Do we play for us or for the others?

Do we play for us or for the others?

Arguably, we, the people who associate ourselves with music and the piano, do play for the others.

Well, we play for the others in concerts, in classes, etc., but first and foremost, we play for ourselves. What do you think?

Since our species is mainly tribal in nature, we exert satisfaction from all kinds of external approval, such as when performing, and thus, performing for the others is considered a main component of our human predispositions. Remember that, in a way, we do constantly perform in our everyday lives; we speak in gatherings, we care of how we look, we carefully utter our thoughts, and so on and so forth. Αll this belongs to the “performing” categorization. Thus, somehow, performing should benefit us, otherwise we wouldn’t do it.

Coming to music and piano, even though you might argue that you play chiefly for your own wellbeing, or “for myself” as we normally say, ultimately, you mainly play for some different sets of ears. At the same time, playing for others makes us happy and content, and since this gives us some sort of gratification that means we also play for ourselves.

Thus, on a most basic level, this is a wonderful musical vicious circle. But, is there a definite answer to the question raised in the title of this article? I think there is. Let’s carry on.

Paraphrasing The Enlighted self-interest philosophy in ethics, one could argue that musicians who perform for the satisfaction of an audience, ultimately perform for the satisfaction of themselves. Thus, this philosophy maintains that offering something of value to the others is only approvable—at least subconsciously—if it benefits oneself. So, coming to music and simplifying the above principle, we play for the audience and benefiting them with our wonderful sound, because it benefits us first in many levels by playing to that audience. Go figure.

And then there’s this other thing; why do we play for the others, even if we know that we walk a tightrope, performing music that can sabotage our musical standing if we didn’t deliver it properly? Why we subject ourselves to the tyranny of stress and tachycardia? Do we really do this for our own benefit? Well, fortunately my incapable mind didn’t have to answer this question; a bigger, more robust mind, luckyly did it for me: The German philosopher Emmanuel Kant.

He asserted that—I’m paraphrasing—we do things not because we care if they are right or wrong, but because they fulfill, in a way, our inner urges. So, in essence, if Kant was lecturing a piano student, he would instruct him to just go for it, without caring about memory lapses, wrong notes, or approval from his peers, and just play, because this way he will satisfy his inner need of performing; and ultimately, he will be first catering to himself.

Schools of thought always maintained that the central reason of our actions is to promote our own wellbeing. And, before I continue oversimplifying the research of the great minds of this world, I would just finish this by expressing to you why I perform.

I perform for myself. At least, this is what I believe I do. I don’t do it for the others. Even if someone asks me to do it in exchange for a fee, it still benefits me in a most basic and Darwinian way, and I cannot alter that.  I like what I’m doing and I feel that if my enjoyment is shared by an audience, that’s really fantastic. However, when an audience’s approval coincides with my love of performing, that’s still incidental. But what could be a better “incident” than that?

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Copyright (c) 31-05-2019 by Nikolaos Kokkinis

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What an Audience Wants

What an Audience Wants

When audiences come to us — that is to say, attend our performances — they come for a reason. They seek, and they demand. And rightfully so, of course, because let’s not forget that they have already honoured us first and offered us one of their most precious properties; their time. So, we have to honour them back, if I may say, thank them for coming, and offer them our music as a token of our gratitude. In this article, we talk about the things our audience seeks from us, the performers. 

Here’s some of them:

  1. Audiences seek their own satisfaction. That goes without saying, of course, and that is the first and foremost thing that an audience (and every human being in this life of ours, to be honest) cares about before they commence doing something. Audiences want to have a meaningful evening that will inspire THEM, will lift THEIR spirits and leave THEM fulfilled and regenerated. 

  2. The gestalt of your individual performance; The audience wants the aroma that your concert emanates and its enchanting aftertaste. They want to exit your concert venue thrilled, with their hearts pumping with excitement. 

