Coming Back to Piano After a Long Break

Coming Back to Piano After a Long Break

 

Coming back to piano after a long break is refreshing, is exciting and, undoubtedly, is a brand new experience.

But in order to return to piano, something happens inside us. We felt the need to hear ourselves playing this marvellous instrument and we anticipate the warmth of the keys underneath our fingers. Everything is so refreshing getting back to our previous love.

But piano is like any other physical endeavour that requires conditioning. Conditioning of our bodies and mind — Yes, you read it right; we should condition both our bodies and our minds to withstand the rigours of practising. Because, let’s face it, in order to get back to piano we need to encounter this dreaded horror that is called “practising”. And where else to find the way to do practising properly and feel as guilty as possible at the same time other than in PianoPractising.com? Thank you for reading this article! (With a horrid smile on my fat face)

 

Condition of the bodies first

Now, I said we need to condition our minds and bodies. But what comes first? Is it the minds that we need to train, making them instruct our bodies properly? Or is it our bodies that will dictate our holistic approach to the piano through our minds? (I have no idea to be honest with you, but since this is a website that is edited by me, I should find the solution. Otherwise, how am I going to be considered an expert on the piano, even though I am far from it?) Let’s carry on.

We need to condition our bodies first — basically, we need to teach our hands and legs to get back doing the right thing once again. And we do it by starting our practising sessions slowly and deliberately. We start from scales (always). Just a couple of scales on our first few weeks of practising. We play them slowly. With the arpeggios. Really slowly. Our warming up should last for at least five to ten minutes before tackling any repertoire.

Also, even though the notion of coming-back-to-piano applies to all levels of pianists, more often than not, the ones to come back to the piano are not the professionals. The ones to return from a long break are us, the amateurs — the intermediate pianists. That means, Czerny 30, Duvernoy and even Beyer are in order. Those warming-up composers will reset our technique and make it last longer in our practising sessions. And, of course, those composers will get us ready to play the “actual” music; the music one plays in concerts. You wouldn’t play Czerny’s Op. 740, No.1 in a concert, would you? Even though it is music, after all. Well, I have played from that Opus the G minor as an encore, but that’s just me. I mean, look at the ludicrousness of this website — what would you expect?

So, yes: Body comes first. The body will teach our minds to withstand the heaviness of practising. If we cannot last in practising, we won’t come back on anything. We need to be able to teach our minds that enjoyment comes from proper conditioning of our bodies. It’s like in marathon running and its physiological demands. You enjoy the marathon (mentally) after you have learned how to run without exhausting yourself, basically.

And that’s all there is to it. No holistic philosophies, no nights with cheese and wine talking endlessly about the philosophy of Spinoza, nor alternative solutions and other mumbo-jumbo. Just sheer, honest, sensible practising. This will make you come back to piano with a vengeance.

Copyright © 29th of December 2021, by Nikos Kokkinis

 

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I am indebted to the following artists the images of whom I used to create the composite image used in this article: This composite image tries to convey our false priorities in life.

THANK YOU:

 Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

 NeONBRAND on Unsplash

 Japheth Mast on Unsplash

 Vinicius Wiesehofer on Unsplash

 Sincerely Media on Unsplash

 Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

 Tania Mirón on Unsplash

 Nils on Unsplash

 

The Night Owl | How to Find the Strength to Practice Your Musical Instrument

The Night Owl | How to Find the Strength to Practice Your Musical Instrument

Reader Discretion is Advised  

Intro

 

“I will play the f minor Chopin Nocturne by the summer,” you said to yourself.

“I’ll finish that novel by the end of the year,” you heard your friend saying in the cafeteria.

“This year I will finally complete my 1st piano sonata. After all, it is on my new year’s resolution list,” you said to your auntie while strolling in the park.

But, as we all know, you never did…

You are like most of us (me included); a lazy, self-absorbed, wannabe artist that prefers to watch the real artists pass you by. But, that’s normal. Imagine if you actually did the work! You would have been a brilliant writer or a skilled musician or even a celebrated painter. But that cannot happen for most of us and that’s why we will let the Hemingways, the Bill Evanses and the Turners do their job, unhindered by our artistic procrastination and vast incapacity.

