overarching concern that most music educators harbor is usually with sufficient and regular practice for their pupils. Moreover, that practice time must be informed, efficient, and consequential. As most of us know, many hours can be spent at the piano, even 10,000 hours, but there must be conscious awareness of how one is practicing. In those hours of practice, ideally, we become our own best teacher, and we train our students to embrace this concept as well. Mindless, disengaged drill at the piano does not engender mastery. One tool, however, can move the cause forward. If your student is motivated and is not under the spell of entitlement, they can greatly benefit from what I call a “mock practice session.” I periodically take an entire lesson time (usually one to two hours) and guide the student in what constitutes effective practicing. I am experientially teaching the student how to practice effectively and efficiently. This session is recorded for the student to review between lessons. Often, the student discovers that in a short period of time a great deal can be achieved in learning the score. Moreover, I remind students that they can continue this exciting path to mastery if they practice like they did in the lesson!

Ultimately, whatever way we approach the nurturing of talent, we need adequate time. This can be challenging in our cluttered and distracted world. I still struggle with this every now and then. There are, however, myriad solutions. Time management is a powerful tool, especially if you can review your schedule on a weekly basis. You are in charge, after all. As a side bar, I highly recommend Cal Newport’s groundbreaking book, ‘Digital Minimalism’. You will find a wealth of information, advice, and strategies to remain artfully engaged in your environment, but not possessed or distracted by the endless commotion from the digital world.

Lastly, I will leave you with several thoughts. My sense of music making is that it is 80 percent work and 20 percent talent. And moreover, the making of that music is not about me. I am merely the vessel. But without me, fully present, humbly prepared, and devoted to the composer and audience, that music remains on the page. It is indeed a sacred mission. In the final analysis, there is no entitlement, only devotion to the highest level our talent can take us. Music then becomes an act of service.

Jill Timmons is a leading performing arts consultant, serving individuals and nonprofits. As an international artist-educator, her work is sculpted by the ever-changing global market. The second edition of her book The Musician’s Journey is published by Oxford University Press.

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Guest post by Katrina Fox

The pandemic has been a huge challenge for piano teachers, not least in the inherent isolation of learning the piano being exacerbated by the lack of opportunities for group work, duets in lessons, and of course live performance. However, necessity being the mother of invention, many of us have latched onto live digital performances and performance recordings as a way of creating performing opportunities and encouraging performance. This has become a permanent part of most teachers’ offerings.

Digital exams – love them or loathe them – are here to stay, and have incontrovertible benefits such as being accessible to all pupils, including nervous adults, those living in remote areas without easy access to an exam centre, and those who simply don’t ever want to endure a live examination experience but nonetheless value the feedback. Digital festivals and events have also provided pupils with a greater breadth of musical experiences from the awesome Compose Yourself! created by Alison Matthews and Lindsey Berwin, to June Armstrong’s Play for the Composer.

So what are the benefits to pupils and teachers of a carefully thought out programme of performance opportunities throughout the year?

  • Motivation to practise FOR something – and for something perhaps more meaningful than an exam. These experiences allow pupils greater choice in what they play, but still provide a goal to work towards. The fact that this goal is not a summative assessment – a pass/merit/distinction that despite being a mere snapshot can come to be worn as a proverbial badge of honour or dunce hat – makes it all the more valuable. Constructive criticism without a numerical mark or grading is perhaps more likely to be received without invoking defensive feelings and therefore internalised and acted upon.
  • A feeling of community. Within most teaching studios most pupils never or rarely meet each other. Everyone taking part in the same event – be it digital or live – can build a sense of community and common enterprise. During the lockdowns I hosted monthly Zoom concerts. Whilst the quality was not always ideal, there was a clear motivational and social benefit. Themed sessions such as “bring your pet”, “wear your PJs” etc, built a sense of fun and allowed pupils to see each other, albeit on screen.
  • A sense of shared responsibility. This year will be my second year doing an Advent “virtual busk”. Everyone records a Christmas song which we post every day of Advent to raise money for the local homeless hostel. (Last year we raised over £1500.) All pupils know they are expected to perform well for this; there is a sense of responsibility for everyone playing their part in this event. Yes, it is a small amount of pressure, but everyone is given plenty of time, and I feel a small amount of responsibility for ensuring they are all up to scratch is a positive thing and engenders a sense of responsibility.