  3. The gestalt of you. Through your music an audience will forge an idea of what you represent in life and what is essentially, well, you; they want to have more of that aura that you, customarily, give in your performances, and that’s why they may keep coming to your performances in the future. At the same time, the things they may not interest them that come from you, such as your political or religious views, will, however, inadvertently shape your sound, and thus, if the audience likes your art through your sound, they will, somehow, like you as an individual as well.

  4. Your own interpretation of a piece they like; Your fans might like how you particularly phrase that nocturne by Chopin or your classical-piano take on Kapustin’s jazzy studies. 

  5. To experience new music. Audiences often want to test their ears with new composers and their latest creations.

  6. An audience might be in the process of seeking new and refreshing interpretations on established repertoire. Not wise for a pianist to attempt, but let us be open and accept this as a possibility. 

  7. They might just want to re-taste an established interpretation on a piece they like, because you wouldn’t necessarily go to a concert demanding a radical approach to the Waldstein, for example -We tend to leave classic repertoire “as is”. Eccentricity or differentiation in interpretational approach is not always a reasonable goal for a pianist and could not necessarily come in line with what the composer themselves ultimately wanted. 

  8. To come closer to understand the meaning of life. Their coming to you is a conscious endeavour to understand the world and relish on its beauties, but not see its ugliness. So, you better play those notes correctly and usher those people further in apprehending a possible “meaning” of life. 

  9. Audiences come to you to become better. It’s an innate predisposition of humans to improve and to move forward in a “right” direction through the “right” medium, a medium they have pre-defined. Thus, you owe to be respectful and honoured by your fellow passengers on life’s train.  

Before closing this, I would say that if I were you, I would concentrate on the last two things on the above list; because they show that humanity has indeed unique, honourable intentions. Even though I know that all the things we do are to ultimately benefit us and our own wellbeing, I would remain on the more romantic and idealistic side of life and keep believing that we still do things altruistically. 

Oh, no. Altruism is still ME, ME, ME. 


 

 

Copyright © Nikos Kokkinis 31 March 2019

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What Doesn’t Interest An Audience

What Doesn’t Interest An Audience

We, the performers, often take for granted that people come to our performances to simply listen to us playing the piano.  We might assume that audiences simply come to us, for us. And so, since they come to us, instead of the other way around, they must unconditionally accept the things that we have to offer. 

However, we mustn’t forget that audiences have personalities and “egos” as well, and inevitably, they can also be indifferent to some of the things that emanate from us. 

In this article we talk things that don’t interest an audience. 

An audience is not interested in some of the following:

  • Your feelings; audiences couldn’t care less if you are kind, serene, a humanitarian, or an art lover, I’m afraid. They didn’t come to your concert to buy a painting you liked in the Met last week. 
  • Your emotions; The audience don’t want anything to do with what triggered your anxiety after calling your bank this morning. They demand to listen to the Moonlight sonata if they may. 
  • What you think of yourself; Maybe you love yourself or maybe you hate yourself, but the audience doesn’t mind at all either way. 
  • Your physical shape at the time of your performance. They’re not in the least interested to know if you’re in pain because you twisted your ankle, or if you have a stiff neck because you didn’t do your weekly class of Pilates.  
  • If you like the music you’re playing; Really, they’re so uninterested in that. 
  • If you like the piano of tonight’s venue; Audiences are completely unmoved by your opinion that the piano you are about to perform on cannot project your “subtle techniques” or “expressive nuances” in Chopin’s fourth Ballade. So, on with performing, please!
  • Your attire. I mean, don’t really play the Appassionata wearing a wetsuit and you’ll be fine. No need to be wearing colorful jackets, backless dresses or extravagant bow ties, except, of course, if you want to distract your audience from your mediocre pianism; then you must.  

