I'm back. Back from where, you wonder? From a month of performance preparation. About five weeks ago I was asked by Stephanie Smith, one of the piano teachers at SLCC, if I was interested in an accompanying job. I said that I was. At the same moment I found out that one of our piano teachers had resigned before this semester had started. I didn't find out any of the details of her resignation, but I did find out that another piano teacher was hired and given all of her students. I wondered why the two piano teachers at SLCC couldn't have been given her students to first ascertain whether or not another piano teacher was needed, especially considering the limited number I have carried during this semester, a total of three. Okay, well, if they didn't think I was the caliber of piano teacher that could take on her students, then maybe I needed to show them, maybe I should make my accompanying skills known. After all, no one of importance had ever heard me play.
A few days later, I was contacted by Robert J. Bedont, a SLCC adjunct faculty member, DMA, specializing in bassoon and saxophone. He wanted to know if I could accompany for his friend and colleague from Texas. He would be performing on November 14. I would have four weeks to prepare. He emailed the music to me, four pieces, so that I could look them over. So, I played through the music from my laptop; it was challenging. I then prayed about whether I should agree to do this, and the thought came to me, "you know you can do this." I'm glad someone knew this because I wasn't sure, but it did buoy me up. And where would I find the time? The next Monday I printed all the music, and a few days later Martin VanKlompenberg, the performer, emailed me a fifth piece. So, began practice.
I started with the four short Vaughn-Williams' pieces, sightread them, and determined that I could probably play through three of the pieces twice a week and could call them good. The fourth piece would need daily practice at slow, medium, and final speeds and constant reinforcement of the fingerings. Then, there was the problem with the left hand trill that I couldn't seem to execute. My left hand has had issues with coordination ever since the episode of 2005. Which fingers could move fast enough to play the trill? I tried different fingers every week, and I finally settled on 2-3 and 2-4, depending on which day it was.
The Bozza piece - I picked out several trouble spots during the sightread. There were three sections to this piece that each had practice issues. Everyday I spot drilled, and when I finally learned the speed of each section, this piece became tamed. All I had to do was continue spot drills and practice it at slow, medium, and final speeds so that I knew it perfectly. In other words, I had to know it so well that I could miss notes and keep going without skipping a beat. After two weeks, I had two pieces down and three more to go.
The piece by Larsson scared me. I had sightread it, fingered it, and was becoming more familiar with it. I listened to a recording of it (which is actually an orchestral piece) and the speed freaked me out. I wondered if I should find someone else to take it on, since I had so many others to work on. There is a section right off the bat that is repeated two other times later in the piece that I couldn't get. On the third week, I finally tackled that section slowly about 50 times - I'm serious - and I got it, never had troubles with it again. And that's the secret: slow loud repetition with absolutely flawless fingerings, notes, and attacks so that clear and accurate paths are constructed in the brain. This piece had many sections that needed spot drills. So, everyday I would do the spots. The middle section with a metronomic speed of 138 to the half note alluded me, however. The speed was disconcerting, so I put this piece aside for a few days only because I had two other pieces that were just as difficult. Coming back to it, I was able to get it performance-ready by repetition and slow practice. As I did this, the speed became a non-issue. I was just needing familiarity.
The White Rock Sonata looked easy (because of how it was printed), but it ended up being a difficulty. There were the usual three movements to this sonata. I worked out the fingerings and found the spots for drill. Unfortunately, I did this while I was sitting in a rocking chair watching TV because my back had had enough of sitting on the piano bench, and some of the fingerings didn't work well, so bad idea not using a piano. I took the music to Sorenson and even practiced while I was on calls. Now, tell me that isn't the most extreme multi-tasking you've ever heard of. The first few days I started doing this I couldn't play but one hand at a time in my head. Eventually though, I was able to practice both hands together. Sounds odd, but it helped to solidify fingerings and gestures, and as I studied the music, I found patterns that I didn't see while at the piano.
I loved the second movement because it was slower and pretty. At the speed indicated, I missed notes, but rehearsing with the bassoonist the day before the recital, I was pleased that he took it slower so I was able to enjoy the beauty of the piece. The first movement had two solo phrases that were difficult. I could play them, but if under duress to perform, I would miss them. There were also several sections of triplets in the right hand against simultaneous syncopated eighth notes in the left hand. The bassoonist actually complained about having to play triplets and consecutive eighth notes. Don't get me wrong, he had mastered his instrument. It's just that pianists have always performed cartwheels around every other instrument. I was a little frantic about this section but finally realized that if I let each hand play their particular rhythm without thinking too much about where to put each note, it would all fall in place - and it worked. I had a hard time getting the third movement to come together, perhaps because it was always practiced last. Finally, I spent a few days slowly and repeatedly practicing it, and it finally came together. I had difficulty with some of the black key arpeggios that I couldn't grab, and like a performer on the balance beam, sometimes my balance wasn't sure.
The Villa-Lobos was going to be the most difficult. I started it later; it looked daunting. Early on, the spirit told me to "leave out notes." All of these pieces were orchestra reductions (every part of the orchestra is put in the score and written as a piano arrangement), and they are often impossible. So, I left out what I couldn't play in the sightread (difficult to do because I am somewhat of a perfectionist, which tends to tamper with my ability to play with speed). This piece had four sections to it, and each had unique difficulties. With continued practice, I focused on the difficult spots, and leaving out notes happened in shifts. The spots again required a lot of slow repetitive drill, gradual acceleration of the speed, as well as head drills at work. In the final analysis, I loved this piece, and it ended up being easier than the Lussier and the Larsson.
I would have liked to have had a month more to feel completely
confident about the music (every "spare" moment was used as well as 14 hours that I took off-work), but in the final analysis, I knew it. I practiced with the bassoonist twice before the recital - Thursday and Friday. We rehearsed each piece two or three times, not enough times to really get a feel for the soloist's reactions, inflections, and speed changes considering the difficulty of the music. One thing I was remiss about was that I should have spent more time listening to recordings of the music to become more familiar with the soloist's part.
I was nervous about the performance; I had never accompanied for an entire recital, and I hadn't performed anything difficult for years. My performance was less than perfect, as performances tend to be; thus, confirming the need for a month more of practice. It turned out that no one but Dr. Bedont's family came to the performance - advertising failure. But I was relieved. Yes, I had gone to a lot of work and had earned $200 for my time and effort, but my nerves were not up to the task after so many years of being away from such performances. My memory is failing, requiring even more repetitions to make the learning stick, and my technical abilities have waned, but I loved practicing, and I loved learning the music. Perhaps more performances will be in my future so that I can get back into the swing.
In his book Outliers, author Malcolm Gladwell says it takes roughly 10,000 hours of practice to achieve mastery in a field. This theory is brought up in a fascinating essay by Simon Gallagher analyzing how many days Phil Connors (Bill Murray) spent in his time loop in the film Groundhog Day.
The total comes to 33 years and 350 days! The essay’s conclusions can be
inspiring to know that learning new skill sets or even transforming a
negative mindset into a positive one is achievable. Just remember that
it takes time, perseverance AND repetition.