So if all these benefits can be drawn from digital events, which are probably more easily accessible to teachers and pupils, then why bother with live events? One important benefit of live performance springs to mind:

Taking risks. With live performance, more so in front of an audience than in front of an examiner, the sense of personal risk is an important part of the experience. My personal experience is that pupils have become increasingly risk-averse over the last few years. The reasons are probably outside the scope of this article, but perhaps reside in our education system and its focus on testing, results and “success”. I find many pupils are inclined to avoid trying rather than to risk making a mistake, especially in public. This affects their ability to communicate through their music and invest it with their own personal involvement. I’m sure we can all agree that this is not a healthy or happy mindset. Live performance in festivals seems to be a varied experience with some finding the atmosphere friendly, while others find it very competitive – perhaps not the ideal place for nervous, or dare I say it “average” performers?

It is this last point that has been bothered me sufficiently to galvanise me into action. Certainly, where I live on the south coast of England there is not a wealth of local, accessible music festivals and performance events for pupils to participate in. There is also a real lack of suitable venues with decent instruments that are affordable and available at appropriate times. All my pupil “concerts” thus far have been very tiny occasions hosted in my home for a small handful of pupils at a time. Larger, less local occasions tend not to appeal to any but the most serious students.

Hence the creation of Play Piano South – one of a handful of local piano groups that has sprung up in recent months, each with its own character, aims and events that are suited to its local profile. My vision for Play Piano South is local informal live events that pupils can participate in regularly such that performing becomes a natural and non-threatening part of their piano education. Removing any form of competition, grading and adjudication makes everything easier to administrate. It also removes the threat of judgement, allowing young pianists the freedom to focus purely on the performance experience itself, without any formal “outcome”. Mistakes due to nerves, or any other reason, can be left behind without consequence and processed appropriately and proportionately with a view to improving the experience, without the pressure to improve a grading or mark.

The Play Piano South Facebook group acts as a meeting place for teachers in the region to share their events – either for other teacher’s pupils to attend, or just to showcase their events for others to learn from. Collaborative events allow teachers to share the burden of organising and hosting an event and can make a decent venue with a good instrument more feasible as more pupils can attend and share the cost of hire. Such a model also allows a regular performance schedule to grow that is very local and easy for pupils to attend. I believe this regularity and sense of community will make performing become a natural and integral part of learning the piano for all pupils – not just the most gifted or well-resourced.

In my own studio, my pupils will continue to benefit from the many new and wonderful digital performance initiatives that have developed during the pandemic. These will be complemented by a regular programme of informal concerts which will be open to the pupils of any other teachers who wish to participate.

Do check out the Play Piano South Facebook group and get involved!

Katrina Fox is a piano teacher in Bournemouth (bhpiano.co.uk), and the founder of Piano Hub South

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How long have you been playing the piano?

As an adult, I spent 2 years with a jazz teacher and a few additional months working with a singer-songwriter. During this period I had no classical piano training, preferring instead to focus on jazz harmony and song-writing. However, I did play a lot of scales and arpeggios, some quite creative (modes, chord-scale theory etc.) At the end of this period of rather ad-hoc and chaotic learning, I felt I could play the piano (just) but now realised that I did need to find a ‘real’ piano teacher. Technique. And I did. She diagnosed me as ‘perhaps G5’ and suggested we work together to push to G6 and G7 with all due haste. I did, but it was a lot of work. Too much, I feel. Piano coordination does not come naturally to me. Before I say more, let me explain that, as a child, I did play a little. Maybe got to G3, but my ‘gap’ and return to the piano is the ever-present chasm of forty-five years! I am, therefore, the proverbial ‘very late returning’ adult pianist. I left a lucrative career to pursue the bewitching instrument and I am only too well aware of what I call my narrowing ‘window of opportunity’. The clock is ticking. I certainly need to make more progress over the next year or two. The last eighteen months has not been easy, what with the pandemic. I chose not to do ‘zoom’ lessons. That was probably a mistake. And, to make matters worse, I suffered a cycling accident pre-pandemic, just as things were coming together for me. I was unable to play for a year. This lost time led to a loss of skills which then had to be hard-won all over again. My surgeon called it ‘retraining’. At this point I nearly lost the will to continue.

