Beyond the Notes

Defying one musician's pre-concert ritual

2013-05-20T22:38:00.002-04:00

I don't typically mess around with a musician's pre-concert ritual but sometimes, as was the case a few weeks ago, I simply can't help myself. Here's what led to my moment of defiance...

A musician I was performing with had been quite unnerved at our dress rehearsal two days before our performance. I wasn't concerned at all (you can read all about my attitude towards dress rehearsals in my post, "Ditching the fortune cookie dress rehearsal") but she seemed alarmed. I had been working with her for several months not only as her collaborative pianist but also as her performance anxiety coach, and I quickly sensed that much of our good work together was at risk of being smothered by the nerves that seemed to boil over as a result of that one "bad" rehearsal. At that point I had a choice - I could keep quiet, which I suspected would only encourage her nerves to spiral downward, or I could take a risk and challenge her typical way of dealing with such a situation, hopefully bringing her to a more optimistic, calm place in time for her recital.

With some trepidation I decided to call her the morning of the recital. I casually asked her how she was doing and she mentioned that she was going through all the passages that hadn't gone well the other day with a fine-toothed comb. I'm not quite sure if she asked for my opinion on that particular tactic but I gave it anyway, in as gentle a way as I could. I suggested that she immediately stop, put down her instrument, and play something else or sit with the score and hear it in her head instead. I hesitated before saying the next thing, wondering whether or not it would be wise to continue with my next piece of advice. Since I had already started down this path I decided to go ahead and to advise her to bring with her to the recital a piece of music that has nothing to do with the performance, one that she loves to play and that feels good in every way. I told her that was how we were going to warm up before the recital. There was silence after that and then the conversation was over, leaving me with absolutely no idea how my colleague was taking my somewhat unusual idea.

Fast forward to an hour before the recital. My partner showed up without any music but clearly wanted to do something to warm up on the stage with me. I had already warned her that I might not agree to run any of the recital pieces so I asked her if she had come up with a piece that she likes to play. She mentioned a Bach slow movement from one of his sonatas. I happened to have a copy of the piano part in my bag so I pulled it out and we played, with her playing by memory. It was fascinating to watch her while we did this. At first her eyes were wide open - a sign to me that she was in a bit of a fight-or-flight mode. After a few lines, however, her eyes closed, her sound blossomed, and she was singing through her instrument. I couldn't help but respond in turn. Here was a piece of music we had never played together yet it was a moment where we were both so free and open that our individual musical selves were able to dance around one another, to merge, and then to dance around one another yet again. When we got to the end of the movement a student, who was sitting in the hall listening, looked up from the program that he was looking at and said, pointing to the program, "Wow. That was beautiful but what piece was that?" Chuckling, we told him that it wasn't a piece we had ever played together before and that it wasn't on the program. He just shook his head. We smiled.

Sensing my partner was in a better place, I decided to push just a little bit more. I told her that I wanted us to do it again, but this time to feel like we could improvise a bit on what Bach wrote. My idea was that this would encourage us both to listen to one another on an even deeper level. This exercise was taking me out of my own comfort zone, which I thought was only fair considering what I was putting my friend through, but I have to say that moment now ranks high on my list of rewarding musical experiences. By the end of the movement I had no doubt in my mind about whether or not we were ready to make music together. It was an intimate musical experience and one that I will never forget and one that brings to mind a quote of the philosopher Eli Khamarov's that I just love -

"The best things in life are unexpected because there were no expectations."

Expectations can be good to have but in my mind, when it comes to performing, too many expectations can limit the magic and synergy that can occur when performers and audience alike are playing and listening in the moment. There is no "right" or "wrong," "good" or "bad." So defy away next time you're sitting on the stage in a silent hall right before a performance. Try something different. And see what happens!

Ditching the fortune cookie dress rehearsal

2013-05-12T22:12:00.000-04:00

Does this post-dress rehearsal comment sound familiar?

"My dress rehearsal was horrible! What am I going to do?"

Speaking as someone who plays for a lot of recitals I can tell you that I hear this panic-imbued statement at the end of dress rehearsals all too often. And each time I do it kills me because these words have the power to completely sabotage months of hard work. It holds as much truth as the fortune in a fortune cookie or those little messages in those magic balls that you shake to get answers to your most pressing questions yet I've seen musicians, experienced professionals and students alike, allow the dress rehearsal to make or break the final product.

I am hear to say right here, right now, that in my personal opinion how a dress rehearsal goes is not an indication of how the final performance is going to go. Instead it's usually a reflection of...

how the day has gone leading up to the dress rehearsal. Usually we don't protect our schedule on the day of a dress rehearsal as we do the day of a performance.

of what the performer ate beforehand. Generally we aren't as thoughtful about what we put in our body pre-dress rehearsal. Bean burrito topped with queso sauce? Sure!

the time of day the dress rehearsal is being held. I recently had a rehearsal for a huge, very challenging program at 9 in the morning. Trust me - I was barely hanging on!

how much we have crammed the days leading up to the dress rehearsal. I've seen brass and wind players especially come in with their faces practically numb from over-practicing. We usually have the sense not to do this the day before a performance but not so with dress rehearsal days.

Get the picture?

Dress rehearsals are not TESTS. They are OPPORTUNITIES.

They are opportunities to practice performing. They are opportunities to experience a different (and usually much more ideal) acoustic space. They are opportunities to let go and make some music without people staring you down. They are opportunities to try out recital attire so you can figure out if they will fall down, make you trip, or cause you pain. They are not opportunities to prove whether or not you're ready to perform.

I recently had two dress rehearsals that didn't go so well, at least in the minds of the performers I was accompanying. Both contacted me in the hours afterwards in a panic, telling me that they were madly practicing everything that had gone wrong in the dress rehearsal which was causing them to panic even more. It was heartbreaking to me because I knew in both situations that the musicians were ready, at least from a musical and technical point of view. It was their minds that were causing all the trouble. I urged them both to...

put down their instruments

acknowledge the preparation they had put in up to this point

breathe

sit with their music, away from their instrument, and hear the the music in their head

play around with different musical ideas in their head

conduct while they were audiating the music

dream about the music

go back to their instrument and play slowly, easily, and comfortable, preferably music not on the recital

play difficult passages from their recital repertoire under tempo, never up to tempo, if they really felt a need to do that

play completely unrelated music that they love to play

My motivation behind this list was to help them avoid falling back into practice-room mode, where the left part of the brain is boss. I strongly believe in befriending the right brain at this point in the game because it's in the right brain where creativity and musicality can weave magic spells over our psychotic, mind-game playing other half. It's a list that I faithfully follow myself which has turned me into a musician that loves to perform. Trust me - it hasn't always been that way!

There's two more post-dress rehearsal comments I sometimes I hear and they deserve some attention as well.

"I'm so glad I had a bad dress rehearsal. Now I know my recital will go well."

"My dress rehearsal was just the way I want it to be for my recital. It's going to be perfect!"

I suppose these two are more optimistic but my problem with them is the same one I mentioned at the beginning of the post. I truly don't believe that a dress rehearsal is any indication of how a final performance is going to go. They are not linked. We can easily have a bad dress rehearsal yet have a fantastic performance yet we can have a great dress rehearsal and a disastrous performance. What does matter is the preparation that goes on beforehand, taking care of oneself physically and mentally in the days leading up to a performance and a healthy attitude and frame of mind walking onto the stage. If we walk onto the stage to perform after an ego boosting dress rehearsal and then make that inevitable mistake what happens then? Speaking from experience, that fall into reality after being deliriously confident can knock us off our feet and destroy what we thought was going to be our dream performance.

So the next time we're at a dress rehearsal, let's ditch the fortune cookies and magic balls...if we do I foresee a much rosier outlook!

Turning the light on in the darkness

2013-03-17T16:16:00.000-04:00

Last November I joined in with many other people on Facebook in a month of gratitude, posting a different status everyday giving thanks for something or someone in my life. Although it was an exercise I enjoyed and benefitted from immensely, there was one thing for which I'm exceedingly thankful that failed to find its way on my list. My excuse? The gift in question touches me in so many ways I didn't feel I could have adequately expressed the depth of my gratitude in a simple, sterile status update. This gift I've been given deserves much more. I'm not sure a blog post will even do but at this point I feel I have to put it down into words.

So here it is, with its many facets.

It starts with a reminder about where my family found itself about a year ago. My husband, last spring, received word that the university where he had been employed for 6 years had denied him tenure - one lightbulb turned off with a quick flip of a switch. Next we had to decide quickly whether or not my husband would keep teaching at the university for a seventh year before officially having to leave his position. We knew we'd have to move on at some point, the question was when. Would we turn off the next lightbulb or would we wait until the university turned it off for us. We chose to flip it off ourselves, making what darkness we did feel, at least seem self-inflicted. My husband resigned and within a few months, was done at the university.

We were faced at this point with another dilemma. It seemed to us that most people in our situation would choose to pick up and leave since we live in such a small community. We knew that there would be no way to avoid facing our past when going to the grocery store, the farmer's market, or the movie theater and we knew that I would need to continue working freelance at the university with the same faculty members that worked with my husband in order to help pay the bills. In spite of the awkwardness and some of the humility we knew we'd encounter we decided that we would stay and make a go at making our lives work in this community. In my opinion that was when our lights started turning back on.

Our lovely, entryway light fixture

A few months after making our decision to stay in Blacksburg my husband presented me with a gift that seems to have directed this stage of our life. He purchased an entryway light that I had been eyeing for months and had fallen in love with. It was decadent to say the least, especially in light of our current situation, but when I asked him why he decided to buy it he said, "I wanted a way to tell you that I am committed to staying here in this house and in this community, that I want to make it work." He also explained that the light is what people will first see when they enter our home. He wanted to continue our tradition of entertaining since we had decided that what matters most in our lives isn't our jobs or money but people and with that, our own happiness.

This past year has surprised me every time I have turned around. We have received so many incredible blessings - friends and strangers that have offered their support, encouragement, and friendship; the fact that both my husband and I can walk down the hallways at the university without shame because we are happier than we have ever been; the closeness our tiny little family has found throughout all of the decision making and adjustments to a new life; the pride and respect I feel for my husband who has bravely faced this past year with incredible peace and grace. And those make up just a tip of what I believe is a very massive iceberg that is yet to be discovered.

Does this mean everything has been a piece of cake? Certainly not. We've faced plenty of challenges and dark moments, but it seems that there has always been some sort of light keeping us on track and accepting where we currently find ourselves.

And for that constant light, no matter how small or large, I am exceedingly grateful.

There. I finally said it!

Here are the posts that I have written during our entire journey. My hope is that they might shine some light into other people's lives should they find themselves in a similar place.

Turning one's back on the tenure dragon

Replacing "success" with joy in the lives of two musicians

The cheerleader in the Green Room

2013-03-10T20:53:00.001-04:00

I am a pianist, a collaborator, an accompanist, a coach, and sometimes a teacher but did you know I'm also a cheerleader? No, I don't have pom-poms or skimpy outfits but when it comes to spirit I don't think I can be beat in the Green Room and onstage, especially when I'm accompanying someone that hasn't done a whole lot of performing in public. For me this part of my job is critical, not only because having a more calm, focused, performer is in my best interest, but also because I have a strong desire for everyone with whom I perform to experience the incredible synergy that can occur between performer and audience. In my mind, if I can help musicians enjoy performing I can help them see not only the value of sharing of themselves through performing, but also of practicing, rehearsing, and working hard beforehand. As Daniel Coyle states in his book, The Talent Code,

"If you don't love it, you'll never work hard enough to be great."