But we have better things to do, don’t we? Strolling in the park, for example. Window shopping for three hours. Treating the internal walls of our shed to paint it afterwards. Working like crazy to buy a Louis Vuitton bag. And many more important things to holistically improve our lives. Yes?

But enough of my patronising. After all, you are reading this article and somehow I have to make a point.

 

The Night Owl

 

I’ll tell you, for the last 10 years, I have been a night owl (as the people I described in the previous paragraphs would say). But not to indulge in some Netflix series (even though I pay for a yearly subscription for no reason) or to share my nonsensical thoughts on the social media, but to realise my “artistic” needs.

One of those artistic needs is to write this article that you read, while baffled by my monumental preposterousness. And you know when do I get to write this article? Guess. Yes, at nights – when you are relaxing in the comfort of your couch watching Netflix and accomplishing, well, zilch. Well, each to their own. For me, writing about the piano is what makes me keep going and allows me to feel like an active musician. And not only I write articles, but also, none other than original music… Who could have believed it… my artistic ludicrousness has reached unreachable depths.

 

How I do it

 

Well, it is very, very easy. I use my method of “Three Boxes” that I preach to my pupils all day long. Easy-peasy.

Here’s how it goes:

There are “three boxes” in anything we set our mind to:

The Three Boxes - Piano Practising

Figure 1 The Three Boxes

— The first box is our goal (what we want to achieve at any given time). For instance, complete a piece of music, finish a chapter in our book, or even accomplishing simpler goals, such as sending an apologetic email to a friend or taking the trash out.

— The second box is our reluctance to pursue our goal because of many foreseeable and unforeseeable circumstances, such as tiredness, timidity, shyness, difficulty of task at hand, tendency to procrastination, or other internal delaying tactics.

— The third box is the box to make us reach our goal: Is the act of doing the work; practising, writing, drawing, etc.

All three boxes live inside us, and we all have the same predispositions before pursuing our goals. But only the professionals and the ones that leave no stone unturned in their quest to achieve their ultimate goal manage to “crash” the middle box. And this, my dearest readers, explains the Three Boxes method; to terminate the Middle box — to end our hesitances and the things that make us stop doing the “right” thing.

The Night Owl - Piano Practising

Figure 2 Evading the Second Box and reach our goal faster

How to Accomplish the Three Boxes Method

 

To bypass the second box and skip over to the third box and subsequently accomplish your goal, you need to be in a kind of robot-mode. That means you should not let your emotions and the negativity of the second box spiral out of control, influencing your actions.

So, on the piano, when the notion of the work that needs to be done comes to mind (first box), just suppress and block the second box from appearing in your mind and just go practise. Do it mechanically. Even if you feel exhausted, you will notice that after a few minutes of going into this sequence of events (first to third box) will make you wanting to carry on practising. This is a mind trick, per se, that tricks our brains in essence to detour from its usual psychological paths and just keep going. I have to admit, I am in that mode right this very moment I write this article; I did not have time to write during the day, so I had to make myself do the work and meet this article’s deadline late at night.

So, try out the Three Boxes method – especially when tired. Good things will come.

 

 

 

Copyright © 29th of November 2021, by Nikos Kokkinis

 

The Peter Principle in Musical Performance

The Peter Principle in Musical Performance

In this article, I explore the belief that different branches of knowledge often correlate, and, in our case as pianists, can potentially show us how to perform the piano.

The notion of morality, for instance, which is amongst others a philosophical and cultural subject, not only can it help us excel in our everyday endeavours but also, through our human predisposition for higher moral values (my opinion), somehow, can assist us in becoming better, more fulfilled pianists.

So, let’s dive in and see what that Peter Principal is, and how can it make us understand musical performance, and therefore, make us better performers at this dreaded instrument we wrestle every day, the piano.