  • Your own understanding of the music you are playing in that concert; zilch caring, too. 
  • Your general music expertise; The audience didn’t pay your ticket because, say, you harmonise correctly a bassline, or you are very good in dectée, or you can write an in depth structural analysis on Schnittke’s second piano sonata.
  • Your numerous musical and theoretical qualifications, such as degrees, certificates, doctorates, Phd’s, Post Docs and the rest of noise that actually did nothing less than stopped you from practising the piano when it mattered the most. 
  • Your other qualifications, such as your degree in law, or your Bachelors with honours in Agriculture; do I need to elaborate more on this?
  • If you are rich or poor; not a difference to them at all. They’ve already paid the ticket to your concert and made a reservation at the Italian restaurant later on. You are heading back home on a train, so relax. 
  • What are your future goals; I mean, by all means record Medtner’s complete piano sonatas, or finish up the last act on your Opera, but tonight is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Just play the piano if you don’t mind. 
  • Your character. When the audience comes to see you play Schubert, they don’t care if you are well-mannered, compassionate, loyal, strict, easily offended, irate, or that you like the cats. They’d rather heard you… um, let me think, oh yes… PLAY THE PIANO. 
  • Your political, or other personal views; I’ve never heard of a member of the audience saying he particularly liked an iteration of the Cadenza in Beethoven’s third piano concerto, but hated the rest because the pianist voted liberal in the previous general election. 

So, yes, we are performers! Congratulations! Let’s give ourselves a pat in the back. And if there was a PhD in “audience pleasing” we’ll be sure the first to get it. However, we need to get off our high horse at once, and think about our audiences as well! Let’s stop delusioning. Can it really be that an audience is only interested in us and our “unique” personality traits? How much more self-centered can we be if we believed that?

Do I sound harsh and horrible? Yes, I do sound harsh and horrible and, please, feel free to condemn me and liberally add to my list of horribleness. If anything I should have been harsher though. Because I have a mission with these writings of mine. To help the gullible pianists become realistic and, well, less gullible and face the realities in their art.

So, when you perform, it’s not only about you. It’s also about your audience. On with your practising. 

© Nikos Kokkinis 27th of February 2019

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Scholarly Versus Voguish Phrasing

Scholarly Versus Voguish Phrasing

Initial Thoughts

 

As with our verbal communication, musical communication demands appropriate phrasing to show with clarity what we are trying to convey.

Since the day we are born, we try to perfect the “art” of communication, both consciously and subconsciously. Humans are communicating verbally but also using other non-verbal ways. In music, we communicate mostly with creating or manipulating sounds.

By the time we are three years of age we can construct simple sentences, and then by five we speak with more flair, and deliver sentences with special stresses and hereditary audial predispositions, so our fellow human beings can, basically, understand what we are trying to tell them.

Then, by the time we reach adulthood, it’s safe to suggest that we have “perfected” our own verbal communication skills — some of us have succeeded more and some of us less. Going forward in life, at some point, our ongoing road to perfecting verbal communication will reach a peaking point and then, inevitably, it will cease to progress; again, for some of us abruptly and for others at a slower pace.

 

It’s Not About the Ingredients. It’s How We Use Them.

Speaking is not only about which words we use but also about the way we deliver them to our listeners. Thus, different delivery equals different meaning(s). The same applies to music, but we’ll get there in a few moments.

Here’s an example of how a simple phrase can send different messages to a set receiver.

In this example, we will use the phrase “I like music”.

Those three words uttered with different pauses and stresses will mean different things. Here we go. I used bold text for the stressed words:

  1. like music: if I stress the word “I”, this could mean that I, personally, am the one who likes music, as opposed to someone else who doesn’t like it, for example.

  2. I like music: If we stress the word “like” I could try to convey that I want the listener to grasp that ‘I indeed like music a lot’, as opposed to hating it or other.

  3. I like music: This time we stressed the word “music” and that could signal that I like music instead of something else, such as painting or math.

 

Scholarly vs Voguish phrasing

Similar to verbal communication from above, the same axiom applies to music; A set musical phrase performed in varied ways will tell a different story to our audience.