I agree wholeheartedly with this statement yet I have walked onto stages with musicians, seasoned and unseasoned, that are absolutely terrified to perform. My goal is to help turn this around one person at a time because through performing great things can happen regardless of whether or not the musician in question is on his way to becoming a professional. Successful performances lead to an incredible sense of accomplishment, an understanding of what hard work can lead to, and a connection between performer and audience. It can also prove that perfection is not what it's all about - that the audience is there with the desire to be moved or entertained in some way, not to rip apart the performer when the inevitable misplaced or out-of-tune note occurs.

So what do I have in my cheerleader's toolbelt? Here are some things my team players inevitably hear me say in the Green Room...

Have you learned your notes? Have you practiced? Have you listened to your teacher? You've done the work, trust it.

It's not going to be note-perfect so when something happens, just say to yourself, "What do you know?" and move on.

When you're in the audience what is it you most want? How do you listen to a performance? Are you listening for wrong notes or words? Or are you wanting to hear good music and to see the performer enjoying what they are doing? What makes you feel most relaxed as a member of the audience?

©Erica Ann Sipes

What do you like about this music? What do you want to say with the music? If that's what you are thinking about when you are performing the audience will walk away with a whole lot more than just a bunch of notes.

If you can create magic while you perform, that spell will enchant the audience so that those inevitable imperfections will be undetectable to the audience and at times, even to yourself.

I love this piece - it's such a great piece of music. Let's go out and enjoy it!

You're performing in a beautiful space! Go out there and listen to yourself as if you're out in the audience. Enjoy the sound!

One of my greatest rewards in my job is finishing a performance with someone, standing up to take a bow, looking over at him or her and seeing sparkling eyes and a giant smile looking back at me. When that happens I know that a seed has been planted. Regardless of whether or not they ever do another performance I am content knowing that this experience held something of value and wasn't full of the angst, disappointment, or humiliation that can so often occur, especially with young musicians.

Recently I've had the joy of having many positive experiences. Here are two that stand out in my mind...

The first one involved a junior saxophone student. The young musician is an extremely talented , hard-working young man. We've talked a bit this past year about practicing so I know he's been working on improving what he does in the practice room. A few weeks ago he gave a junior recital and as far as I know this was the first time doing an entire program by himself. It was jam-packed with difficult repertoire - even I was a bit intimidated. But in the rehearsals leading up to the performance we had talked about letting go and expressing through our playing what we love about the music. After performing the first piece, Paul Creston's Sonata, we both walked offstage grinning from ear to ear. He had played with incredible confidence and we managed to get into an unshakeable groove. After the next piece, Debussy's Rhapsody, we walked off for intermission and he said, still grinning, "I don't know what's going on with me. I just want to go back on stage and keep playing!" Needless to say I quickly reassured him that nothing was wrong. Here's what he posted later that night on his Facebook page...

"I learned a valuable lesson over these past few days: the focus shouldn't be on hitting every single note and rhythm, but instead about making music and enjoying it while you do so - all the rest will fall in place."

Bingo!

The second story is about a young singer that performed at her first departmental recital about a week ago. She was quite nervous to have to stand up in front of her peers but she was incredibly prepared and was connecting in a very moving way with one song she was singing in particular, Barber's "Crucifixion." I have performed this piece many times previously but with her interpretation I was left breathless each and every time because I had not doubt that she connected with it in a very powerful way. In spite of that, up until our last rehearsal I sensed that she was frustrated with one particular entrance in the middle that understandably stumps just about every singer I've worked with. I had stopped correcting her because I didn't want her obsessing over it at the performance. The last time we ran through it she looked at me and said, "Did I get it right?" I looked at her and said, "I'm not going to tell you because it doesn't matter. I don't want you to count, I don't want you to think, I just want you to feel because what you're doing is powerful." I then gave her my "creating magic" spiel and urged her to focus on expression at the performance. She may have still been nervous at the departmental recital - who isn't? But boy did she deliver. Even I had to catch my breath at the end. And how did she feel about it all? Here's what she said in an e-mail to me...

"Even though I messed up I was told that it was a wonderful performance by my peers - that whole expression thing must really work because The Crucifixion almost made me cry!"

For her to make herself almost cry while standing onstage for the first time in front of her peers, is a sign of some powerful magic - magic that she should be proud of!

So pom-poms or no pom-poms, I will continue cheerleading from the Green Room because who doesn't want a little magic in their lives?

A tale of surrender in Gigland

2013-03-08T15:31:00.000-05:00

I could have performed on the same stage as the incredible Bernadette Peters tonight. But here I am, sitting at home instead, writing a blog post. Before you start feeling sorry for me, let me tell you my little tale of surrender in gigland. I think you'll quickly see that I'm pretty content and relieved about how everything turned out.

It all started at the end of January. I received an e-mail from the personnel contractor of our regional orchestra with the subject line,

Bernadette Peters needs piano!!

At first I literally thought it was spam, I mean really. But after rereading the e-mail several times and gathering that it was indeed real, I was terribly excited, first of all because this was my first call to sub for this particular orchestra and second of all because we're talking Bernadette Peters!! The Bernadette Peters!!!

A private conversation with myself ensued:
"Yes!"

"No, I'm too busy!"

"But it's Bernadette Peters!"

"It's the last day of school before spring break...nothing on the calendar...it could be fun..."

Which led to, "What on earth am I thinking?!? What kind of music am I going to be expected to play?"

I called up a colleague of mine who is the symphony's regular pianist and consulted with her. Based on that conversation I decided I could do it. I accepted the gig.

Pretty soon I received music for the first half of the concert - "Seventy Six Trombones," a medley from A Chorus Line...no problem! But then I came across a lead sheet for the song, "Sing, Sing, Sing." Oh my. I was informed at this point that the music for the Peter's portion of the concert wouldn't be arriving until a few days before the rehearsal and performance.

[Insert tiny niggling of doubt.]

For some reason in spite of my increased blood pressure, I managed to convince myself that I could do this in spite of being a classical nerd with lots of love for jazz but virtually no experience with chord charts in a high pressure situation. I talked to the jazz teacher across the hall from me at work, I practiced some recommended voicings, I talked with friends on twitter, I listened to recordings of the song, I even bought two books on playing jazz piano. After a few days of working at it I still sounded like a classical pianist attempting to sound hip. It wasn't pretty. I e-mailed the conductor of the orchestra to ask what he wanted from me for that particular number, admitting that I'm not comfortable reading chord charts. No response.

[Tiny niggling of doubt starts to propogate.]

Fast forward through some nail-biting weeks until Tuesday of this week, the week of the performance. As I'm leaving work I see that an e-mail has arrived from the symphony with a portion of the Peters' music. I got a bit nauseated. They were mostly chord charts with directions I'm not exactly used to like, "A la stripper," "Charleston tempo," and "STRIDE ARP. FEEL." I'm no stripper, I've never danced the Charleston, and well, who knows what the last one means?

[Out-of-control doubt now turns into full-blown panic.]

I had absolutely no idea what to do. It was three days before the performance but I knew that I was not the person for the job. But how could I pull out so last minute? I would feel like such a failure and I would be jeopardizing any hope of subbing with the symphony again!

But then I closed my eyes and pictured the day of the concert. The more I thought about it the more I realized that this event had the potential to match some of the nightmares that I've had that have involved stages and pianos - and now Bernadette Peters.

I e-mailed the personnel contractor and asked when I might receive the rest of the Peters' music. Upon being told that I might not get it until an hour before rehearsal (7 hours before showtime) I waved the white flag. I admitted that I was uncomfortable with the situation and that I wasn't sure I was the right person for the gig. I truly wanted to die at this point! This felt a bit like professional suicide. She e-mailed back saying that she thought it was too late to find another pianist but that she could ask a colleague of mine. Knowing that this individual is incredible at this kind of playing, I asked her to please give it a try. A few hours later I got a call. He had agreed to cover for me.

[Insert overt tears and expressions of gratitude.]

I realize I am incredibly lucky. I also realize I should have never accepted the gig in the first place. I am a classically trained pianist and at least for now, that's where I belong. I've always wanted to learn how to play jazz and to read chord charts and perhaps I'll learn one of these days but for now I need to keep my feet in the land I know best, regardless of how tempting it might be to accept a gig like this one. I'd rather not turn my nightmares into reality.

So here I am finishing this blog post instead of pretending I'm someone I'm not.

And you know what? I feel great!

P.S. - Ms. Peters, stay tuned. The next time you come through town I may fit the bill. Or perhaps we could do some lieder or arias...that would be right down my alley!

Performing Schubert's "Wintereisse" in bluegrass country

2013-02-16T23:32:00.001-05:00

Image taken by Floyd resident, Jim Best, who attended our
performance and kindly shared this photo with me after the performance

I was both nervous and excited about this - a performance of Schubert's song cycle, Winterreise, in the little rural town of Floyd, Virginia, where bluegrass is the music and language of choice. Go to the main street in town on Friday nights and you'll hear your fill of bands playing both in the Floyd Country Store and out on the streets. Eat at a local eatery and you'll find bluegrass being played there too. That's not to say the locals don't appreciate anything else. They are an incredible bunch of people that seem to embrace new experiences and people. They love music, they love people, they love their town and the beautiful land where they've chosen to live...it's as simple as that. But still, "Winterreise?" Does a song cycle that lasts over an hour, sung entirely in German and without an intermission stand a chance in a town like Floyd?

The singer with whom I worked, Ed Cohn, is a local himself, a man that moved there not so long ago after studying and living a musical life in the San Francisco bay area. Since he had moved to this tiny town in southwestern Virginia, he had never shown his "classical" side to any of his friends. He had instead woven himself into the fabric of the community as the owner of a bed and breakfast, as an avid organic gardener, and as a wonderful down-to-earth citizen who seems to have fit right in.

Claiming his friends didn't know much about classical music and that he was pretty sure this would be a new experience for a lot of the local community that might attend, he made it clear to me that he wanted to present this performance in a way that would make it as comfortable as possible for those in attendance. Being a big fan and advocate for talking to the audience I volunteered to say a few words before launching into the performance. I had a feeling that whatever I chose to say could very much influence how the audience received this epic piece of music that can be a challenge for even the most seasoned classical music buff to sit through.

The day of the performance occurred just a few days after a pretty big snowfall in our area. As my husband and I took the 45 minute drive out to Floyd that day I found myself absorbed in the wintery scene in which we found ourselves. Driving through some of the most beautiful countryside, past icy streams and snow covered fields, I was struck with a parallel between the landscape in Schubert's song cycle and the one that I was witnessing through the car window. I had an indelible sense that this performance was going to be just fine - that the audience was going to walk away with something very special, not because of our performance, but because of the timeless, borderless message that "Winterreise" has to offer.