What is the Peter Principle

 The Peter Principle entails that a company employee will inevitably reach their “plateau” of competence and will become incompetent. According to Laurence. J. Peter (deviser of the Principle) this happens, because a competent employee will often be promoted, and after a certain number of promotions and position changes they will reach a job position that will demand skills that they won’t have, and thus render them incompetent.

That’s why we often wonder why such-and-such “incompetent” individual reaches a high-paid position in a big corporation or such, even though (always according to us) they are incompetent. That’s not always the case, of course, as we see in family organisations, for instance, but the Peter Principle is indeed a subject worthy of serious study, not only because it can make us appreciate the various dynamics in the corporate sphere but, dare I say, because it can shed light on how the environments that employ hierarchical structures, operate.

How the Peter Principle Affects Musical Performance

Now, in musical performance, the Peter Principle is equally present, since musical performance entails the element of a personal hierarchy on what we improve as artists.

What I mean by “personal hierarchy” is that our artistic achievements depend on many factors, amongst others, our personality traits, idiosyncrasy, artistic goals, and, of course, our core technical proficiency in our instrument. That means performers (similar to the aforementioned employees of a company) can become incompetent by reaching an interpretational plateau they can’t overcome, because they have subconsciously established in advance a hierarchy on the technical aspects they wish to improve in their performance.

For instance, a lot of pianists enjoy the music of J.S. Bach and thus, by performing Bach, subconsciously (and consciously), they become better in interpreting the works of the Baroque era — I’m dumping down. Others adore performing Beethoven’s sonatas or Schubert’s lieder and, thus, they would inevitably develop an affinity for those composers’ music.

However, when you ask a Bach aficionado to interpret the Rachmaninov’s second piano sonata, they might, by and large, produce an inferior result — compared to that of a performer who specialises in the neo-romantic trends of the early twentieth century music. So, pianists will become incompetent the more they move through composers, because they will reach a point where they won’t possess the skills necessary to interpret convincingly the next composer.

How the Peter Principle Affects Famous Pianists

 So, that’s why we often claim that Pollini plays Chopin well, or Gould is a specialist on Bach, or this pianist possesses a Mozartian feel and the other pianist is good on French music.

In all honesty, professional pianists may produce satisfactory results in many pianistic styles, but, sooner or later, they will fall victims to the Peter Principle too, and will find themselves excelling in only a composer or two and, maybe, in a couple of musical styles. That’s why we say that some pianists play all composers “the same” – because those pianists have developed a specific sound signature they transfer from composer to composer.  The Peter Principle will deeply affect their art here, because, by being human beings, they are incapable of absorbing the vast number of technical skills necessary to successfully interpret the ever-changing musical styles and composers’ particularities.

And so the Peter Principal is King, and will render the performer incompetent — incompetent to play a particular composer due to lack of specific pianist skills, incompetent to be a good manager of oneself, again, perhaps due to lack of a specific set of communications skills, etc.

How the Peter Principle Affects Us, Lesser Pianists

We “blame” the Peter Principal for the progression of our musical career, since:

  1. We won’t be able to play beyond our technical capacities — we have developed a specialist set of pianistic tools hard to change as the years go by.

  2. We won’t be able to teach beyond a certain level — some of us have developed a specialty in teaching young children, whereas some others can produce the next Alfred Brendel. (And yes, nice wordings, chemistry and such are not applicable for all piano levels – some pianists need real teaching of technique, and not game cards). I know, I’m horrible.

  3. We will reach a managerial ceiling on how to progress our performing or academic career — Some of us are better managers because we have developed the art of management, but others struggle to present ourselves to the world.

So, it’s all down to skills; unique skills, different successes.

How the Peter Principle affects us psychologically

But, the Peter Principle affects us psychologically, too, and can be the factor that makes or breaks our musical career. It is why we often feel sad and unsatisfied about ourselves as musicians. And that feeling of sadness and discontent is not ephemeral. It might hamper our development as human beings and, of course, as artists.