But, what’s more important, is which phrasing should we choose? Our own phrasing, a voguish phrasing, the composer’s phrasing, the editor’s phrasing, or other?

Well, the answer is always in front of us: It’s the composer’s own phrasing that we should honour. Here are a few reasons for it:

  • We get to deeply apprehend the composer’s music idiosyncrasies, compared to other composers of his/her era.

  • We could potentially draw nearer to how to perform composers that share similar compositional characteristics with the composer we currently perform.

  • If the composer is a pianist herself, that’s all the better; usually they “know” what they are doing pianistically, thus, by following their instructions we not only learn about their style but, incidentally, we also improve our own technique.

  • We ultimately learn how to follow instructions — Following instructions in life is indeed an integral part of proper human social functioning.

  • Following instructions and music rules to the letter, will make us musically equipped to break them, if we wish, down the line.

  • We will also come closer to the conclusion that technique should mainly be practised in the right context. For example, we could, but shouldn’t really try to grasp the baroque keyboard peculiarities by playing them, using the music from a composer from the romantic period.

Thus, coming closer to the point of this article, even if we perfect the way we choose to deliver a musical phrase, that doesn’t mean that we are doing something that has any veritable meaning. Of course we should always try to challenge things in life and be open-minded, and fearless, and heroic and all. But music is a serious business. It involves composers’ rules, and we should honour those rules. Breaking rules and doing our own phrasings, articulations etc. is ok now and then, but doesn’t mean that this makes us more musically heroic or adventurous.

The composer’s intended musical notions are there for a reason. And, coming back to the verbal communication, we’ve all seen people that use the language with flair, composure and perfect diction, only to not be able to make sense of what they’re talking about. (Am I falling into this trap in this very article?) Same applies to the piano and music.

If, for instance, we choose to play the third movement of Beethoven’s Tempest sonata in staccatissimo, and our performance is perfect musically, (rhythmically, melodically, technically, etc.) that doesn’t mean that this is the way Beethoven wanted to communicate this piece. Technical proficiency and understanding of intended musical phrasing do not always overlap.

 

Final Thoughts

To complete this article I will just say, that even though voguish or experimental phrasing can indeed improve our technique, we should always strive to do the accepted phrasing of the time of performing. If available, using the composer’s own phrasing is paramount.

 

Copyright © 2018 by Nikos Kokkinis

 

 

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Bullying in Music

Bullying in Music

Disclaimer: if you are a sensitive individual, if sometimes you take what you read personally, if you ocassionaly become ever so slightly uptight about things you read, then please DO NOT read the following article. This article contains exaggerated opinions and harsh, disrespectful and informal expressions to facilitate an enjoyable read. Everything below should be approached with an open mind. All text is food for thought. No advice below is to be followed. The text below must not be read by people under the age of eighteen (18). Read at your own discretion. Before reading, you agree that have read our website’s Terms of Use and Disclaimers.

Bullying… who hasn’t received it or, dare I say, who hasn’t been one. Haven’t you been one? I’m sure you have been a bully at some point in this life of yours.

As far as I am concerned, I’m sure that I have been a bully at some point in my life, even though I can’t locate it in my memories, and also nobody has ever complained about being subjected to bullying by me. Well, I might even exercise bullying at this very moment towards you, the reader; since, the way I see my writing right now, is that it contains a scent of aggressiveness. Don’t you agree? I’m sure you do.

However, I have to confess, that I was, and am, a victim of mild bullying in my everyday life. I cannot come up with specific examples right now of how I am being bullied, but somehow it feels like bullying to me. So.

Now. According to a 2014 study by PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America), bullying has destroyed lives, but at the same time has benefited the bullies themselves. Unbelievable to some of you, but true.

To me, this was always the case! I knew that my colleague Alexander felt exhilarated when he repeatedly bullied another colleague of ours, Jonathan, on his preference in the vegan diet. It was so obvious that Alexander was enjoying himself immensely.