We were greeted that afternoon, in a small, unsophisticated, but intimate performing space, with about 50 people in the audience. We were both a little curious what was going to happen with two young girls that came in separately with their mothers. One girl looked to be about 7 years old, the other was perhaps a little bit older, with Downs Syndrome. When the time came, I spoke for about 10 minutes (you can read the gist of what I said here) and then our journey together began. Just as my performance was several years ago, this too was an unbelievable experience and I was genuinely inspired by the sense I was getting not only by Ed but also by the hushed audience. I was amazed at how attentive folks were from beginning to end and further surprised after taking our bows, by an older man that stood up and raised his hand to speak. After everyone had turned their attention to him he said,

"If someone had told me 17 years ago that I'd be sitting here in this spot today listening to 'Winterreise' I would have said, 'That's great!' but I wouldn't have believed them."

What a comment! And his wasn't the only one. Just about everyone stayed afterwards and passed on comments that completely erased my doubts as to why we were there performing that particular work that afternoon. There was the lady in her 80's who, with tears in her eyes and a heavy southern accent told me how difficult those poems were, especially at her time in life, but that she was so glad to have been challenged in that way. There was the mom of the seven year old who rattled off a list of all the things she heard in the music with excited, sparkling eyes, her daughter nodding her head all the while, albeit with sleepy eyes. There was the man in his 80's that shared with me all the musical groups he plays with in the area just for fun. He's the type of fellow I imagine will die with his instrument in his hands and a smile on his face.There was the man who blew me away with the most poetic description of how the performance affected him. Sharing much the same thing in an e-mail he sent the next day, he wrote,

"...the piano had the last word creating without fault a musical picture frame for each piece which intensified the message with silence of pure gold. That frame was a window, a door through which my heart and breath were invited to become one with the story, no longer observer, but participant, no longer of performers but companions. When I got home I could not separate from the story: without taking off my coat I stoked the fire and went back to the snow to try my arm on for size, the hills, the same breathing, the heartbeat of an awakened person accompanying me from the 1800's."

He concluded by sharing how he found himself connecting some of his own personal struggles with those of the character in the song cycle. By the end of his e-mail I was in tears. Everyone I spoke to that day seemed to be glad that they had been part of the experience with us and it meant the world to me to hear their words and reactions. It gave the performance purpose that extended way past mere entertainment or cultural experience. And although it was intended as a musical offering for them, they ended up bringing me an even more valuable offering...

Themselves, in all their bluegrass-loving glory.

Thank you, Floyd! I hope to make some music with y'all soon.

Glissandi aren't for wimps...until now!!

2013-02-07T22:41:00.000-05:00

For some reason I've managed to avoid glissandi for most of my life but in the past few months I have had to face them with terrifying frequency, so much so that I was developing quite the phobia of them because of the incredible pain and messiness I was experiencing.

Too many glissandi = painful fingers = one very unhappy pianist

It started with being enlisted to play the harp parts on an electric keyboard for a local production of the Nutcracker in December. I had such romantic notions of being able to imitate a harp player, ripping my fingers across the keyboard with the grace that a harp player has when ripping off the glissandi that are sprinkled throughout the score. Unfortunately it didn't take many exuberant attempts on my part before I found myself wincing in pain and getting a pang of nausea every time I saw another one coming. It wasn't long after then that blood was drawn which created a bit of a precarious situation. At intermission I found myself a mess in more ways than one. I managed to scrounge up some bandaids from some of the little mice's mothers backstage. I thought the bandaids would work but they were no match and were completely shredded by the end of the performance.

Over the next few days I tried every type of bandaid I could find. I tried Super Glue. I tried New Skin. Nothing helped. I somehow made it through all four Nutcracker performances but my fingers were not pretty by the end.

With all this said, imagine my delight when I returned to work recently only to discover that many of the saxophonists I'm accompanying are playing pieces with glissandi in them for their recitals. Ahhh, lovely.

I thought the break would have helped my fingers but nope. The minute I went for my first you-know-what, I saw blood start pool at the base of my nail. What to do? What to do? Should I leave the glissandi out? No, I can't do that! They are so perfect for the pieces and I can't let these students down.

It was as I was driving to a performance recently and passed a CVS that an idea popped into my head. Are you ready for this?

Corn relief pads. Yep, that's right!

I quickly pulled into the CVS parking lot, ran inside and perused the corn-relief aisle - I first for me. It was fascinating. There must be lots of corn sufferers out there! Anyway, my eyes eventually settled on this...

My new love!

They weren't cheap but we're talking about my fingers! These little strips are truly amazing. It's like a clear bandaid but the pad that covers the corn (or brutally damaged finger) is filled with gel. Really cool, comfy gel. Ahhhhh...

So I tried one of these that same afternoon. Felt great for the first glissando but then my fingers started sticking to the keys. It wasn't long before I started seeing and feeling little globules of shredded bandaid all over. OK, that didn't work!

Guiltily cleaning off the keys post-performance that day, I thought back to a conversation I had with a colleague of mine about my glissandi travails. She had mentioned the possibility of using electrical tape instead of a bandaid. Bring on a lightbulb moment!

Combine the Dr. Scholl's corn pain relief strips with...

Electrical tape even comes in pretty colors!

...and you've got yourself some heavy duty glissando busters!

The pianist's version of a manicure!

I just got back from a dress rehearsal where I put this little combination to a test and I have to say, I had the most fun I've ever had while playing those glissandos. Not one once of pain, no nausea.

I am a wimpy pianist no more!!

So bring on those glissandi - I beg you!!!

And dear Dr. Scholl's, please, please, don't stop making these gems. The piano world needs you! If you need a spokesperson, I'd be happy to oblige.

If any pianists have any other suggestions or solutions for glissandi issues, please do share!

"You expect me to say something?!?"

2013-02-03T21:56:00.000-05:00

© Ogerepus - Fotolia.com

When I ask someone I'm performing with if they're going to say a few words to the audience before launching into the music the response tends to be one of bewilderment, panic, or both.

"Talk? In front of the audience? It's bad enough I have to perform! I can't talk too!!"

I get it, I really do. I've had my share of stage fright through the years. But here's the thing - I actually believe that talking to our audiences can be a key to quieting our nerves. It is also, in my opinion, a key to making more people in the audience more comfortable and ready to receive whatever it is we're about to give to them.

At the university where I teach and accompany the students perform frequently in departmental recitals. I struggle a bit internally, especially when a singer gets up to perform, even more so when what he or she is singing is in a foreign language. Perhaps because of time and budgetary constraints the translations to the songs being sung are often not included in the program. The titles aren't even translated into English so for the most part the people in the audience don't have any clue as to what a given song is about. In my mind this is a great way to shoot ourselves in the foot! We're not at a music conservatory where every piece performed is something that everyone in the audience grew up listening to - most of the students have come from small, rural communities. This is an opportunity for the students to hear some great music for the first time but how can they even begin to enjoy it when they haven't a clue what the words being sung mean? And how does this effect the performer? Here we have a young singer braving the stage, staring out at an audience full of their colleagues looking back with blank faces. How rewarding an experience can that be for the singer? How rewarding can it be for the audience? Even I don't care to listen to singing when I don't know what I'm listening to and I've been listening to classical music all of my life!

Oh my. Sorry. Deep breaths. Obviously it really gets to me.

So what can we do? Every time I play for a singer in a situation where no translation is being provided I suggest that the singer come up with a one sentence explanation for what their song is about that can be presented before beginning the song. When done well it can not only help the singer focus, it also helps the audience to have something to grasp onto. It can be like a piece of scenery to help place everyone in the same place at the same time and it breaks down a bit of the wall that can so often occur between singer and audience, especially when a foreign language is involved. Although it's rare that a student will get up the nerve to take my suggestion, when they do I find it always makes a difference in a positive way. The faces in the audience soften and take on a more receptive look, they respond more to subtleties in the singer's expression...sometimes it can be downright magical and all because of a handful of words.

These days I almost always say something before I perform. The more I do it, the more addicted I become to addressing the audience because so many incredible experiences have come from me reaching out to the audience in some way. One of the most interesting and unexpected results that has happened is that there have been several times when I've had audience members stand up to ask questions or to share something personal about how the music has affected them at the end of a performance before everyone has dispersed. This has happened to me here in the states but it also happened to my husband and I in Germany. It has meant that the audience, at the end of a performance, has felt like they can stay and chat rather than to flee the minute the last note is played. It has meant that I get immediate feedback and connection rather than having to face the lonely, quiet Green Room by myself. It has meant that music-making has become a social activity, which is in my mind, the way music is supposed to be. And the beauty of it all is that with each wonderful experience like this I have grown to love performing more and more - nerves no longer have a hold of me because my eagerness to communicate musically and personally is greater. Like I said earlier in the post, it's gotten downright addictive.

In case you were wondering, no, I am not fearless when it comes to public speaking. I get butterflies every time I go out to talk to my audience so it's something I am working on developing. But I figure I'd have butterflies anyway. I may as well let the butterflies escape while I'm talking so that by the time I sit down to perform they've had a chance to fly off somewhere else. And the rewards are just so great - I can't not do it anymore.

So the next time you perform, I challenge you to give talking a try. Keep it short, keep it simple, keep it sincere and watch what can happen with that little act of bravery.

I'd love to hear other people's stories about talking to the audience! I know there must be good ones out there and it would be a great way of encouraging others to give it a try.

A heart-to-heart about accompanying and collaborating at the piano

2013-01-31T22:21:00.000-05:00

Dear potential piano accompanists and/or collaborative pianists,

First of all, I need to say that I absolutely love what I do. I am thankful to be doing what I am on a daily basis, to be working with other musicians, performing great music, never running out of music to learn and experience, and getting paid to literally and figuratively "play."

You may have noticed that I have addressed this little heart-to-heart to both accompanists and to collaborative pianists. What's the deal with that? What's the difference? Is there a difference? Who do I think I am?

I consider myself both an accompanist and a collaborator, but usually not interchangeably. When I am working with students I am an accompanist - I see myself as a combination of pianist, coach, and cheerleader. In this role I often find myself feeling like I'm a bit of a broken record -

"Your rhythm isn't quite right here."

"Try this way of hearing the interlude so that you can come in at the right time."

"This section needs a little bit more work."

"Let's think of how we can pick a good tempo for this piece."

As with any teacher, I have to remind myself that in dealing with different young musicians every day I'm going to be repeating the same things over and over again because there are a litany of issues that just about every musician needs to learn about. What is important for me to remember, lest I become terribly irritated and annoyed, is that I shouldn't blame the students when they need to be reminded about these things. I fare much better if I expand my role to incorporate some basic coaching during rehearsals and I consider it an honor to be able to walk beside these students and their teachers in order to help them learn all there is to learn about making music. Sure I have some bad days where I grumble and groan internally from the keyboard but more often than not that isn't the case, especially when the payoff is watching a young musician mature enough musically to enable me to straddle the fence between being an accompanist and being a collaborator.

So when do I consider myself a collaborative pianist? When I am making music with someone else in such a way that I feel we are communicating with one another almost solely through our music-making. Coaching morphs into the sharing of ideas and cheerleading gets dialed down to offering whatever support is helpful for the musician in question - it's usually a much more subtle type of interaction. In some ways I think collaborating is easier for me than accompanying because there comes with performing with colleagues more of a sense of instant self-gratification and because the repertoire being performed with colleagues tends to be more challenging and inspiring. But at the same time collaborating also comes with more pressure and more expectations.