Sviatoslav Richter, in one of his final interviews, was deeply reflecting about his life as a pianist, and guess what? He wasn’t satisfied one bit about himself as a pianist. He, lo-and-behold, called himself a “failure”! Who? Richter. One of the world’s most accomplished pianists. A pianist that his legend will live forever. So.

 Do you feel better now about judging yourself all the time?

Unfortunately, though, Mr. Peter cannot travel around the world telling you and me why we shouldn’t constantly judge ourselves. He cannot come and tell us to let go of our musical predicaments. He is not around to show us that the reason we often feel incompetent on the piano, is because, naturally, we cannot acquire all possible technical skills to play all musics in perfection. By moving through the various musical positions of our career, we are sure to find fitting places for our talents, but also places that are not meant to be for us — so we need to start being content.

Because we are all truly incompetent is some things. Yes, I’m telling you. We are inco-mpe-tent. You are an incompetent reader (in some things, at least). As if you didn’t know. I’m not in the business of stroking egos, as in all the rest of musical websites where their writers pretend that they cannot see the misfortunes and ignorance of their readers. I know that most of my readers are poor performers with a horrible sense of musical taste and, often, I have to read their extraordinary gibberish and pretend that they have a point to make. But, what can I do? Should I write for Rubinstein and Gilels? No. Those people know their art, but you don’t. You are an incompetent reader! That’s why you are reading my gibberish in this website! But you can do something about your vast incompetence. As long as you care about music, maybe one day you might just shave off a little bit from your complete and utter musical incompetence. As you may see, I am very considerate of my readers because I care about them, and I try tactfully to show them that they might need to improve, because there might be a chance in a billion they’re not monumentally perfect.

Just so you know, I am an incompetent writer and musician, too — don’t worry about it. I know that. But that doesn’t deter me at all from telling my stories to you through my imperfect ways. The reason I’m confident about my pompous writings is because I couldn’t care less about your opinion as my reader. Your opinion has zilch importance to me! I just write because I just have to express myself. But, I also know that even the musicians we consider important today are prey to the Peter Principle too, and they are incompetent in some thing or another — but, they just know how to hide it well. Well, their selected incompetence is not only because of the Peter Principle (that would be a preposterous claim to make) but that’s another story. So, who am I to pretend that I know my craft?

Finale

I hope you, being a budding pianist, got the meaning of the Peter Principle and what it could teach you. But let me tell you something. It’s all nice and good to read articles and that, but know that you’re wasting your time, really. Just go and do some practising if you want to improve your piano playing, and stop reading nonsensical writings, like this article of mine. You know, piano is not only nights with cheese and wine talking superfluously about things that we think we know. Piano is about practising. If you don’t sit, you won’t succeed (cliché).

Off you go. Your piano is waiting for you!

 

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Copyright © 27th August, 2021 by Nikos Kokkinis

I am indebted to Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash, for her strong image I used for the composite image you see at the top of this article.

 THANK YOU

Sharon McCutcheon. Visit her art on Unsplash 

Ethical Performing in Music (part 2)

Ethical Performing in Music (part 2)

As in everything we do in life, ethics can make or break our plight.

We constantly make decisions in our own everyday lives — from the smallest, trivial matters, such as which carton of milk to buy from the supermarket, to the more important ones, such as which is the best nail salon for our friend’s wedding. We take simple decisions, like when is the best time to call our friend without waking them up, and more serious decisions, such as whether it is wiser to buy an $1K mobile phone or an $1K second-hand upright.

Every decision has its merits, and, arguably, its importance is a fully subjective matter. For example, I would gladly spend five grand to buy a secondhand grand piano, but I equally understand the individual who would spend the same amount of money to go on holidays in the Bahamas. I completely understand and respect their needs.

Just kidding! No, I DO NOT understand their needs! What? And then they would complain to me that they cannot afford the finer things in life, such as a piano. Holidays in the Bahamas? What? Crossed out! Buy a second hand grand, instead!

But you knew I was kidding, of course — Don’t forget that this is a piano practising website, that wants to instill as much guilt as possible to its readers in order to ensure they culture themselves.