Those researchers at PNAS deserve a big THANK YOU. They did a great job, and their research produced concrete results to further understand the bullying phenomenon and pave the way to eliminate it in the future. Well done to them, once again.

So eventually, PNAS’s findings indicated that “Victims display long-term social, psychological, and health consequences, whereas bullies display minimal ill effects.”[1]

 

I, the bully

So, here is where I reveal to you, that I have been a merciless bully. A horrible bully.

However, I haven’t been a bully with my fists or words, but with my piano playing.

I have tried to bully around many an audience with my piano performances. I bullied them hard with my peculiar musical views and with my eccentric interpretations, and I couldn’t care less. I forced them to listen to my dictatorial pianistic interpretations and I could sense their inner condemnation of my performances.

I’ve exercised musical bullying because I’ve learned, that it was the only way to make your mark in this “copy-paste” pianistic world.

And it felt so good. PNAS was right…

So much the audience found my performances controversial, that they were for once lead to believe, that there were indeed many interpretations of a piece, and not only worn-out iterations.

They were used to listen to carbon interpretations for so long, that my own interpretational choices seemed alien to them, and thus it naturally felt like a worst kind of musical nightmare; at least, initially.

 

What Is Musical Bullying

So, what is this musical bullying?

Musical bullying is simply a conscious effort by the performer to challenge their audience with his sound, be it live or in recordings, forcing them to experience his personal musical views of a work of music. The performer’s musical views bear the controversial denomination.

The performers often want to try and test their audiences and generally make them feel uneasy, uptight and vulnerable; they long for the audiences to validate their controversial musical choices, which are being considered taboo by the musical zeitgeist. Note, that the performer’s need for bullying doesn’t belong to the one-time occurrences. It will often repeat itself in big and small venues alike.

However, the performer’s need for musical bullying leads to addiction, and this addiction often causes them to purposefully implement distorted interpretational concepts in order to reinforce the effect of musical bullying to their auditory “victims”, and thus, reinforcing their own enjoyment.

Additionally, however, their bullying addiction can often lead to the misjudgment of different musical styles or even developing a permanent distorted view of how a piece should actually be performed.

The performers would also regularly see to communicate their immense satisfaction from the musical bullying; they will go about describing heroically their bullying performances to their colleagues in meetings, in order to receive more official, per se, gratification from their own interpretational shenanigans. That satisfaction could arguably be much higher than the one experienced from performing a universally acceptable interpretation.

Paradoxically or even masochistically, often, the audiences themselves would obtain pleasure from the performer’s musical bullying. They often want to be “tried” and experience new interpretational perspectives by forfeiting their own musical values to the bullying performers.

Those audiences would bend over backwards to express loyalty to current musical norms, but behind the scenes they won’t conceal their forbidden approval of the bullying performer.

 

Plead

So, I sincerely plead with you, as a music professional, to also be a musical “bully” yourself. Don’t be afraid of the “musical Judges” or “The experts” in music. Do your thing, within reason of course. Who can blame you if you play Chopin’s first study op.10 in half the currently expected speed? So, you’re not a virtuoso then? Who cares? Not Chopin, for sure! He, as far as I know, didn’t compose his piece on the grandiose Steinway model D, a piano that can handle today’s unprecedented virtuosity.  What about Handel? What about Bach! Who can point their fingers and claim with certainty that your interpretation of a Scarlatti sonata is a bit “off”? Not me. Not a couple of other romantics in the musical world that I know of, but the majority of the establishment is going to condemn you. Remember this. But then again, should you care? I don’t know. You are to answer this question.

If you feel the need to express your unique phrasings and pass on your self-indulging interpretations, do go for it. You won’t pass too many auditions, of course, but you will be a bold artist. An artist that cannot be chained into books’ rules and ancient apothegms.

But, when the dust settles, you’ll be the one who made their mark. Not the “copypasters”.

