There’s a harpist dude on YouTube named Josh Layne who posts lots of fairly in-depth harp-centered lessons and dives into various pieces, and a lot of what he says goes for any instrument. I’m curious about harps (chordal, multi-line, mostly portable where “portable” is defined as “not requiring you to herniate yourself or worry about putting dents in the door to move it around”), and his videos are great watching.
Anyhow, a few tips he gives for getting things right on
the jumbo gilded cheese slicer that is the harp are extremely useful for the piano (and anything else) as well:
- Practice playing things super-slowly. Going fast lets you hide problems.
- Practice playing things quietly. Loud also lets you hide problems.
- Practice in multiple rhythms, dotted in all directions. This builds flexibility and a real awareness of the rhythm.
- Practice stressing the notes that fall on the upbeat, the “ands” of a phrase. Do this in the right hand, and your left hand will stumble.
Seriously, just do this. Over and over. And combine them in many ways. I can’t tell you how much it helps.
But at least I know how to do it now, and I can get more done now when I have less time to do it as a working adult. So I suppose now is when I need the knowledge of how to practice efficiently the most.
Nevertheless, I’m constantly struck by the way that hard things become easy when you know how to approach them. Not just when you “work hard,” but when you know how to work. When I was a kid, “practicing” meant doing it over and over and over and expecting it to get better eventually by magic or something — or at least that was the theory. It never worked, and always resulted in a crash and burn on stage. It always resulted in the out-of-control feeling of having no influence over my fate, and whether something would go right or wrong was just a matter of blind chance.
Well, not really. Under stress and on stage, it wasn’t blind chance. It was 100% chance of blowing it.
And now, when I’m supposedly “too old” to learn how to get better because “everyone knows” that the adult mind can’t learn things as well as kids, I’m suddenly burning up things I would have had no chance at as a kid. Oh, there will always be things I’m not that good at or that feel clumsy under my hands. (I’ve read Emmanuel Ax say the same thing though, so I don’t feel so bad about that.) And I won’t be playing Rachmaninoff any time soon — or ever, mostly because I still can’t force my brain to sit still on someone else’s dots long enough to learn them anymore.
But still — I’ve seen myself take a methodical, informed approach to things that were intimidating as all hell, and I’ve been able to bring them into the realm of doability or into the realm where I know that with time, I would be able to do them. I have less time and am (supposedly fatally) older and yet am better than I was as a kid.
Every time it stops being “now,” I get lousy on the viola. Every time I start thinking, “I did that already, I’ve got that,” or “I have to plan ahead for learning X,” it gets screechy and messy. The only time I am any good on the thing is when I pick it up and just concentrate on what I’m doing there and then. I guess this is part and parcel of not being “native” in an instrument.
I bought Franz Liszt’s transcriptions of the Beethoven symphonies. It looks like they started out life as blank pieces of paper that were covered in honey and buried in an anthill. Holy crap.
Oh, well. Gotta do it.
Okay. I tend to ignore the parts of my body that are not my brain, hands, or mouth. I love languages, I love thinking, and I love making stuff. The rest of me I regard as necessary peripheral crap to cart the brain, hands, and mouth around, and keep them going. Organs don’t work so well that way — you need a broader awareness of your physical self to play this thing. Either I will settle out as one of many amateur organists who aren’t very good, or my awareness of my physical self will gradually expand.
I can see why Cameron Carpenter states that dancers make good organists and why he chugs down a gallon of whole milk a day to keep from becoming underweight. Playing just these simple little pedal studies (I’m talking simple here) reminded me of the very few times in my life when I’ve been on the back of a horse and had to use muscles that I didn’t realize I had. I can easily see why a good organist at that level would need 5k Calories a day to keep from going gaunt.
I’m also becoming irritated at the placement of the Great and Swell stops. I like using my right hand on the Great and my left on the Swell, and if this were a touch-screen VPO, I could probably reverse the stop banks and get this. Instead, I’m stuck adjusting to yet one more device built the total opposite of the way I want it built. Yes yes yes, it’s a right-handed world. No kidding. After 46 years, it’s beginning to grate.
They’re getting better. At first, timing was an issue since I just wasn’t used to using those muscles in a timed sense at all, so I was all over the map. It’s gotten way better.
The shoes are interesting — I don’t walk in them at all, and I haven’t put weight on them, either. I get onto the bench, pull them on, and then remove them before getting up. They’re very narrow, but about normal for my typical shoes. I just have to get used to how they feel, and how to distinguish the normal feel of the side of the shoe on the side of my foot versus the feel of touching a pedal on the side, which indicates that I’m about to press two pedals at once.
Still poking at Keating’s “Lost,” on it, too. 🙂 Fun device. I can see why people like VPOs, though. The organ was sort of the world’s first live mixing board. Adding looping capability to that would be completely insane and in the best possible way. 🙂
I need to either cut the binding off of that Gleason book or else get a good spiral-bound book of pedal etudes. My organ shoes came in the mail (very retro-butch since I didn’t want the ones that looked like Mary Janes), and I ran into a difficulty when I went to play some of the pedal studies in Gleason and Gleason.
The book weighs enough that putting it on the music desk on the Rodgers makes the desk tilt forward and (nearly) dump the book into my lap. It’s also book-bound, so it won’t lie flat.
So I probably need to get it cut and the chapters separately bound to cut down on weight, or just find a good pedal technique study book that’s lighter and spiral-bound so I can figure out how to do scales and things the approved way.
ETA: On the other hand/foot, I did buy Joyce Jones’ “King of Instruments” … which I promptly stashed in the bench and forgot I had … Think I’ll whip it out a bit tonight and see what I can get done.