I have no sympathy when people park outside my studio in a BMW, come inside wearing Prada, to tell me they are in serious thoughts about buying a better electric piano for their son, but they cannot afford it at the moment. If you look at my face when I encounter them, you would think that I am Fats Waller in his most elaborate of stone-faced grimaces. But I have to make money and I nod to them with fake compassion.

“Yes, yes, I perfectly understand,” I would say.

“And you know Nikos, we are trying our best here.”

“Of course! I know!”

“The everyday expenses are enormous.”

“I know, poor parents… how can they do it.”

“Let’s see how it goes, Nikos. We might buy that piano by Christmas. Music is such a wonderful thing!”

“Ba-hah. Yes, say that again.”

“Ok, will see you next lesson then, Nikos.”

“Fantastic!”

“Oh, I forgot we’re going to be away to Malia for the weekend. We’re going Go-Karting with Makis’s brand new Go-Kart!”

“Excellent! Will see you in a couple of weeks!”

 Too many questions and too many decisions to be taken. And behind those decisions, lurking, is always the ethicality of the whole thing.

 

Music

Similarly, in music, we have straightforward questions to answer, we have harder ones, we have pivotal decisions to make, and some not so tough decisions.

And, of course, the importance of those musical decisions lays upon us (or our teacher) and they can be subjectively approached.

“Is my playing too soft right now?” “Is my current tempo leading me smoothly to the climax?” “Is this trill appropriate on Cimarosa?” “Am I ready to tackle this ètude or shall I give my technique a bit more time?” “What my friend is going to think of my playing at tomorrow’s concert?” This and that — Too many questions, and who knows the answers? Certainly not me.

The good news is that the more you’re in the game, the more you simplify things and get to find appropriate solutions. Because music questions, and especially questions that challenge our ethics, are never-ending. Nobody has all the answers — least of all me, who sport a pompous and pretentious website on piano practising, of all things, ludicrously telling you what to do on pianism. The audacity of me having a platform like this is, to say the least, monumental. You see? Anybody can have an opinion on serious and non-serious subjects, no matter how capable they are, and anybody can decide at some point in their lives to tell you what and what not to do! Unbelievable, isn’t it? 

But, the final decision (be it ethical, practical or musical) is always yours to make. You are your own performer and you really have to spell out your plight to your audience; you have to show with conviction why you play the way you play, and you should feel no guilt about it.

The ethics of our performance should come from within and we should never feel intimidated. Every performer has their own ethics, per se, and they see composers, pieces and individual notes through their own perception. This perception is created through their own musical provenance and has nothing to do with our own. Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter — Everybody has their own performing ethics and cannot force them upon you.

The performers who succeed (as with the prominent world leaders who took their people on their own journeys) are the ones that have an eloquent or even eccentric musical plan and they serve it to you, expecting you to accept it. I’m not fond of any type of dictatorship but in musical performance we should play like dictators; we know what is right for us, and we show it to our audiences with conviction, without caring if it is right or wrong, or whether they are going to embrace it — we simply do not cave in. We listen to ourselves, to our own ethics, and we plough on regardless.

My interview with Vladimir Horowitz

On the 6th of November 1982, I had an audience with Vladimir Horowitz. I entered his room reluctantly, feeling the gravity of the situation in the air. I was to meet one of the greats. He stood up, shook my hand, and asked me to sit in the golden chair.

He sat on his piano (yes, that one), placed his flappy hands on the keys and pressed a chord. The chord felt unfamiliar, but not the complexion of his instrument – I knew that piano, I have heard it countless times. Then, he played one more chord followed by a final one before turning to me with a smile on his face.

“So, Nikos, did you like those chords?”, he said.

The question came out of the blue, felt important and I thought I somehow had to give a correct answer.

“Yes, very much.” I answered, immediately regretting my reply.

“Why? Is it because I am Vladimir Horowitz?” He said calmly.

“No. Well, yes, but also because they actually sounded nice.”

“Really? Three chords?”

“I mean, in the right context they would sound good.” I said.

“Were they not in the right context?”