What attracted you to the piano?

Harmony. Overtones. Resonance. And dissonance. I simply love the sound. Always have; always will. The instrument is wide open to composition and improvisation. As a child, our modest upright was more an object of curiosity, an engineering marvel, than it was a musical instrument. I remember the occasions when I removed the front panel and watched, fascinated, as the hammers and levers, pecking and bobbing like birds at the taut strings, moved in synchronisation with my fingers. I was not playing the piano, I was performing a physics experiment. It was a laboratory demonstration accompanied by a cacophony of dissonance, shifting and dancing in time with the intricate mechanism. Had our piano been a musical box or fairground automaton, I suspect I would have been equally satisfied just studying its movements for hours on end in an attempt to discern its inner workings. But out of these naïve experiments came my first embryonic compositions. Some of these teenage pretensions were so complex I could hardly play them. My young mind was racing ahead, my fingers less so. And school (and my natural ability with ‘making’ and fascination with electronics) was steering me in a different direction. A career in computing during the 80s and 90s took over, and real life (children, family) intervened. Here I am, forty-five years later, regretting I had not stuck at the awkward childhood piano lessons my parents had funded. For me, the sounds and the music itself has always been the draw.

What kind of repertoire do you enjoy playing, and listening to?

I want to play the impressionists, Debussy, Poulenc, Ravel. Also Delius. But let me be clear, it’s the harmony that attracts me. It is probably not a coincidence that these composers were influencing and influenced by the emergence of jazz. My return to the piano, if we can call it that, was not a planned or deliberate act. I was out shopping. It hit me like a brick. I simply had to play. I walked into a music shop and asked for a teacher. He happened to be a jazz musician. He fitted like a glove. And for anyone who thinks less of jazz than ‘classical’, think again. One of my heroes is Dave Grusin. I’ve love to be able to play his rich brew of harmonic shifts. And as I explore the ‘serious’ composers, I hear echoes of the jazz giants all the time. Even within today’s ‘cutting edge’ jazz scene. Ever heard of Sam Crowe of Native Dancer? To improvise like Sam would be a joy …. but I’d need to study a Phd in jazz harmony as pre-requisite, as indeed he has. So, for the time being my performances are rather more modest … but the harmony has to be there. I love Satie and intend to make a decent recording; if only for the family archive. And I keep tripping over cute pieces that contain echoes of the chords and colours I love so much. You know, dominant 13ths, flat 5ths, sharp 9ths, chords in 4ths, the tritone. An example: during G6 I played Petite Litancies De Jesus by Gabriel Grovlez. It’s simply lovely. And more recently I have found Giya Kanceheli. He wrote for film and stage. His collection entitled ‘Simple Music for Piano’ is gorgeous, and within my reach. Again, I intend to record.

Much of the ‘grade syllabus’ does not contain music I particularly like. But I have completed G7 including some Mozart and Schubert. I am on a journey. Bach will be there eventually, beyond the pair of 2-part inventions I managed along side my grade work.

How do you make the time to practice? Do you enjoy practising?

I am retired. I stood down from my career to focus on music. I have all the time in the world. Any limitation is energy – mental and focus. Had my accident not occurred, and had the pandemic not led governments to close our society and activities, I think I’d be further along. Now I have to find the renewal to restart and reenergise. I fear it won’t be easy.

Certain types of practice I enjoy. I am content to repeat exercises, scales, arpeggios and the many variations required of jazz. I am at my most uncomfortable during the early stages of tackling a new work. Sight reading is poor and I don’t know how to improve it. Coordination is also lacking, especially the left hand and arm. For me, practice is a conundrum. There is always this underlying feeling that one is doing the wrong things, or taking a sub-optimal approach. The clock ticks. Time is running out. At my age, the window of opportunity will eventually close, as certain as night follows day.

If you are taking piano lessons what do you find a) most enjoyable and b) most challenging about your lessons?