As both an accompanist and a collaborative pianist I feel I'm getting the best of both worlds. Does this mean every pianist choosing which path to take should go down both like I have? Certainly not. I think there are many pianists that don't feel drawn to walking young musicians through rough music-making and bringing them into a better place by performance time. That's ok! But I think it's good to know when that's not what motivates a pianist. In such cases the collaborative path might be a better path to go down. And when we find a pianist that has a heart for working patiently beside young musicians that skill should be nurtured and encouraged. A gifted accompanist has the power to patiently encourage, inspire, and grow a love for music in others and that's a gift that we can never have too much of.

With that said, please do enjoy exploring the possibilities! Hope to see you there.

Your fellow accompanist/collaborative pianist (and proud of it!),

Erica

Practicing as a kid - the carrots that worked for me

2013-01-24T21:27:00.004-05:00

As a professional musician who works with a lot of kids, I am frequently asked by parents, especially those who claim they know nothing about music, about practicing. How much should their child be practicing every day? How can they be encouraged (or made) to practice? Should their child be rewarded for practicing every day? Should there be consequences for not practicing? Should the parent sit in on all of their child's practice sessions? If they should, how much do they help out? I don't think there are simple answers to any of these questions because each child is unique, each teacher has different expectations and ways of dealing with practicing, and because each relationship between parent and child is different. Age, independence, personality, and experience of every young musician also makes a difference in what we can expect.

I may not have a lot of answers to these questions but I can assure you that I do have a lot of personal experience. Perhaps some glimpses of the not-so-inspired and the more inspired moments in my own journey with practicing will provide some reassurance, warnings, and ideas that will come in handy when the inevitable practice battles begin.

Not-so-inspired moments:

Reading books while practicing - Nope, I'm not talking about books with music notes in them, I'm talking picture books, homework, whatever I could get my hands on. Our piano happened to have a wall of books right behind the piano bench so all I had to do when I got bored was turn around, grab a book, plunk it over my music on the music rack, and voilá, instant relief for the doldrums. I could repeat the same passages over and over again with the metronome ticking which satisfied my mother who was usually listening from upstairs, while I satisfied my need to do something more entertaining. Productive? Nope, definitely not in terms of learning to play the piano. Repetition is a helpful and necessary practice tool, but mindless repetition takes entirely too long to be effective and runs the risk of allowing bad habits and mistakes to creep in while you're not looking.

The day I quit playing piano - For a while when I was growing up I took both piano and cello lessons. I guess I was having a difficult time keeping up with my practicing because one day my mother, exasperated by the situation, lost her temper and told me that if I couldn't handle both instruments I should quit one or the other. Realizing that this was a wonderful moment for me to assert my teenage independence, I surprised us both by shouting, "OK, I will! I'm going to quit piano right now." My mother, not quite believing I was serious, told me to call my piano teacher. I willingly obliged, beginning a several year stint without the piano in my life at all. Although I consider this a moment of pride in some respects, I also regret that we couldn't find better way to solve my time management problem.

And now for some more inspired moments:

Stickers on my music - My first piano teacher would put a sticker on my music when she felt I had accomplished what needed to be accomplished. To this day I remember how proud I felt when it was sticker time. I even remember one that she used - a tiny, rectangular one that had the image of a kitten walking on a keyboard. What I wouldn't give to have a book of those right now - it might inspire me to get through learning my music a little faster!

The "Mr. Metronome" game - Another piano teacher used to play this little game with me when I was having a difficult time playing as slowly as I needed to in order to play accurately. He would take the metronome out and set it at a slow tempo. If I could play a certain passage sticking with Mr. Metronome I would get a point. If I strayed and played faster than him, he got a point. For some reason anthropomorphism did wonders for me when it came time to practice.

Teachers that I respected and wanted to please - I loved and respected all of my music teachers growing up. The only reward I needed from them was knowing that they were pleased with the work I was doing. The only consequence that was effective was feeling like I had let them down.

Parents that rarely criticized or critiqued - Perhaps I'm blocking something out, but I remember my parents mostly refraining from making comments about my practicing, especially during my practice time. My mother would ask me if I had practiced if she knew I hadn't touched my instrument, but she didn't get much more involved than that, with the exception of the moment I described earlier. What I remember from my father is that he would often remark about how much he enjoyed hearing me practice. That meant the world to me and I imagine it inspired me to practice whenever he was home.

Music camps - I started going to music camps in the summer at a pretty young age. At first they were short ones that I attended with my mother as a chaperone but it wasn't long before I was flying across the country with some of my cello teacher's other students, to go to camps where practicing was built into the schedule. One such camp, the Meadowmount School of Music, required that we practice 5 hours a day, from 8:30 until 12:30pm and from 5-6pm on weekdays. I remember not liking the routine but when I got back home after weeks of that schedule, I moved up from the last stand in our youth orchestra to the second stand. It was at that point that I realized how much regular, concentrated practice can make a difference. Music camps are often expensive and require parents to let go of their children for a week or weeks at a time, but the experience can provide young musicians with an invaluable opportunity to learn how to practice and to concentrate on music surrounded by others that are pursuing the exact same thing. This is often not the case during the school year.

Celebrations after performances - I don't remember my parents ever bribing or rewarding me in order to get me to practice. What I do remember are the trips to the ice cream parlor or the meals out after concerts, auditions, and other important performance milestones. We didn't do it all the time and they weren't large affairs, rarely involving more than just our family, but for me they were like the kitten on the keys stickers - they gave me a way to celebrate the many hours of practice and preparation with my family, friends, and teachers, who were always so supportive of me.

In writing this list I am realizing how fortunate I was growing up and it makes me incredibly thankful for my parents, teachers, and coaches. Finding ways to encourage a young musician to practice regularly can be a daunting task but I do believe it can and should be done whenever possible in order give music a chance to take hold of a musical child's mind.

So let's go find some healthy carrots!

Finding courage in the movie theater, the practice room, and on the stage

2013-01-15T22:12:00.000-05:00

Combat de la rue de Rohan le 29 juillet 1830,
painted by Hippolyte Lecomte
Image from Wikimedia Commons

It's amazing to me how truths that I need to be reminded of step right into my path just when I need them. This past weekend is a case in point. The truth I had no chance of escaping this time?

Courage in the past, courage in the present, and courage in the future - no matter when it takes place, it is something that directs us, changes us, inspires us.

It all started innocently enough. My husband and I had decided that we wanted to see the movie, Les Misérables before we found ourselves suddenly swimming in the craziness of the spring semester - we were seeking some calm before the storm, I suppose. Having seen the musical several times years ago I was going along just fine with the storyline, not needing any kleenex until we got to the scene where all the characters sing the group number, "One Day More." It's a powerful scene - so much determination, the gathering and uniting of the peoples' will from so many different walks of life, the incredible music...it's enough to sweep anyone into the emotion of it all. I was there too with memories I hadn't thought of for quite some time - memories of an episode in my life that has since reminded me of all that I have accomplished and of all that I'm capable of doing.

In 1994, when I was an undergraduate pursuing a piano performance degree, I was offered a several month stint to be a pianist in two restaurants, one in San Francisco and one in Interlaken, Switzerland, whose waiters were also wonderful Broadway, jazz, and operatic singers. First courageous moment in this act of my life was when I decided, at the age of 21 to take a hiatus from my undergraduate studies to do this - I think many of my classmates and professors thought I was more than a little foolish. My time in San Francisco was no problem, it was when I got to Switzerland that I found myself thinking I had made a big mistake. The singers, who had come from the San Francisco restaurant beforehand and had already been working in Interlaken for over a month before I came, were older than me, the managers of the restaurant claimed that they didn't realize my boss, who had been the pianist before my arrival, was leaving only to be replaced by "a woman - a young woman." (I'm guessing you can imagine the tone of voice that was used.) Ugh. It was not a good start and I didn't really know that I was going to be able to pull myself up what seemed like a really steep hill. During a rehearsal one afternoon it became pretty apparent that the singers really wished that they had the music for the song, "One Day More" from Les Misérables. After failing to find the sheet music (remember, this was back in the 90's) I decided that this was my chance. After living in my apartment as a hermit for the first part of my time there, too afraid and shy to venture out on my own, I suddenly had the courage to find a store that sold manuscript paper, bought a tape player and a recording of the musical, and spent days transcribing the music. This was no easy task for me - I had never been wiz at music theory or at dictation, but I did it. And the day I presented it to the singers during a rehearsal? Oh my. From then on "One Day More" became one of our signature numbers with it always ending with one of the singers standing on a table waving a tablecloth in place of a French flag. And after I had stretched myself in multiple ways to get the job done I had no problems hopping on a train to have an adventure on my own, I didn't hesitate to walk into a store and try out my minimal knowledge of German, and I finally found my voice when dealing with the managers at the restaurant.

But isn't life odd? I had all but forgotten all of this until we were sitting in that dark movie theater and the song started.

Why do we forget these important moments? Why don't we take them with us wherever we go?

The same night we had seen the movie, I found an e-mail in my inbox with Dr. Noa Kageyama's latest post - "How Can We Develop a More Courageous Mindset?" * I couldn't help but chuckle. "Here we go!" I thought. I walked away from the post thinking back on all of the other courageous things I have done in my life and like Dr. Kageyama, I too found it pretty "mind-blowing." What we are capable of is astounding and inspiring. And yes, what we are all capable of doing is amazing too but I think I so often miss being amazed by what I've done, am doing, and can do by myself. Why not regularly review where we've come from, how much we've learned, and where we might go next?

Maybe this all sounds a bit egotistical and self-centered. But it seems to me that as musicians, as artists, most of us spend an awful lot of time staring at ourselves under a magnifying glass in an effort to detect the imperfections, to improve whatever we can improve. It's hard to see courage through such microscopic investigation so I'm thinking that it can't hurt to get a different view now and then. You never know where it might lead.

As for this last weekend, I've learned my lesson for now. I am facing an insane few months with 20 recitals scheduled, each with different programs. Truthfully I've been fretting about whether or not I've bitten off more than I'm capable of. But after watching young, passionate men and women face overwhelming odds at the barricades in France, and after reflecting on all the projects I never thought I'd conquer but did, I will walk into the fray with the anticipation of being able to look back on it all sometime in the future with a nod of acknowledgement that I met my courage yet again and had a heck of a good time doing it!

I'll see you on the other side.

* If you haven't read Dr. Kageyama's blog, "The Bulletproof Musician" yet, you really should - it's fabulous!

Visions of sugarplums and synethizers dancing in my head?

2013-01-10T22:11:00.002-05:00

A while back our little family witnessed a musical crime that ended in us leaving the scene before the performance was done. Unfortunately we were privy to another a few weeks ago, this time in New York City.

The scene of the crime? The New York City Ballet's production of Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker."

I'm not talking about the murder of the hideous mouse king...on stage...with a shoe and a sword. And no, I'm not talking about the abduction of Marie from her cozy home to the world of the Sugarplum Fairy. The crime I'm talking about wasn't a fictional crime, it was a work of non-fiction. Get out your notebook and take notes. Here's what happened:

The first act was magical - the beautiful hall, the excited children all dressed in their fancy holiday dresses taking it all in with wide eyes, the costumes, the sets, the magical growing Christmas tree, and the wonderful orchestra. I was on cloud nine as I alternated between watching what was happening onstage and watching my daughter's radiant face. We got through the battle scene, breathless but triumphant, and found ourselves on the verge of being swept off to the snow-laced forest along with the Nutcracker and Marie when all of a sudden my head couldn't help but stare in confusion at the orchestra pit. At one of the most magical moments of the entire ballet, at least in my opinion, where a childrens' choir typically sings a simple but glorious line repeatedly, the New York City Ballet had for some reason swapped out the live singers and replaced them with a synthesizer player! Normally it's hard to upset me when it comes to performances and I don't like to be critical of anyone making music but this particular infraction completely pulled me out of my happily transfixed state.