There’s no other way around that. Nowadays all performances sound the same. And I mean the accepted and the good ones. Because, amongst the ones that are considered “bad” you can find a huge variety of distinguishable ones. The ones that are considered good from the current musical establishment though, are to me often utterly yawning.

All the accepted pianists play alike. Their takes on the La Campanella is always the same, for instance. Well, not really the same, but the same, really. Who can deny it. I mean, ok, with a small variance on the speed, but it’s the same thing altogether. Is like making mashed potatoes by always using the same ingredients. Have you ever added rosemary?

I know what some of my honorable colleagues are thinking right now… “What is he talking about?” “I hate his style.” “I hate this guy!” Well, each to their own.

 

The Essence Of “Musical Bullying

Innocently in this article, the eternal bullying phenomenon was, in a way, tested. However, let’s not forget that the actual bullying and its different types has made people suffer greatly over the course of our human history. Only recently bullying has been elevated to a major threat to our advancement as species. This bullying can never be joked about. Not in the least.

The didactic essence of “musical bullying” used in this article, is to simply challenge us, the performers. This type of challenge in not harmful, and can only lead to more meaningful things in our journey through music.

Musical bullying is not bullying in the conventional sense. It serves both as a reminder to “keep moving” in life, but also to remove us from our comfort zone, as they cliché-like say, and lead us to interpretational bravery, and consequently internal belief in oneself.

It also helps the audience emancipate themselves from the restraints of iron-fisted musical authorities, and give the audiences the belief that they, too, can contribute to the ever-changing dynamics of the musical zeitgeist.

[1]http://www.pnas.org/content/111/21/7570

©Nikos Kokkinis- 1st of December 2018

Many thanks to George Coletrain for the wonderful image used in this article. Please visit below for more to visit the artist’s website.

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The Que Será, Será Syndrome

The Que Será, Será Syndrome

“If you always give, you will always have.” Chinese Proverb

 

A few years back my friend AJ experienced an incident so peculiar, that made me think deeply about the things that affect my priorities as a musician, and the space those things should occupy (if any), in my everyday musical and personal life.

As the song “Que Será, Será” implies, the future consequences from our or others’ actions are beyond our control. And we shouldn’t really think about it.

Now, you might ask how this story relates to practising the piano in the first place. Well, a notion that we often forget to appreciate and even fail to communicate to our students, is the importance of optimally prioritising the things we do in our everyday lives; it makes little or no sense, if we perfectly know how to practise the piano, but fail to actually sit and practise in the first place, due to bad time-management. Often, that poor time-management, derives directly from actions that we take upon other peoples’ requests. Those requests may be perfectly justified or they can be unreasonable. However, it doesn’t matter, because those requests do manage to have the same result altogether: Consuming our valuable time.

And thus, I decided to honour my friend’s misadventures by telling you his story.

So, the story goes that AJ was innocently “lured” by the mother of one of his violin students to write a violin and piano arrangement to the tune of “Que Será, Será” for her and her son to play. She was an amateur pianist and knew her way around the piano, but the arrangement had to be of intermediate level for both her and her son to be able to play adequately.

AJ was caught off-guard after a casual conversation over coffee by the family’s indoor swimming pool, after their Sunday’s weekly lesson. Somehow, AJ felt obliged to satisfy the mother’s wish to write this arrangement. Though, he didn’t know why he felt so obliged to do it. Was it the high rates he was demanding for his lessons? Did the swimming pool and the surroundings play a role in his decision? Or, was it a simple inability to say no to a rich, powerful, and hospitable employer? He wouldn’t know at the time, but, rest assured, he understood later.

Only after hopping on his moped on the way back home everything begun to sink in. The issues that surfaced after he said “yes, I’ll do it,” were endless. Now, he had to follow an unexpected turn of events and write this arrangement!

He not only had to actually construct an arrangement from scratch, and everything such an endeavour entailed, but he also had to include in that arrangement the piano; even though he had done piano as a second study at college, this instrument and its world of notation was far from being proficient to him. At the same time, he had to pay copyright fees in order work on a piece that didn’t belong to the public domain. And, as you would expect from reading this so far, he was too proud to ask the parent to pay the fees. Go figure.     