Time. Thirty minutes is too short. One hour is OK but I often need more. And even with the time I have available to practice, I don’t feel a weekly lesson is viable or appropriate. I would not have made sufficient progress before ‘next lesson’. So its typically every two weeks (interrupted by the pandemic of course.) As a ‘late returner’ and as I tackle the challenge of transitioning from early advanced to advanced, I value a teacher willing to enter into a discussion of my challenges beyond guidance on phrasing and articulation; to look ahead and be my guide. I feel that a lot of what limits me now is either psychological or in the cortex – biology, the brain slowing down. If I could just ‘hang out’ with a talented pianist for a few hours I feel I could learn a lot. But I am probably being naïve. Mostly its just graft that is required.

Have you taken any piano exams? What is your experience of taking music exams as an adult and what, in your opinion, are the benefits/challenges of doing so?

Yes. I took ABRSM G4 and G5 theory. Sitting in a room with 150 children was certainly an experience! And I have sat both G6 practical and G7 performance. Hated those video things. But I do intend to go further, hopefully quite a bit further. I find paying for others in any context intimidating and have written before about performance anxiety. Why do I subject myself to this? Partly discipline. Partly to measure progress. And partly just to be able to face the daemons. This is also why I joined a piano circle. [The lessons Howard learnt from his piano circle are documented here  and appears as an appendix to his book charting his adventures in music: Note For Note ]

Have you attended any piano courses? What have you gained from the experience?

I have. It was like going back to school. Wonderful. And to be around other pianists of all ages and abilities; inspiring; but also sobering. Summer school is, for me, a good substitute for my ultimate aim: to return to college to study music in some capacity: theory, composition or practical. But as I’ve found, the road is steep to get there and my current progress (and deficit of energy or focus sapped by the pandemic to be frank) is not a good indicator of success. Let’s just call it my ‘unrealistic aspiration’ and leave it there for the time being.

Do you perform? What do you enjoy/dislike about performing?

At the piano circle, yes. It’s a test. I want to play at a level that people enjoy listening. Despite my piano buddies kind words at each of my attempts, I know in my heart that I have achieved beauty on only a few occasions. I have no desire to inflict on anyone (friends or family let alone the ‘public’) an ‘amateurish’ performance (or worse). In many ways I am quite happy playing for myself. But I’d like to think that one day I will be able to genuinely move another human being with a performance of music I treasure … or have composed? Isn’t that the mark of a musician?

I did once write a love song for my wife, and two companion pieces. They were performed at a ‘living room concert’ for a large group of our friends. I played. My song-writing tutor sang. Musically it was a modest achievement; emotionally a roller-coaster. But I loved every minute of it and I believe the audience did also. I hope so.

What advice would you give to other adults who are considering taking up or returning to the piano?

Who am I to give advice, but here goes. Only embark on such a costly expedition if you are clear that it is what you need, and must do. For adult first-timers it is going to take significant dedicated time input over a sustained period. Little of this journey will be easy. Nor will it always be ‘fun’. Look to your teachers to show you the way but recognise that even they, with decades of experience, will not have all the answers you need. Explore. I found it necessary to wallow in a good deal of self-reflection during my time on what I call ‘the escalator’ (you cannot get off). The road ahead will be more than a little rocky. Find your own shock absorbers and escape pods. And whatever you do, try to avoid self-inflicted accidents and pandemics.

If you could play one piece, what would it be?

The second movement (Adagio assai) of the Piano Concerto in G by Maurice Ravel. With orchestra or with second piano acting as orchestra. I then believe I will have learned to play the piano.

N4NfrontcoverHoward Smith is the author of Note for Note, a “Pilgrim’s Progress” for the amateur pianist, charting his own piano journey – the pleasures and the pitfalls, the achievements and “lightbulb moments”. More information here

Howard  Smith (1957-) was born in England and grew up in Kent. An internationally recognised chief technologist and management consultant, he wrote his first computer programs at the age of fourteen before entering university to study physics. His landmark book (2003) Business Process Management: The Third Wave, generated over three hundred articles in the IT industry media, was an Amazon #1 best seller in five categories, reaching the top 200 of all books (including fiction) and was featured in the Harvard Business Review. In 2017, Howard decided to leave the computer industry he loved to pursue a new life in music. His latest book, Note For Note: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, tells the inspirational story of how he navigated his transition from the bits and bytes of the computer industry to the world of melody, harmony and musical performance.