Now I admit that a few weeks earlier I had played the celesta and harp part on a synthesizer at a local production in southwest Virginia and there was no choir used then either. I wasn't really content about that either but I realized the challenges that come with pulling that off in such a small community. But in New York City? Really? In the famous Balanchine production that is done year after year to sold out audiences and that is available on DVD and that we've watched time and time again with our daughter?

I understand that the economy isn't in great shape right now and that everyone is struggling. Perhaps a children's choir seems frivolous in light of where we are as a country right now. Maybe there's an issue with the unions or perhaps something fell through at the last minute. What I do know is that everyone in my family was shocked when we got to that spot and didn't hear that unreproducible sound of children's voices. I imagine that there were others in attendance that also noticed the difference. And although I wouldn't say it ruined the whole performance because it is, after all, an incredibly stunning production, it certainly hasn't left my mind.

So what are some possible solutions?

Donors could be asked to sponsor a children's choir?
The audience could be taught before the show how to sing the part. (It's not that hard!)
The orchestra could sing while playing?
A recording of a children's choir could be used?
Music students, amateurs, or professional musicians that are looking for things to do could volunteer their time?

I have to imagine that there is a better solution than having someone dress in a tux and come to each and every performance to play that one part on the synthesizer. As a synthesizer colleague I venture to guess that playing that part was just as painful for the player as it was for us in the audience. So why do that to everyone? Why not splurge in the name of the holidays, New York City, and great ballet? Then I we wouldn't all have sugarplums and synthesizers dancing in our heads.

Think again! Destroying judgemental mental tapes while performing

2012-12-29T22:43:00.002-05:00

"I can't believe you missed that!"

"What kind of musician do you think you are?"

"You don't deserve to be up here!"

"I can't believe they're paying money to hear you!"

"You should have practiced that part more!"

Sound at all familiar? I think most musicians have had tapes like these run through their head at some point during a performance. In my experience they can completely destroy a performance, not only for myself but also for the audience. These tapes can pull everyone out of the music. They make the focus on ourselves even though in those moments that's the last thing we want.

So what can we do when we make that inevitable first mistake in a performance and one of those tapes starts playing?

In an earlier post I wrote about dealing with performance anxiety I mentioned creating an alternative, non judgemental tape to quickly turn on as soon as one of the negative ones pops up. Mine, for instance is, "SING!" (Yes, it needs to be capitalized.) I repeat this word over and over again until I start singing the music in my head while I'm playing. If I'm accompanying someone, I sing their line; if I'm playing solo I sing the melody. What I have discovered is that when I do this there's no way my mind can come up with anything else - it's too busy with the act of singing. Whether it takes me a few measures or a few pages - heck, even a whole movement to work, it never fails to pull me away from focusing on myself and immersed back into the music.

In my practice session today I discovered a variation of this technique that can be nurtured in the practice room and carried onto the stage when it's time to perform. When I am learning a new piece of music I work in small chunks, identifying from the get-go what patterns there are in the music. The patterns can be related to harmonies, melodic movement, repeated motives...I try to make sense out of the notes on the page so that they belong together and are no longer individual notes on the page. This makes the process of learning the notes much quicker, infuses musicality into my practicing, and gives me something to think about the entire time I'm practicing so that I don't get sucked into the land of the practice doldrums. It prevents me from doing that mindless, rote practicing that I engaged in for so much of my life and that requires way too many repetitions to make any progress in a realistic timeframe. It's also in those mindless practice sessions that those judgemental mental tapes can be born and developed to a harmful degree. Our minds have to have something to do, right?

Right. But why not give our brains something more productive to think about. Starting in the practice room, why not feed our brains information that we can use even when we are performing? Distractions are inevitable when we're on stage but when I have these mental tapes I created in the practice room playing that narrate what's going on in the music it's less likely.

If you're curious about this process I go through to learn new music, here is a video of today's practice session. I tried to narrate my thought process as much as possible - hopefully you can pick up on some of that.

Video streaming by Ustream

Next time you find your mind not treating yourself with respect, think again!

Thankful for my migraine?!

2012-11-20T11:46:00.002-05:00

That's correct, believe it or not. This week of Thanksgiving I am truly thankful for the migraine I have right now. But rest assured, I have a good reason.

I am thankful because this migraine was my choice this time.

In August my dad sent me yet another link to an article about migraines. This one was about common food and beverage triggers. Quite honestly I was not so sweet in my response at first. Ah, yes, here is is...

"Thanks, Dad. Most of those I had heard about. It's so discouraging to me. Basically I should only eat vegetables and water since a lot of people I know also cut out anything with gluten. I just don't know if I'm willing to completely change my diet. Tough. But it's good to be reminded of all this so thank you."

Hmmm, that actually doesn't sound so bad but I assure you that what was going on in my heart was not quite so tame. I believe my exact feelings were, "You've got to be kidding! I'm miserable as it is - I am not going to start thinking about every little thing I put into my mouth. No way!"

My strong reaction lasted until the next time I was struck with an intense migraine. It was then that I decided that perhaps it was time to give the migraine trigger diet an honest go.

I am thankful that I decided to take the plunge and that my family was so supportive.

Using lists such as this one, which is actually based around knowing the levels in tyramine in foods, I stripped my diet of everything that could be a trigger. (If you want to learn more about tyramine in connection with migraines, here is one article.) It didn't take long for my migraines to disappear almost entirely. I still had some thanks to hormones, but it was an incredible relief to be virtually migraine free and to realize that food could indeed have been a factor this entire time. And yes, at this point my eye-rolling at my dad stopped. Feeling 100% more energetic, excited, and motivated I now use one day out of the weekend to add one potential trigger back into my diet to test it. If I end up with a migraine within about 24 hours (triggers can take up to 48 hours to cause a migraine), I cross that particular item off my list of safe foods. Some of my discoveries have been pretty sad - any sort of aged cheese, anything with MSG, wine, bananas (it's those stringy things in between the peel and the fruit - incredibly high in tyramine!), and the most devastating of all - PEANUT BUTTER! This process of discovery is slow since I am only willing to have a migraine once a week so I can only test one item a week, but wow, it's mind-blowing to me. It's no wonder that I was constantly battling migraines!

Yes, my diet right now is very limited. And yes, it's not very exciting. Eating out at restaurants? Hah! Not really possible right now. But isn't that such a first-world problem that isn't worth crying about?

To think of all the trips to migraine clinics hours away, the repeated dilemma of whether or not I needed an MRI, the many attempts to find a doctor that would listen and medicine that would work, the battles against debilitating side effects of medication, the dollars we shelled out to pay for prescriptions when I had reached our insurance company's approved amount, the days and nights wasted with me buried under the covers, the opportunities to build even more wonderful memories with my family while I was being tormented by my head, the performances I spent trying to break through migraine fog and pain...and not one of my doctors insisted that I try a diet like this to identify triggers! I understand that it's difficult for them to think of everything especially when they only see me every so often but oh my heavens! If only someone had demanded I do that if I wanted to continue getting their help.

But better late than never and ultimately it is my own responsibility. My journey is not done but my life is definitely changing. I am remembering who I am again and discovering all that I am capable of doing with a clear mind. When I do get a migraine now it is much easier to get rid of it, sometimes not even requiring drugs. If just one migraine sufferer reads this post and decides to try this approach I will be so glad. And if it works for him or her, oh my, that would be the best.

In closing, why am I thankful for today's migraine? Because I chose to take this one on last night when I was eating at a friend's house. I sat down to the meal knowing that I had a free day today and that I haven't had to take my medication for a week - there would be no risk of having a rebound migraine because of taking too much medicine in a short period of time. I wanted to enjoy last night without being careful about everything I put into my mouth. So I did and it was an enjoyable evening. As I consequence, yes, I got a migraine this morning but this time I greeted it with a nod of acceptance, a dose of medicine, and a "good-bye." It completely disappeared in the two hours it took to write this post.

Today I shall eat carefully and thoughtfully because I choose not to get a migraine tomorrow.
Who knows what I'll do on Thanksgiving. What I do know is that it will be my choice.

Choice. What a change of pace - a welcome change of pace for which I am thankful.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

Calling all potential piano collaborators, a.k.a. young pianists

2012-10-19T20:59:00.002-04:00

Young pianists, this post is for you!

Think piano collaborators are pianists that couldn't quite cut it in the solo world? Do you picture the demure, quiet, accompanist of long ago that silently shuffled to the piano and played in the shadows of the "real" artists?

Well think again! I'm a little biased of course, but I love doing what I do. And here's the thing - we need more young pianists that are interested in going down this path. We need for you to start doing things now that will help you acquire the skills that make for a great collaborator. Now is the time to start playing for friends that sing and play other instruments. Now is the time to sightread duets with your teacher or a friend on a regular basis to pump up your sightreading skills. Now is the time to get a taste for the fun and satisfaction that can be had in this great role.

So what's so great about it? I was hoping you'd ask. Here's what I love about being a collaborator:

I get to perform all the time. During the school year that sometimes means several times a week.
There are opportunities to travel all over the world as a choir's or musician's pianist. Accompanying choirs and singers has taken me to Switzerland, Asia, Russia, and the Czech Republic.
There is great value in having to play pieces that I don't think I'm going to like. More often than not I end up liking them by the time a performance comes around. (There's a good life lesson in there - give the piece a chance, take the time to get to know it, and end up loving it.)
I get to perform the same pieces over and over again which gives me the opportunity to keep improving. Of course it's never perfect, so I'm never bored!
I can't easily or responsibly back out of a project when I discover a piece is more difficult than I thought it was going to be. I have no choice but to make it work and usually it ends up being all right. That leaves me with a very good feeling and raises my opinion of what I think I can handle. Sometimes this is scary, but it's also exciting and empowering.
I get to play and work with others. That might not be everybody's cup of tea but I love the interaction and the communication that can happen between two musicians, with or without words.
Sitting in other peoples' lessons opens up so many more worlds. I've learned so much about the various instruments and what it takes to play them. It's a an education that you are paid to receive. (There's more about this in my post, "The value and fun in being a sponge-like collaborator.")
I get to perform without the stress of having to deal with memorization, which doesn't happen to be my strong-suit.
I still play solo piano music when I want to and when I'm asked. With all the playing I do I am always in good shape technically.
I play music that is just as wonderful and demanding as solo piano music. Sure there's the easy music too that I can do in my sleep but there's plenty of challenging music as well that would give a solo pianist a run for his or her money.
I get to work with young musicians on a regular basis without bearing the responsibility of being a primary teacher.
I don't think I'll ever run out of music to learn.
I can work as a freelance pianist or I can try to get a job as part of an institution or organization.
Collaborating allows for some moments to swoop in and be the heroine for the day. We have to be careful how much we do this because saving the day too often can sometimes lead to being taken advantage of and to some uncomfortable situations. But most of the time I find it pretty thrilling and satisfying to know that I've saved what could have been a not-so-pleasant performance.
I love the opportunity to work with young people. I figure it's my chance to keep music flowing in this crazy, wired world of ours.
Every once in a blue moon I get to play for a masterclass that's truly for a master. And in those classes I sometimes get to accompany them as they're demonstrating. Even if it's only for a handful of measures there's something pretty thrilling about playing with someone that seasoned and talented. I'm not one for getting autographs but I'll take a musical autograph any day.