Another problem was that he had to complete this task in a timely manner, because, as he confessed to me months later, “there was no point to say yes, and then deliver in a couple of years.”

In addition, he had to face the practicalities of diving into notation software for the first time in many years. He kind of knew his way around the Finale notation software, but he wasn’t certain that he could really tame this beast of a program, since the last time he really had to use it, was back in 2004, when he was notating the examples of his PhD thesis on Percy Grainger. And, of course, he wasn’t willing to give scribbles of a handwritten score to the family that was, basically, supporting him financially. He was doomed.

He parked his moped in the parking lot behind the O2 Centre in Finchley Road and took out a pack of Marlboro lights from his back pocket. He lit a cigarette up, took a deliberate drag and threw the remainder on the pavement. He decided that he had to act immediately. He eagerly looked up towards the O2’s cinema complex, but he knew that the film he was planning to watch on the big screen later on, was swiftly going out of the equation.

Immediately that night he started planning the “great escape” from his musical escapades; first, he had to secure that by penning his own musical arrangement he wasn’t infringing any copyrights. For that, he immediately emailed the copyright holders of the song and by Monday morning the company answered back, allowing him to do the arrangement. Then, he phoned his old friend Douglass from the Florida School Of Atonal Composition, to essentially reassure him that he could easily get back on track with the Finale. Douglass, a well-respected composer of micro-tonal music and an aficionado of Finale, had used the software for almost half a century now and he was the perfect guy to help my friend. Luckily, after hearing AJ’s distressed voice over the phone, Douglass, was also willing to edit the engraved outcome; it’s needless to say that this was a piece of cake for him.

But, for AJ, the problems were far from over; His unprecedented decision to accept this musical chore, forced him to having to overcome one of mankind’s greatest hurdles. A hurdle so steep, that even though it tantalised men from the beginning of time, it admittedly pushed some of them to achieve greatness: His Wife.

“What are you going to doooo?”

“Well, I….”

And that was the last sentence AJ would attempt to utter.

He was so scared of his wife, that he preferred to be enlisted to join the army, than hear that particular question from her again. He knew that every time his wife uttered this expression, there was going to be trouble ahead; he had to listen to a minimum of half-an hour lecture on why he was incapable of saying no to “stupid requests”, as his wife always used to say.

AJ was an honourable man. As with every human being, he had his share of weaknesses of course, but those were far below average in the scale of unimportant to serious ones. He was honest, compassionate, loved his wife wholeheartedly and never stole anything from anybody, except for that time that he snatched a Parker pen from the floor of one of the corridors in his gym. He just couldn’t leave it there. “It was so shiny and new”. He just took it in his hands and put in his pocket, naively thinking that nobody would really miss a pen. He always regretted that action.

He wasn’t going to let himself and the others down this time either; so he did what he had to do.

He spent the following week slaving it away, trying to heroically complete the arrangement, much to the disapproval of his wife. He stayed late at nights and phoned Douglass one too many times over the Atlantic, asking him to firstly forgive him and his infantile engraving demands, and then to help him out with engraving. On Wednesday he didn’t watch his favourite 50-minutes long episode of Poirot because, simply, there was no time. He also twice denied going out for drinks with his colleagues after work. He sacrificed so many things that week…

But then, on Saturday afternoon, as a most beautiful rose, his arrangement finally blossomed. Everything was up to scratch. He put the final touches on the score, typed his name as the arranger below the composer’s name, and then extracted and printed the parts. Ahhh, the feeling.  He did it, and it felt so good.

The next afternoon, after his violin lesson and with a big smile on his face, AJ presented his student with the copy of the arrangement. His satisfaction that he completed the task was immense. Both mother and son warmly thanked him and he felt important, but also blessed.

