The Doldrums

I have learned enough pieces at a university level (whatever that means) by now that I can recognize a pattern I go through every time I start a big new project like Gaspard, the Goldberg Variations (posts coming soon), or a larger sonata like Waldstein, Rachmaninoff Op. 36, a Schumann sonata, etc.  It always begins with the initial excitement; I pull the piece out of my bag for the first time, open it up to measure 1, set it on the piano.... the thrill!  I start to sightread it, and gradually I'll get the notes under my fingers.  (I may post something later on about learning notes, since that seems to be the single biggest frustration a lot of young pianists face, including myself, up until two or three years ago.)

I learn the notes, and if I'm smart about it (and patient, which isn't frequent), I'll work through the piece at a slower pace but focus not only on the notes but also on developing a good structure, developing a rich sound  that is appropriate to the piece, and resolving technical problems right when I first meet with them.

In a piece like Gaspard, however, the problems I face require me to develop new technique in addition to implementing the skills I have already acquired.  This means I cannot resolve the technical problems in the piece as quickly as I can learn the notes.  And as I am forging through entire oceans full of physical challenges, that is exactly when the engines give out, my excitement at learning the piece leaves me, and I find myself in all-too-familiar doldrums: able to sloppily plow through the majority of a movement at half-tempo with no motivation to do what it takes to play better.

I hit this point with "Scarbo" about a week and a half ago.  I would run through the piece twice and then call it quits, moving on to something new and exciting or something I can already play smoothly.  Last night it came to a head as I resolved to select a couple of specific spots in the 400+ measures I have already learned  and "woodshed" them, as Rombach says.  The first was the fast repeated notes at the beginning of the movement, and the second was the return of one of the themes in mm. 256-312.  I had the time to spend two or three hours on them, at the end of which I felt productive, rewarded, and satisfied.

To be clear about my practice methods, I do not condone pure repetition as a means of acquiring technique and certainly not as a means of learning a piece of music.  Every time I run through a section, when there is no way to learn it except by repetition, no matter if it is five notes or five hundred measures, I intentionally focus on something different each time; it must be interesting.  I also find that sometimes it is helpful to clarify to myself exactly what I am trying to accomplish rather than just telling myself, "it's not right yet. It's not right yet."  So I will write down my goals or simply say them out loud.  It forces the brain to recognize completely what it is I am working out.

The not-so-romantic-as-one-might-think life of the 21st century pianist.

It's a little after 10pm, and I'm here in one of the practice rooms at UNM playing bits and pieces of the 4th Chopin Ballade under tempo. I keep thinking, "why didn't I ever realize I was supposed to phrase it like this before?" It's amazing what preparing for a competition will do to you. I have learned more about phrasing on this piece in the last 12 hours that I've been here than in the last few months I've spent on the piece.

It's not my first competition, but it's my first international competition. I don't know that there's any real difference (MTNA pays more prize money by far, and it's a national competition) except that the word "international" attracts every little hotshot teenager within a few thousand miles to apply. It's the International Keyboard Odyssiad and Festival in Fort Collins, Colorado. So far it seems to be well-organized and have a lot of community support (this is the first year for the competition). We'll see. I leave tomorrow for Colorado, and I'll have a day and a half to prepare there before I perform on Saturday. That word "international" also causes some sort of unusual stress to rise up in me... It's not like I'm going to be the shame of the piano world if I don't place. But I suppose I just want to connect with the judges. The networking is far more important to me than winning or losing, for which I feel I can hardly compete with the prodigies that also were accepted. I'm sure they are nervous too; they are probably all practicing right now too.

I haven't done much of anything with Ravel the last few days for obvious reasons. More on that Monday, probably. Wish me luck! And pray.

Well, back to practice. Goodnight.