I'm sure I'm leaving things out in this list. If any fellow collaborators want to chime in with some others, please feel free to leave them in the comments section.

The world needs more good, dedicated piano collaborators so sleep on this list and wake up ready to grab another musician with whom you can play. If you're like me you'll never look back. And if you need any more convincing, check out the sidebar on the right-hand side of the blog that says, "Blog posts about accompanying/collaborating." I have had plenty to say about the topic.

Now get to it! Start thinking outside the box, grab a partner, and play!

Thinking aloud about reading and sightreading music

2012-10-18T22:32:00.004-04:00

Teaching.

It's like a playground for the mind that's always evolving and this past week has taken me to a completely new playground - one that I'm just seeing a tiny glimpse of but that I'm so very eager to explore.

The class in question is the accompanying class at Radford University. Not to be confused with accompanying classes at most institutions, this class is one that is a required, year-long course that is taken mostly by vocal music education majors in their junior or senior years. Most of the students have not taken piano lessons before and have only gone through the required group piano classes. My job is to help them get to a level where they can accompany singers, either in a choral or solo setting, at a basic level. This has proven to be a great challenge to me since they really aren't pianists. In a post I wrote last year, Reflections on the first year of teaching piano sightreading, I discussed some of what I had discovered during my first semester of teaching in detail. In today's post I'll move on from those observations to draw attention to one interesting experiment I've conducted this week and its surprising (at least to me) results.

First, here is what I've been frustrated with that I'm trying to tackle:

The students read note-by-note, note value-by-note value which makes reading piano music especially challenging, tension producing and tiring.
Because they feel they have to concentrate so hard on each and very note they rarely, if ever, look ahead in the music.
They count out loud in such a way that they aren't really internalizing a constant beat, shifting instead between feeling the larger beats and the subdivisions depending on the rhythms they are reading. Often times when they try to go back to feeling the bigger beats they can't and end up counting the main beats twice as fast as they should be. (I wish I could come up with an image or example for what I'm talking about. I realize it's a bit confusing - sorry!)
Because they have a difficult time feeling a constant pulse and because they can't stand making a mistake they stop when they do something wrong. It is very difficult to get them to keep going no matter what.

Determined to help them get over some of these issues I pulled out an exercise that taps into a technique I use all the time when I'm sightreading. The purpose of it is to keep the eyes, brain, and hands moving in steady, rhythmic, synchronized way. Here's what we did while we read piano duets together. With me playing the more complicated bottom part as written I had them play the 5-finger position top part as follows:

First time: playing at a very fast tempo so that 4/4 measures could be felt and counted in 2 rather than in 4, and 2/4 measures could be felt and counted in 1 rather than in 2, they looked for and played only the first notes of every measure while counting out loud. Since we were doing this very quickly they really had to keep their eyes moving. Because they weren't having to worry about rhythms and because I was playing with them, they could maintain the steady pulse and feel what it's like to get in a wonderful groove.
Second time: slowing down the tempo but maintaining the same counting scheme, they continued to read only the notes that fell on downbeats but I asked them to add in whatever their eyes saw around those downbeats.

It took them a few tries to figure out what I meant but once they did I think we were all shocked by the results. On day one of this experiment, after only one attempt each, when they went to do the second play-through where they were focusing on the downbeats but allowing themselves to play what they could, they played virtually all the notes correctly at the first attempt without any problems with rhythms they had previously struggled to execute correctly. And no stopping! To top it off they all played extraordinarily musically, especially considering the fact they aren't pianists. I was literally gobsmacked.

And the cherry on the cake?

I met with one of my students today and led her through our exercise with the same exciting results, only this time when I looked at her it looked like she was going to pop. After saying, "Brava!" I asked her, "How did that feel?" She had this enormous grin on her face and she said something along the lines of, "This was the first time I've ever played music and actually heard another part. I heard your part - I heard mine. It was beautiful!" I asked her if she realized that she had done all the rhythms correctly and she said, "Really? I wasn't thinking about them at all!" Coming from someone to whom rhythm doesn't come naturally, that made my day.

So why did this work so well, at least this time?

Perhaps it worked because it showed them that their eyes and brain can take in quite a bit all at once without having to expend energy on each and every dot on the page. This freed them up enough so that they could include their ears in the process. They could hear the music that was being made and could respond in expressive ways. In regards to the rhythms that they previously hadn't been able to do very easily, I now wonder if they do indeed have a grasp of rhythm but don't realize it themselves. They don't trust that they can see a pattern and automatically be able to reproduce it without counting all the tiny subdivisions that require so much additional brain power.

We'll see what happens from here. I realize it's just a start but wow, at least for this week, I'm thrilled and am eager to figure out what to do next. If anyone has any thoughts or personal stories about this topic, please do share - I always learn a lot from all of you!

If you're interested in more ideas about sightreading music, feel free to check out my page devoted to the topic.

One musician's search for relevance in the working world

2012-10-12T23:11:00.000-04:00

Those NPR stories. They always get to me! A few weeks ago as I was driving to work I fell victim to the oft-repeated "pull to the side of the road until the NPR story is finished" scenario only to find myself propelled into a month long soul-searching expedition which has led me to this particular blog post. That would explain the month-long absence. I'm not quite sure what is to follow but everything that has happened in my mind and heart these past few weeks deserves some sort of mention. So here goes.

It all started before I heard the story on the radio. All the news about orchestra strikes, possible funding cuts for the arts and the talk of artists needing to step into the world of the marketplace, the increase of music school students that don't have any exposure to classical music prior to coming to college, my own daughter declaring her dislike of the genre, our current struggle to support ourselves working solely as freelance musicians - I quickly found myself thinking that what I do for a living doesn't serve much of a purpose to the world as a whole anymore and that it might be better for me to rejoin the "real" world in order to do my part, whatever that might be. The prospect of having a steady, predictable income, of having our benefits taken care of, was turning into a mighty large, juicy, carrot that I was so tempted to grab and run.

Enter the NPR story.

Local poet and professor at Virginia Tech, Nikki Giovanni, along with illustrator Chris Raschka, worked together on a children's book called The Grasshopper's Song back in 2008. It's a retelling of Aesop's fable about the grasshopper that sat back and played music rather than being industrious like the ants who were busily and responsibly preparing for the winter. Nikki Giovanni didn't like Aesop's moral to the story and felt that perhaps there was a different side of the story. In this children's book she set out to tell the grasshopper's point of view and in the process to make an appeal about the value of the arts in society. As Giovanni explains...

"I’m sick of the way the grasshopper is treated as if he had no purpose, as if he were useless, you know, and the ants are using what he’s given because the grasshoppers [are] making music and I’m sick of people acting like the fact you’re an artist, somehow you don’t work, you haven’t done anything. So I said if I had my way the grasshopper would sue the ants because, you know, that’s the American way."

That got my attention.

Next I heard Giovanni quote a bit from the story. In this scene Jimmy Grasshopper has brought a court case against Nestor and Abigail Ant for not giving him the respect he deserves as a musician. After being accused of being a clown and a slacker by the defense the grasshopper takes to the stand. Laurie Wren, the prosecuting attorney, questions him about why he feels he deserves anything from the ants.

"Jimmie sat even taller. 'Am I not worthy of my bread? Does not the work of my heart and soul earn respect? I’m an artist. Is there no place for beauty, no solace for the ear, no hope for the heart? Must everything be in the marketplace? Doesn't the marketplace itself need and deserve beautification?... Without art, life would be a big mistake.'"

I was moved and shocked hearing these words, especially considering where I was at that exact moment. When I got to work I sat down in a bit of a stupor, pulled out the music to Gerald Finzi's "Eclogue," my current almost-as-good-as-chocolate piece of choice, and just played. As predictable as a soap opera, I ended up with tears streaming down my face. I was singing my own grasshopper's song.

In the weeks that followed I went through a lot of processing and re-reading of Giovanni's story. I've even kept my distance from twitter in an effort to quiet my mind long enough to hear my own voice again. For those of you who know my twitter tendencies, that's saying something! After many ups and downs here is what I've concluded for myself about whether or not I should choose the path of the grasshopper or that of the ants:

I could quit music in search of a "real" job in order to be more "productive" in the eyes of many and to gain the benefits that such a job comes with but I'm having a hard time thinking of one that would give me a sense of doing something good and beneficial for society as a whole. Maybe I could get a job at a coffee place but do I really want to be making fatty, sugary, expensive coffee drinks for people? I could work at a retail store but do I really want to be encouraging folks to spend money? Don't get me wrong - there's nothing wrong with those jobs - I just don't think I'd find a lot of purpose in them and for someone like me, who seeks meaning in just about everything I do, I think it would be too great a stretch for me.

Classical music might be a bit of a waning genre but it is something that gives me great joy and always has. I also firmly believe that most people can enjoy or at least tolerate classical music when it's presented in a non-threatening, eclectic, personal way. Just think of all those flash-mobs that have been so popular on the the internet. Very rarely do you see someone glowering when they're in the center of a spirited musical performance like that - when music meets everyday life.

With my teaching and coaching there is much more that I can teach that goes beyond the music. Music teaches about problem solving, planning, leadership, collaboration, cooperation, self expression, determination to follow through and to do one's best, discipline, and the joy and pride that is the culmination of it all.

I may not be able to be successful as a musician when it comes to money but I believe I can be successful in a much more personally fulfilling way - one that can be absorbed by those around me and by my family.

I've waited for a while to write this post so that I could write it when my thoughts had stabilized and I do believe I'm there now. I realize I'm bound to have some ups and downs as I proceed down the musical path on which I currently find myself but until something changes I am determined to pick up my fiddle and to keep on playing and singing Jimmy Grasshopper's song. If I am accused of being clown or an irresponsible member of society, so be it.

At least I'll be happy.

Quick note: If you are interested in purchasing the book but are discouraged by the reviews of the book on Amazon, pay them little heed. It is actually quite interesting to read the comments since they reflect a common attitude we have in this country about the value (or lack of value) of the arts. And is this book a "childrens'" book? Well, as with most books in this genre, I imagine it can be enjoyed by children and adults of all ages but especially by adults. Our daughter, who is now 7, loved it!

The power of a few words of thanks to a piano collaborator

2012-09-16T17:17:00.001-04:00

I'm not going to say much in this post because I don't want to detract from the words I'm about to share.

This afternoon I finished practicing, opened my computer and found an e-mail in my inbox from a young saxophonist I accompany with the subject line, "The Glazunov." I opened up my calendar first, thinking this would be a rehearsal request, returned to my e-mail to start reading and my heart skipped a beat...or two. Here is what I read:

"I just wanted to let you know that I have been listening to the orchestral version of the Glazunouv [saxophone concerto] quite a bit over the last week or so, and I have a renewed appreciation of everything that you do as an accompanist. The sheer number of different parts that you have to cover and the orchestration in them which you emulate is absolutely crazy and a true testament to your musicianship. I am excited to give it another shot the next time that we play together."