Howard lives in Surrey, England, with his wife.

If you are an adult amateur pianist and would like to take part in the Piano Notes series, please download the PIANO NOTES adult pianist interview.

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Guest post by Javen Ling, founder of Alternate Tone Music School, Singapore

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“I do not have the potential to be a great pianist as I don’t have long, slender fingers”

Long, slender fingers do not necessarily make you a better pianist. While longer fingers may be an advantage in playing certain repertoire with large stretches, short, fat fingers are also an advantage when it comes to playing other music

Some of the world’s greatest pianists have small hands and stubby fingers. Instead of worrying about how your genetics have not provided you with your ideal fingers, start to work developing your technique and learn to accept your physical limitations. If a piece of music is not particularly well-suited to your hand, find a way to work around it. Every pianist eventually has to learn to live with their limitations and adapt to them.

Great pianists come in all shapes and sizes. There is no specific type of finger size or length that determines your potential.

“When I start learning a new piece, I should work from the beginning to the end”

Typically, most people will learn the piece from beginning to end and continuously practice until they can play the entire piece well. The problem with this method is having the discipline to push forward when music gets harder to play. As you approach a section that you’re unfamiliar with, you might be tempted to stray away from that and repeat the part in which you are comfortable with, rather than working on the difficult sections.

The most efficient way is to learn the most difficult sections first. This allows you to spend more time on the most difficult sections, rather than avoiding them or leaving them until later in your practicing. Thus when you start learning a new piece, scan through the composition, and determine which section/s appears the most difficult and start working on it first. As you become familiar with the harder section, you will tend to practice it more and under practice the easier sections.

“I don’t see any need to practice hands separately”

Professional pianists continue to practice hands separately even after playing a piece for 25 years or more! Many people are usually taught to practice hand separately first in order to reach their end goal of playing their hands together.

The benefit of practicing your hands separately is that you can focus on note-learning, technical sections and nuances of voicing and phrasing that might be overlooked if you practice hands together. So don’t forget about practicing separately once passed the initial phase of learning a passage. Use it as a tool to polish and improve your playing.

“Never look down at your hands when playing”

Most piano teachers encourage their students not to look at their hands. Firstly, this activity can slow down their learning, especially sight-reading skills as it inhibits them from looking ahead in the score. Secondly, students should not be too reliant on looking at their hands to find the right keys. Thirdly, the action of continually looking up at the sheet music and down at your hands can make you dizzy and might make it difficult to keep track of where you are at in the music.

An occasional glance down at the hands is PERFECTLY FINE. The trick is to not move your head too vigorously, but rather to just glance down at your hands quickly before looking back up at the sheet. By that I mean keeping your head perfectly still and just look down your nose at your hands. Lastly, of course, you should know the sequence of the keys well enough to locate them easily!

“I can easily learn the piano on my own”

With YouTube and Google, it is easy to pick up any skill via the Internet.

You can certainly teach yourself about music theory, history and techniques via the internet; however, a teacher’s experience is invaluable in helping you to improve your playing skills and technique, and advise you on common mistakes. In the long run, this will probably save you time and accelerate your learning.

Many people think that by taking piano lessons you have to go through graded piano exams. That is not the case. It really depends on what you are looking for. If you are interested in becoming a piano teacher or a piano professional, then it is advisable to take exams and diplomas. However, if you just want to learn for leisure, you don’t need to take exams and you can play repertoire which you enjoy, whether classical music, jazz or pop. Alternate Tone music school in Singapore specialises in teaching contemporary music and offers personalised lessons, which means you get to play your favourite music no matter what level you’re at!

If you’re still convinced you can get there without any professional help, that’s absolutely fine! There are many great and talented musicians who did not undergo any formal training. But in my opinion, the piano is definitely harder to learn on your own because of the structure of the instrument and its repertoire. If your goal is to play well, I definitely recommend having a good piano teacher to guide you through your piano studies.

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