“Um, forgive me maestro, I… I do not know.”

“In the right context… such a tired expression, don’t you think, Nikos?”

He looked at me in contempt. I felt his inner condemnation for my musical incapacity. He knew immediately I was an amateur musician, that all I wanted was to brag to my friends about my meeting with “Horowitz” later on in the cafeteria. He’s had enough with people like me — People that couldn’t appreciate his art, but just craved for a photo or a word with him, just for the sake of it. I was, once again, one with the masses. I wouldn’t be able to hide my well-deserved obscurity, no matter how hard I would have tried. 

Was I there to learn from him? Was I to feast upon his musical knowledge? I wasn’t sure. What I knew, though, was that I was definitely there to make myself important in the eyes of my peers. I knew the time would come that I would hold a glass of wine at a party, sneakily mentioning my meeting with Vladimir Horowitz to an amazed group of partygoers.

He looked at me once again and said:

“Nikos, do you know why people like my piano playing?”

“Well, yes, because you play amazingly,” I said obsequiously.

“No, it is not as simple as that. Many people dislike my tone or my pianistic imperfections, but still they keep coming to my concerts and talk fondly about my career.”

“True.”

“Audiences like my playing because they know I have ethics — they may disagree with them, but they now for sure that I am fully behind them on my every pressing of the keys. They know I couldn’t care less about their feelings and the way they perceive my playing. I play for myself, and I demand my audience to get my gist. I once said to a reporter who asked me about the brilliance of my octaves, that…”

“… I’ve read it.”

“So what are you doing here, Nikos?”

“I came here to learn.”

“Okay. It was nice meeting you. Off you go now, and be an ethical pianist, okay?”

“Sure I will. Thank you, Mr. Horowitz.”

Epilogue

My meeting with Horowitz taught me so much… I’ve learned that sometimes in life you should stand for your musical ideals and perhaps advocate them to the world.

Anyway.

What shall I do now that this article is over?

Well, since I’m starving and I haven’t yet read any books on human nutrition, I suppose I’m off to MacDonalds.

 

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Copyright © 29 July, 2021 by Nikos Kokkinis

I am indebted to the following artists the images of whom I used to create the composite image used in this article:

 THANK YOU:

For more visit the artists’ pages on Unsplash:

Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash

Weston MacKinnon on Unsplash

Ethical Performing in Music

Ethical Performing in Music

“Grub first, then ethics”

Bertolt Brecht

 

 

Ethical performing… “Really, Nikos? What? Is there even a notion like that?” I hear you ask…

 

Well, almost twenty years ago, I was playing to Oxana Yablonskaya Liszt’s 10th transcendental étude in f minor. My performance? Not too horrific. As a matter of fact, I remember it wasn’t that bad at all. But, that’s almost all I remember from this occurrence, I’m afraid. I don’t remember the professor’s facial expressions, I don’t remember any specific details on how to improve the piece, I don’t remember my mood at the time.

But I remember one very crucial thing she told me. I remember what she said to me about bar 24.

And what’s so significant about that bar? Well, it is the bar that defined (for me, at least) the ethics of that étude. Let me elaborate:

As you can see from the image below, bar 24 has the left hand playing the descending passage, continuing the same motif from the previous bar. The right hand awaits comfortably in anticipation to starting the main “tune” in octaves. As you can imagine, the temptation to make the bar’s descent with both hands is immense. Who could have resisted? John Falgtwich, for one, couldn’t.

ethical performing in music

He played the part with both hands in his televised performance in the film My Gift. No-one can deny this — he didn’t resist. So, who am I to judge his genius? Who am to say that you are not to play the passage with both hands? I (conveniently) chose to “follow” John Falgtwich’s lead and perform this passage with both hands and with no guilt. Falgtwich was my excuse to sin.

But Oxana didn’t buy it — at all. She looked at me in contempt and was too kind not to slap me through my face — well, if it was the seventies, she really should have done it, I tell you, and everybody would have applauded excitingly. But, it’s 2021, and smacking on the face is for some bizarre reason not an appropriate reaction from a pedagogue — It’s also not politically correct, of course, so for that reason I’m not supporting smacking faces! Ok? [This is humour guys! Physical violence and/or any kind of violence has no place in this world].