I am grateful for the people that I accompany and collaborate with and I am regularly blessed with not only shared music with others but also with words of thanks and appreciation. This e-mail serves as yet another example of why I do what I do and it also gives me an opportunity to let folks in on an important truth - genuine appreciation for what we accompanists and collaborators do means the world to us. Our job is largely about other people so to know that we truly are seen as part of the equation can be a gift that keeps giving from one performance to another.

So go ahead...fill up your collaborator's inbox with some appreciation. It will be a welcome change of pace to all those rehearsal requests that we get.

Finding the perfect audience - it's easier than you think

2012-09-14T20:32:00.000-04:00

The perfect audience.

I'm not talking marketing. I'm not talking programming. And I'm not talking about anything that has to do with money or "making it."

I'm talking about the perfect audience in a very personal sense. It's a key, I think, to opening many doors for musicians of all ages and stages. Whether it's the nine-year old who's about to walk onstage to play for a handful of judges, the symphony member who is about to join 100 other colleagues in the concert hall, or the recording artist that is about to spend hours in the recording studio hoping for the perfect take - each of these musicians desires to do his or her best. But for whose sake? For whom are we playing? Are we trying to speak to and please each individual in the audience? If we are, isn't that asking a lot of ourselves?

A few months ago a friend posted a YouTube video on my Facebook page that answered this question for me in a powerful way. In the video a tuba player that played with the Dukes of Dixieland band, Richard Matteson, talks about a recording session he was involved in with Louis Armstrong. In the course of the session the band witnessed Louis performing for two very different but important audiences all within the confines of the recording studio's walls. And those very well-defined audience members, his wife and God, made the performances what they were - personal musical gifts that were were given with unconditional love coming from both directions. Here is the video so you can hear the story for yourself:

"I always play for somebody I love. That's all. You play for somebody you love, all the time. They wanna listen, that's cool. If they don't want to listen, it's still cool cuz I was gonna play for Him and her anyway."

Does this type of approach to performing exclude anyone else that might be sitting in the audience? Personally I don't think so. In my experience it's performances like this that hand the music and the musician's own self over to the audience in one powerful package that has the ability to move, embrace, and thrill whoever is open to receiving.

Perhaps this reveals something not-so-positive about me, but my personal audience is myself, all the time - not the perfectionist self or the practice room self, but the me that fell in love with music when I was a little girl. Performing is a gift for myself that I like to share with anyone else who cares to listen. If they like the gift too, that's cool. If they don't, that's still cool.

You'll still find me smiling and walking onto the stage again...and again...and again.

To practice or not to practice on the day of a not-so-ideal performance?

2012-08-31T12:28:00.000-04:00

Here's the situation I faced when I woke up this morning:

I have a performance this evening, a recital of trio music for piano, oboe, and horn
I received the music one month ago
I have never heard, seen, or played either of these pieces prior to receiving it

Last night we had a dress rehearsal that was disguised as a performance at a local retirement community. For the most part it went quite well and I enjoyed myself immensely, but as is often the case with music that is really new in my fingers, ears, and heart, there were many times when I found that little annoying voice in my head saying, "Um, have we done this before?" and other times where it simply screamed, "Eeeeeeeeck!" That little voice doesn't discriminate between difficult passages and what should be easy ones so by the end of the performance I was glowing but also exhausted and a little bewildered as to how to approach the next 24 hours. Normally on performance day I try to stay away from the music to be performed because I've found that it can more often than not, freak me out. If I bomb a passage while warming up guess what's going through my head the moment I walk out on stage to perform the same piece. Right. An instant replay of the whole incident. And guess how relaxed I am as I get closer and closer to the passage in question? Yep. Not very relaxed. So with pieces I've performed quite a bit already or that I have worked on for months and months I tend to play completely unrelated music that I love to play to get me connected to my instrument and to the joy of playing music. Unfortunately these days, as a collaborative pianist who is constantly learning new music and being asked to perform when it is not at the level of comfort I'd like, this tactic of not playing the piece at all doesn't work so well and doesn't tend to lead to having a calm spirit when I walk on stage. So what to do?

When music feels uncomfortably new to me, my new tactic that I've been trying recently and that I did this morning was that I play through the least comfortable movements and passages at a tempo that allowed my body and mind to remain consistently relaxed. Here's what I'm looking for when I'm doing this:

A connection with what it feels like to be playing this music in a relaxed state
Time to audiate and truly hear everything I'm playing as it is happening which also enables me to play slowly while preserving and even exploring musicality
Time to predict and audiate what's coming up next which helps even more with musicality
Time to breathe regularly, especially during the challenging passages where I tend to hold my breath
A freedom in movement, especially in my arms and hands, where I'm tempted to tense up in anticipation of a difficult sequence of notes
Time to also hear the other players' parts in my head so that they don't catch me off-guard in performances
A chance to fall in love with the music I'm playing

In the past when I've slow practiced with these things in mind, it reminds me of the music in a non-threatening way and it allows me to build a positive connection with the music that I can carry with me when I walk onto the stage. It's still a relatively new tactic of mine so I suppose we'll see how it works for me this evening.

I would cross my fingers but that might make it a little tricky to play. Plus too much tension involved.

Update post-performance: The performance went really well and I felt my body reconnect with the ease I felt in my practice session while I was playing slowly. My ears were also much more engaged after hearing everything at a slower tempo earlier. Conclusion? It worked this time! I'll keep testing the method. And if anyone else tries it, do let me know how it works for you.

Making practicing public, live, and personal

2012-08-29T13:33:00.003-04:00

Here comes another crazy idea of mine and thankfully I don't have just myself to blame for this one. It started a while ago after I had tweeted quite a bit during a practice session of mine. One of my friends on twitter tweeted to me, "I wish I could hear you practicing over twitter."

My initial reaction was, "Ewwwww...I don't think you really want to know what's going on when I'm practicing." But especially since I've started my own practice coaching business, I have put some more thought into my friend's statement and began thinking that livestreaming my practice sessions just might be the thing to do. It would be a great way to hold me accountable for practicing what I preach, would give me more motivation to set aside time to practice every day, and if people actually chose to watch it, it could give them some insight into how I work, think, and deal with life as a busy musician. It would show that even professionals have problems, that we make mistakes, and have bad practice days - in other words, that we too are human. If nothing else, on good days it could provide folks with some decent background music.

So here we are. Thanks to the joys of the internet and technology, I am now able to jump off the cliff and let you all into my little strange, obsessive little practice world. Right now I happen to have a lot of time to practice so I'm practicing several hours a day. In a few weeks, once school gets going and rehearsals start up I'm not sure how it's going to work. My plan, however, is to post a schedule for the day each morning on my Beyond the Notes Facebook page. You can also come here to my blog and look at the sidebar on the right-hand side of the screen. I have my ustream channel embedded there and it should automatically show when I'm livestreaming.

If you miss my practice sessions, which is very likely since everyone is so productive and busy, you can always watch the archived videos that are also stored on my channel. I'll keep a week's worth there at any given time.

This is all very new so I welcome feedback on how I can make this work better so that it will be more interesting and informative. And if you have specific questions about what or how I'm practicing shoot me an e-mail at practicecoaching@yahoo.com. This is now my third day of streaming and I was encouraged yesterday when another friend on twitter, a pianist, responded to my livestreaming yesterday by saying, "Could only tune in for a few minutes. Long enough to send me to the piano."

I'm not sure if she was already headed to the piano, but if it was watching me practice that drove her to practice, this crazy experiment is well worth it!

So go pop some popcorn, pull up a seat, and join me...Beyond the Notes...live!

Inspired by an inspiring award!

2012-08-22T11:04:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I received the most surprising and humbling comment on my blog by a wonderful pianist, teacher, and social media friend, LaDona. In it she informed me that she had nominated me for a "Very Inspiring Blogger Award" which, according to the badge that accompanies the nomination, has been created to keep "the blogosphere a beautiful place." I think it's pretty obvious by now that I have fallen in love with blogs, not only writing them, but also reading them. I am constantly inspired by a stream of incredible ideas and creativity that I see in these online journals that no longer just pepper the internet, but seem to fuel it. To hear from a reader and colleague that this blog inspires her is such an encouragement to me. So many, many thanks, LaDona. It is an honor to be listed among those that you also nominated. (To see a list of the excellent blogs she mentions, click here.) So now to "accept" my award I'm asked to do several things:

Thank and link back to the person who nominated me
Post the award image to your page
Tell seven random facts about myself
Nominate 10 other blogs
Let them know they are nominated

Let's start with the random facts...hmmm...

I love knitting and cross-stitching even though I rarely have time to do it anymore.
I took sewing class in school. And no, I'm not that old. I just went to a bit of an old-fashioned girls' school. I was the last person to take that class and I'm proud of it.
I had to go to dancing school in middle school donning white gloves and patent leather shoes. It was one of the most horrifying experiences of my life.
The cellist, Yo-Yo Ma, picked me up off the stage of Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco and asked me to sit next to him in the audience during an open masterclass. I will never forget that moment though I have showered since then. I wasn't so sure I was going to.
We have a pet lovebird named Pistachio.
I can play a flamenco piece on the guitar...sort of.
I love poems, both reading and writing them. My favorite poets? Rainer Maria Rilke and Eavan Boland.

And now to nominate some fabulous bloggers that inspire me on a regular basis:

Alexis Del Palazzo's "The Sensible Flutist" - Alexis shares many of my same philosophies about music-making, holistic playing, and the importance of building community wherever you are
Astrid Baumgardner - Ms. Baumgardner is always a wonderful source of inspiration about life for creative souls
Jazz pianist Ron Davis - Ron is on a bit of a blogging hiatus right now but when he writes, he writes beautifully with lots of wonderful things to say about music and literature. He also happens to like Rainer Maria Rilke's writing.
Music educator and psychologist Robert Woody's, "Being musical. Being human." - Dr. Woody writes all the time about inspiration he receives through his teaching and research and is a good place to go to read about recent studies in the music psychology world.
Cellist Emily Wright's "The Stark Raving Cello" blog - Emily doesn't actually seem to be raving very much of the time but instead provides honest, thoughtful posts about life both musical and otherwise. She is also incredible at coming up with amusing stick-figure drawings that say just as much as a blog post can.
Pianist and educator Michael Monroe's "MMmusing" blog - where wit and music come together into posts that usually leave me giggling. He is amazing at putting together word puzzles, images with funny captions, classical music mash-ups, and videos. Truly a place to be entertained while learning something.
Clarinetist Marion Harrington - Marion is someone that has inspired me from day one of knowing her. Living in Spain, she gave up a successful career in business to return to music and is sharing her journey one step at a time, the highs and the lows but always with a sense of humor and determination to live above it all.
Guitarist Patrick Smith's "A Journeyman's Way Home" - Patrick blogs just about every day and to me they are like little meditations that shine a light into my own life. He is truly a poetic soul.
Music psychologist and coach Noa Kageyama's "The Bulletproof Musician" - Dr. Kageyama writes inspiring, practical posts to help any musician in the practice room and on the stage.
Pianist and teacher Catherine Shefski's "Go Play Project" - Cathy started a fascinating project at the beginning of the year to learn, record, and post on this blog a new piece every week during the 2012 year. It's a source of inspiration to me every week and has put a bug in my mind that I want to do this too...someday.

The thing I don't like about making any sort of list is knowing that I will probably leave something or someone out. If you know I regularly read your blog but have not listed you here, please don't think anything of it and forgive me instead!

Thank you again, LaDona, for giving me a chance to sit down and to think of all the wonderful people I have in my life via the internet. It has been an honor.