The following week he came back again, and after the lesson he keenly asked the mother if they tried his arrangement. She said that they didn’t really have time that previous week, and promised him that they would have a look at it soon.

Immediately after hearing this, AJ got the gist of the whole scenario. He knew what happened. He felt betrayed. He felt that his efforts were futile, and as much as he liked to do the right thing, the others would not repay him with the same respect that he gave them. He felt that they should have tried his arrangement, or at least pretended that they did. But, no. Not even a rehearsed excuse to keep up the appearances. Nothing. It was like he just handed them a squished packet of crisps from the off-license next door.

“But it wasn’t like that. I gave my all. My work is important and deserves to be suitably respected,” AJ thought.

That was a big life-lesson for both AJ, and for me.

AJ learned the hard way that life is indeed about putting us and our interests first and foremost. Who can deny it? If we can’t keep ourselves both mentally and physically healthy, how can we ever satisfy our own needs? Because if we don’t satisfy our own needs and yearnings, we won’t be able to satisfy the needs of our fellow human beings, which in essence, goes hand-in-hand with our own interests. A broken man cannot fully heal his fellow man; that’s undeniable. One has to be at his best, to be able to be of service.

So coming back to the piano, this instrument DEMANDS. Demands not only our mental capacities but equally our physical strength.

So, say no to the everyday trivialities.

If you had practising to do, say NO to your friend when they ask you to pick them up after work because their car was broken. Let them take the bus. Your piano comes first.

Say NO to proofreading your cousin’s nine thousand-word essay, and instead improve that long-overdue cadenza.

Your personal time is paramount.

I mean, we all owe to be compassionate and all, but at what cost? Would you, the reader, be willing to be compassionate and care for your friend’s sick father for ten days in the hospital? No? Why? Are you not human? What are you? A robot? No, of course not; you are human, but firstly, you have your own life to attend to. A life that you must nurture if you want it to blossom.

 

The Que Será, Será Syndrome

 

In contrast to the didactic “Que Será, Será” song, the syndrome of the Que Será, Será is a common condition that we all suffer from, unfortunately. Of course, some of us less and some more. This “syndrome”, indeed, has nothing to do with the popular song and its positive meaning, and only by sheer coincidence served as an example, metamorphosing its positive meaning to a darker one, in order to assist my friend’s tale.

This syndrome is about our journey to make others happy in the expense of our own wellbeing. Often, the people who benefited from our sacrifices won’t know the troubles we went through to satisfy their own earthly demands, but even if they did know, they darwinically couldn’t care less. They will eternally feel the words and the music of the song, no matter what, and it is they that they’re going to reap the benefits from the song’s positivity and hey-ho dynamics. But not us.

It’s an innate human predisposition to want to make the others happy. It’s also innate, I’m afraid, our eternal incapacity to fully appreciate others’ givingness. Remember the famous saying that no good deed goes unpunished? This couldn’t be closer to the truth for us musicians, and for good reason.

So, we must put our “musical wellbeing” first, because music, is the essence of our existence in this life, at the end of the day. And so, we, more often than not, get punished musically on our good deeds, because for us musicians, music punishment is where it hurts the most.

It was Christmas time. The house was covered in fresh snow and an exquisite, festive aroma of smokey chimneys was filling the neighbourhood.

Mother and son found themselves by the fireplace, waltzing to the music of “Que Será, Será”.

“That’s how life should be!” the mother happily exclaimed. “Just dancing, being happy and not caring about anything!”

“Yes mom, you’re right!” the boy replied.

“Whatever happened to that arrangement your teacher wrote for us a few months ago? We never came around to play it.”

“Oh, yeah. Um… I don’t really know mom. I think I’ve lost it.”

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are fictitious. The parking lot behind the O2 centre and cinema complex in Finchley Road, North London are real places, however, the events described there are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events and incidents is coincidental. By reading this you accept our site’s Terms Of Use and Disclaimers.

©November 1st 2018, PianoPractising.com