But, let me tell you, she should have slapped my face really hard on that occasion, and with her strong English accent, she should have said:

“Shame on you, Nikos,” *slap on my face*

“But, I just wanted to…”

“*slap on my face*”

“But John Falgtwich…”

“*slap on my face*”

“Oh, all right.”

“You are a horrible pianist, Nikos.” “A dreadful copy-paster.” “A pianistic disgrace.” “But most of all, you are an unethical pianist!”

“…”

This is how the legendary Oxana Yablonskaya should have reacted to my performance of the 24th bar.

But she was too kind — A true pedagogue. And hidden behind my drivel from above (in my effort to create yet again a good read) is my eternal admiration to her highest of pedagogical standards. Because, the laconic Oxana Yablonskaya changed my performing to the good. Read on.

So, what did Prof. Yablonskaya say to me about bar 24? She said (I’m paraphrasing):

“It is an étude, after all. You should treat it like an étude. This bar is to improve your left hand, so you should play it with your left hand only.” Well, she said all the above, but more elegantly.

Oxana Yablonskaya wanted to teach me that the purpose of an étude is to honour its plight; to follow the composer’s intentions, and thus, making us betters pianists. This transcendental study by Liszt is arguably a piece of prestige (compared to the perception we have about studies being lesser works), but it still lingers in the sphere of the traditional “étude”. It should be treated first and foremost as an exercise to improve our technique. This is what Oxana was advocating for me.

And thus, the question of this article: Was my playing “honorable”? Should I cut corners to play a piece? Did my playing possess the right performance ethics? And, ultimately, am I an ethical pianist? All these questions tantalised me for a long time.

Of course, some people would say that I shouldn’t spend a second’s time thinking about those trivial things, and just play the piece. They would argue that the end justifies the means, and, perhaps, rightly so; we should perform a piece properly in the first place, and then care about ethics, notions and the rest of mambo-jumbo. In the case of the Liszt’s transcendental étude in f minor, some pianists would simply argue that instead of risking stalling the flow on bar 24, we should just follow the well-trodden road of musical “cheating”. We should forget about how Liszt may have wanted this bar to be delivered.

Maybe Liszt liked the challenge of playing it with one hand, or, even, he might have longed for the imperfect rendition of an “inferior” (left) hand. But who am I to judge that? In my poorest of opinions, Liszt just preferred a minimalistic “tail” to that phrase to remind us he doesn’t just write pompous musics, but that he is also a master of thinner structures — One might look in the score of his b minor sonata to feast upon the fighting between calm and storm.

Ethical performing is when we perform music honourably. When we research the composer and his intentions, when we leave no stone unturned in our quest to grasp the essence of a composition, and when we are not cutting corners to hide our interpretational ineptitudes.

Ethical performing requires artistic bravery of the highest order and the ones who have it are the artists we admire today.

Some questions remain to be answered though, such as, are the ethical artists, well, totally ethical? Are we all unethical performers to some extent? Would the composer exonerate an unethical performer?

I now know that my opting to play the ending of that phrase in Liszt’s wasn’t a wise choice — it wasn’t by far an honourable performance. I know I tried to conceal my lack of skill. I tried to cheat my way through a piece I wasn’t ready to tackle and in the way I deceived my audiences too. As for John Falgtwich? John Falgtwich is John Falgtwich and can do whatever he wants. He could have played this passage with his pinky, and it was his choice to play it with both hands.

But I’m not Falgtwich — and for that reason, I should have tried my best to play to my capacities.

However, there’s still redemption I suppose. I guess, as long as I teach my pupils to play ethically, one day I will be salvaged.