Long live the inspiring blogosphere!

The thing about classical music...from the mouth of my babe

2012-08-19T21:44:00.002-04:00

You remember that show way back when that was hosted by Bill Cosby called, "Kids Say the Darndest Things?" Well, in the past few months my seven-year old daughter and I have been living in our very own episode in which the central theme is classical music.

It started a few months ago in the car when I asked my daughter if she wanted me to turn on some music. She replied in the affirmative so I slipped in a CD of Rachmaninoff piano concertos - a little light listening. The minute it came on I saw the oh-so-familiar eye-roll and heard its faithful side-kick, the sigh. Looking back at her I said, "What? Did you want to hear something else?" Not wanting to ruffle feathers she didn't say much but by this point I was determined to figure out what was up with this disdain so I persisted in my questioning. "What don't you like about this? It's so incredible! Just listen." I proceeded to describe to her what I heard in the music, coming up with some sort of fantastical tale that involved fairies and mermaids (a necessity in a 7-year old girl's stories) and looked back to see her reaction. Nothing. No sign of interest, only another one of those sighs.

A few weekends ago we found ourselves in a similar scenario. On the way to church on a Sunday morning I again decided to listen to some music in the car - classical, of course and this time a recording of one of my own recitals. The minute the music started (Rachmaninoff again), she said, "Mommy, why do you like this classical stuff so much?" I gave her my answer and ended by asking her again, "What don't you like about it?" Her response turned on a humongous lightbulb that's been burned out for my entire life. She said, "Mommy, the thing about classical music is that, well, it just makes me feel stuff I don't want to feel all the time. It's just too much, especially this early in the morning."

I've heard this before. Many times before. Her words instantly transported me back to when I worked in a resort in Switzerland for several months. I played piano in a restaurant and accompanied four singers that had also traveled there from San Francisco. On my first night at work, the maitre d' of the restaurant, an intimidating, serious fellow, came up to me and said, "We've received a complaint from a customer - they want no more of this sad music. They want happy music." Prior to this experience I had very little experience playing anything other than classical music and in my mind, classical music was happy. But I realized after a bit of reflecting that it was happy to me because I grew up with it, I liked it, and I connected with it. Listening to the music from an outsider's perspective, it occurred to me that it could be perceived as something quite the opposite of heart-warming and perhaps overly emotional instead. They craved Strauss waltzes, Scott Joplin rags, Sousa marches, jazz standards, anything peppy and upbeat that got their foot tapping. They wanted music that took them out of their emotions and away from the drama of their lives into a simpler, happier place.

For me, that happier place involves drama and an intense connection with the range of emotions that I can feel but for others, like my daughter, it can simply be too much. As I find myself performing more and more for people that didn't grow up steeped in classical music, I'm realizing that making sure there's plenty of lighter emotional fare on my musical menu tends to produce more comfortable, satisfied audiences. Does that mean I leave out some of the meat and potatoes of the classical repertoire when I perform? Nope, I don't do that because that would mean keeping a large part of myself hidden. But I also make sure that I include some pieces that are easier on the emotions and less likely to elicit one of my daughter's sighs.

Ah, those sighs...I could use less of them since I know we'll get plenty in the years to come. Perhaps I'll avoid Rachmaninoff the next time we're in the car together. His music can be a little "too much," especially early in the morning.

Mired in Migraines

2012-08-14T20:57:00.001-04:00

This is the first time I've bothered to mention this on my blog but since I've had a day that was made null and void by a severe migraine, I decided I want to end it with something productive. So here's my attempt, written with all the lights turned off, drugs taken, brightness turned down on my computer screen, fan blowing on me gently, and the room quiet and waiting for something.

Migraines are mysterious.

Migraines are merciless.

But often times they are seen as just as "big headaches." Take some aspirin, get some rest, you'll be fine.

Unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

Migraines don't usually go away overnight. I have gone through two weeks at a time with a constant migraine, of varying intensity, but there nonetheless. And I know of folks that have had migraines last for even longer than that. So just taking some aspirin and getting some rest doesn't really work - at least not for some of us. Because they aren't "just headaches."

Migraines can be debilitating. Sometimes I can continue to function with one but on a bad day, like today, I am forced to do nothing. And I mean nothing. Reading hurts, looking at the computer screen hurts, listening to music hurts, practicing piano definitely hurts...yup, see how bad it gets? If something keeps me from my piano that says something. I can perform if need be, albeit in a bit of a drugged-up state, thanks to all the endorphins that come with walking on stage but afterwards? Oh boy. You don't want to see me after a performance under the influence. Not pretty.

Migraines make me want to cry...or worse. But because they are so painful and debilitating any thoughts of doing either are quickly realized as impossibilities. Imagine that.

Migraines make me feel pathetic. Here I am, a wife and a mother, and I am made worthless to my family. I remember several times when my daughter was much younger and not yet in school when she had to nurse me through the day. It might have been somewhat fun for her - a chance to truly play nurse, but it wasn't so fun for me nor did I feel it was really right. I am thankful that I have a family that is so understanding and helpful but I wish it didn't have to be this way so much of the time.

Migraines are difficult to figure out. I've tried so many different medications, many of which have had way too many side-effects to be bearable; I've driven long distances to go to special clinics; I've kept charts trying to make some sense of all the possible factors; I've had many different doctors that have completely different philosophies; I've tried to figure out the triggers; I've tried different things in regard to my diet; I've checked the barometric pressure on a regular basis...it's been a lot of work but yielded very few consistent theories. Out of it all I have learned just a few things which I'll share now, for what it's worth.

It's challenging to find a good doctor who can really help with migraines. I finally ended up with a neurologist that has migraines herself and this has meant the world to me. With her I feel comfortable because I know she gets it. She listens to me, has figured out that my body is not very good with medicine, and has taken more of a "let's just get you through this approach." We tried some of the preventative options but they were not well-received by my extremely sensitive system. Instead, she has put me on a daily regimen of supplements and has found for me several different options that I can use once a migraine sets in. There are good doctors out there and they take some work to find but it's worth it.

It seems like MRIs are not necessary unless a neurologist does a basic set of tests (that doesn't require machines, radiation, or big bills) and he or she sees a need to proceed with the big guns. I had two neurologists, after seeing me once, order MRIs after only speaking to me for about 10 minutes each. It was such a knee-jerk solution for them. Migraine = MRI but seriously? Do you know how much those tests are? Plus talk about migraine inducing!

Rebound migraines can be more debilitating than your average migraines but they can happen so incredibly easily. I had no idea that the medicine that works best for me, Maxalt, is only supposed to be taken every couple of days. For whatever reason, none of my doctors or pharmacists ever told me this little detail. So for little old me, that was having migraines for days on end, for weeks on end, taking Maxalt every day was causing massive rebound migraines! Of course I was also running out medicine on a regular basis, being forced a few times to pay $75 per pill when I was desperate and had run out of what our insurance would pay for. Somehow I stumbled upon information about rebound migraines online so I asked my neurologist about it and she confirmed what I had figured out. I immediately started keeping track of when I took Maxalt, allowing for 2 to 3 days in between doses, and instantly reduced my attacks and their severity. For a long time I also didn't know that I could take advil at the same time I take Maxalt. And on top of that I can also take an anti-nausea medication I take. It pays to ask the pharmacist or your doctor! Perhaps I'm the only person that didn't know these things but I want to go on the record for passing on these important bits of info.

I have discovered a website, migraine.com, that has a wealth of information daily. They also have a twitter account at @migrainedotcom.

I wish I had more helpful information to offer but like I said at the beginning of this post - migraines are mysterious. I certainly hope that more research will be done in the years to come so that this those of us who deal with them on a regular basis will find more relief. Until then, if you're someone suffering from migraines, go easy on yourself - it's not easy to live with these things. And for those of you that know someone with migraines, thank you for supporting them and believing them. It means the world to us and makes living with them so much more tolerable.

Now my head is really hurting so it's time to sign off. Here's to a new and better day tomorrow. Stay healthy, everyone!

Musical Investigations: Episode 4 - Muczynski's "Time Pieces"

2012-08-09T21:20:00.001-04:00

In this musical investigation I look at just two measures from Muczynski's first movement of his "Time Pieces," for clarinet and piano. I knew right off the bat that I would be spending quite a bit of time with these 31 notes and it's proving to be true. But I'm getting there.

Here's the passage in question:

I've learned a few things about Mr. Muczynski. I've learned that his name is fun to say, that his music is always very rhythmically exciting, and the thing that begins our current investigation, that he must have loved octatonic scales which are scales that alternate between whole steps and half steps.

I love octatonic scales - truly. But not this particular use of them. Why? Because Mr. Muczynski decided to not have the hands playing the same intervals at the same time - when the right hand is playing a half step the left hand is playing a whole step. And when the right hand is playing a whole step, the left hand is playing a half step. Oh ugh. That is not nice! But it does provide a wonderful mental challenge which I gladly accept.

So how to proceed?

Find a good fingering and mark it in. I knew that I wanted to reduce the number times I needed to shift my hands in order to keep things more simple and to avoid finger-tangling episodes. I also found a way to finger them so that I would be using my thumbs in both hands at the same time as much as possible. This gives me a sense of security and helps my brain to regroup whenever I land on those thumbs. I made sure to mark in all the fingerings so that in the beginning stages I would be repeating the exact same fingering. Not all people like doing this and would rather keep the music more clean but I prefer this method. I figure I can always erase some of the more obvious ones as soon as the passage is well-learned and memorized.
Mark in the material that immediately follows the scales. Of course this passage falls right on a page-turn which is an invitation for a weak moment so I took a second to write in the notes that fall on the downbeat of the next measure so that I could work that in from the beginning of learning this passage.
Learn each hand separately so that I can play it in my sleep. This didn't take terribly long because like I said before, I love octatonic scales and am pretty familiar with them. But I always like to give myself a moment of success before I tackle something challenging, in this case putting the hands together.
Slowly put the hands together. I have to admit this was slow going and I do believe my brain started to physically hurt. Realizing that this might not work very well on its own I moved on to...
Come up with a strategy to help my brain have something to grab onto. After struggling to come up with something I finally realized that if I locked onto the right hand and onto which interval I was playing at a given moment I could pretty easily tell my left hand to simply do the other interval. Seems crazy, perhaps, and keep in mind I had to do this super slow, but pretty quickly my brain and my hands started to latch onto the technique. It allowed me to focus my eyes on only one line of notes which left some room in my brain to process the I should be doing in the other hand. Quieting my eyes almost always quiets my brain.

After these steps I was well on my way but I still had to build up speed, comfort, and accuracy. That leads to today's practice section which I videotaped. Using many of the practice techniques that I use in fast passages, here is what I did in about 6 minutes of practicing:

rhythms (I don't like to do dotted rhythms, personally - I chose these because there are always two notes in the pattern on which I can really sit on and affirm that I know what I'm doing.)
add-a-note, starting first with the individual measures and then linking them all together
backwards - this is a relatively new technique for me. I like the challenge in it and I do think it helps, for whatever reason.
hands crossed - in this exercise I play the left hand up an octave so that it's higher than the right hand. It's a great way to really hear that left hand that so easily can hide behind the right in terms of security, clarity, and sound.

So there you have it! Musical mystery solved. Hopefully a few days of practicing these two measures 6 minutes will work.