Rattling the cage

single day, while riding the bus to work, I decided I wanted to give a solo piano recital. I have no idea where this reflection came from; although I had been an active accompanist and collaborative pianist for years, I hadn't done any solo work since my last graduate recital, seven years before. I had at no time stopped practicing; my chops were still advantageous But a full-length memorized solo recital? I was a drawn out way from that.

on the other hand on the bus that particular morning, the realization I was not ever going to be an overnight succes washed above me. No one was going to hear me practicing and tender me a recording contract. The of recent origin York Philharmonic wasn't likely to call me when Andre Watts bowed on the outside Nevertheless, what if I made giving solo recitals part of my life? individual isolated recital wasn't significant, on the contrary a lifetime of giving yearly (or flat more frequent) recitals was something--something I wanted.

And in like manner impulsively, I began making plans. I lay the foundation of a venue, scheduled a date, deposit together a program and began practicing. unexpectedly months later, I find myself with fistfuls of Mozart, Schubert and Ravel beneath my fingers and a quickly approaching recital engagement.

With age, experience and serviceable instruction, I have learned all the "tricks" to memorizing and advantageous preparation. I establish memory spots: markers from which I can start at any time. I learn to play my hands separately and then play individual hand with the correct dynamics and phraseology while the other hand mimes soundlessly upon top of the keys. Away from the piano, I practice silently upon the table and study my music. I know lock opener arrangements and cadences and understand the intricacies of form and function. These practice habits make me a more sure performer by providing a vigorous safety net. After all, I can extricate myself from any potential accident or memory slip. I can catch myself if I fall.

These habits labor for me well as I learn my general program. This morning, I practiced the Ravel at half-speed, the Mozart starting at different sections, the Schubert hands separately. I still desperately ne these habits; I am thankful when I trip upon a new and improved way to sure my memory. I teach these exercises to my pupils and drill them on these techniques. on the contrary preparing for this recital perceive s entirely different than practicing did while I was in institute Then, it was so programmed, for a like reason dictated. Now, no one is telling me what to play or in what way to play it. I perceive a great deal of freedom, on the other hand also a great deal of anxiety. For what I realize as I negotiate these notes and phrases is I am not the same somebody and certainly not the same pianist, I was the last time I memorized a solo recital. Of course, I knew that already, on the contrary deep in the middle of more [i]or[/i] less complicated passage, I come face-to-face with the realization that the elderly rules of learning aren't enough anymore.

For thus much of my life, performing memorized music was an out-of-body experience. Although I had at no time gone into a performance without being able to play a piece centurys of times in a rank without a mistake, as I sat down at the piano bench for a performance, it was as if I was stepping onto a roller coaster. I was upon a ride, but I was not in direction I sleep-walked through most performances, praying my preparation would obtain me through. There was a certain air of mystery and fate about the whole thing: I practiced hard and then give overed to the occasion. Although there were no gaps in what I knew it at no time failed: what I feared about performing was memory slips. In spite of all past experiences to the contrary, level today I fear not being able to come by through the recital with my memory intact. I haven't fallen apart in a performance since I was 8 years advanced in years and there is no reason to assume I will and, still there it is--that unbelievable, crippling fear. I may not be the same pianist I was seven years ago, on the other hand I have retained the same fears. If I don't approach this head-on, my nearest recital will be another roller coaster ride. I am tired of the stomach-tossing lurches and the sensation of watching myself play from above.

Is this single my problem? My personal weakness? The manifestations of my hold insecurity? Perhaps, but having observ countles performances go on wrong, I think not. I have witnessed too many performances perdition that shouldn't have. I have nervously watched pupils hit memory blocks they shouldn't have hit: they knew their music too solidly. associate students in my studios during undergraduate and graduate years had horrible memory slips they not at any time recovered from. Some may have been the comes of faulty practicing, but more [i]or[/i] less were not: I had seen these same pianists play the same speckle hundreds of times without a mistake. If this was not simply a practicing problem, then what was it?

I reckon my students they need to practice performing many times before a piece is ready to be played in public. They ne to gather their darlings siblings, parents, friends and neighbors and play their recital music above and over again. Then, those butterflies in the stomach have feeling familiar. We learn that while we can't necessarily escape those fluttering wings, we can play in spite of them. "But I realize so nervous when I have a recital," learners wail at me every year. Right. We ne to come by used to playing the piano while we are nervous, in the way that a little twinge of adrenaline cannot derail us.