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Copyright © 30th of June 2021, by Nikos Kokkinis

 

 

I am indebted to the following artists the images of whom I used to create the composite image used in this article:

 THANK YOU:

For more visit the artists’ pages on Unsplash:

Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash

Weston MacKinnon on Unsplash

What Is Good Pianist in Classical Music

What Is Good Pianist in Classical Music

Reader Discretion is advised

Who’s your favourite pianist? A very common question amongst piano afficionados, wouldn’t you say? When you ask this question to someone, they will mention some of the normal names that come up in the everyday pianistic lists: to all those questioned, all these famous pianists will possess some of the following characteristics:

  1. They will be musical
  2. They will be expressive
  3. They will be virtuosic
  4. They will play a particular composer “amazingly

All those above could make the list of the most desired characteristics of a favorite pianist. But, when it comes to what is considered good pianist in classical music, it depends on who you ask.

 

Audiences

 

Audiences almost invariably, never attest that their favourite classical pianist plays slow music well. They never say, “Oh, I loved the way she played the dotted quavers in the second movement of Beethoven’s Op. 2, No. 2.”, or, “he is my favourite pianist because he plays amazingly the andante from Mozart’s Facile sonata” and just stop there.Well, I’m lying — as an eye-wash audiences might mention a slow piece or two their favorite pianist plays to their taste, but they know full well that their favorite pianist is their favorite because she plays like the clappers. She plays fast.

Audiences — i.e. the people who sit and watch a concert, and 95% of them are amateurs (at best) — will often mention slow and lyrical playings, and how they adore the performer’s touch, eloquence, and interpretational hocus-pocus, but they really want nothing to do with it. Inside them they don’t support slow playing at all. Subconsciously to them, a good pianist is the one that plays maniacally fast.

The worst appreciators of music are the audiences! Unfortunately, we have to play to them, even though they know zilch about the pragmatic side of our art and how to appreciate it. I wish we could only play to musicians — some of them are better at understanding what we are trying to do with this massive block of wood with strings we are wrestling every day. However, audiences are very useful because they gullibly pay us their hard-earned cash. So, we have to smile at them, nod our heads at them, listen to their mysterious gibberish often with stone-faced expressions, marvel at their colossal gullibility, and generally suffering a lot just to steal their cash. Go figure.

 

Performers

 

The show continues when it comes to performers. As performers, we think we are self-entitled to know what good pianismand particularly “good pianist”is! We are masters in talking nonsense all day long and can virtuosically hide our titanic musical ineptitudes through our proficiency of eloquent expressions.

See, we are all day long in the company of artistic peers who are equally masters in finding niche ways to describe their nonsensical art, so there’s no surprise there. Words, such as “expressive”, “flair”, “challenged”, and “feelings” occupy massively our everyday vocabulary and are the bread and butter of our artistic quiddity. That means we are extra careful when we express important notions, such as the musical quality of a pianistAs you may have noticed through this website, the use of considerate, graceful expressions that show respect and understanding for our fellow pianists are the kernel of a successful musical career and, dare I say, of good writing.

So, “good pianist” for us performers is, definitely, the one that plays both slow and fast music well. Good pianist is, of course, the one that through his lyrical and precise technique the desires of the composer are revealed. Good pianist for the pianist is the one who is a “pianist” in both mind and body and has the ability to lift the minds of an audience to great heights. Blaah. Just kidding, of course.

Can you spot the pretentiousness? Can you spot the… dare I say, nonsense? You must be out of your mind if you think performers think of anything else other than fast playing! We couldn’t care less about slow movements and Yasashii demeanours — we breathe fastness in our world of false priorities.

You don’t believe me?

Well, show me one pianist that is considered great by only playing slow piano music and has played no fast. Mention just one! You can’t. I know. ( Again, I’m not making any friends with this article).

 Okay. I’m off to practice the Flight of the Bumble Bee.

Copyright © 1st of June 2021, by Nikos Kokkinis

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I am indebted to the following artists the images of whom I used to create the composite image used in this article: This image tries to convey false priorities and meaningful things in life. The reader is invited to choose which of the three images is closer to their idiosyncrasy. THANK YOU:

Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

 Juan Goyache on Unsplash

Kristopher Roller on Unsplash