Gleanings From a Winter Recital... and Learning from the Students

Recital at Apollo Music & Arts (Chico, CA)

I held my second piano recital on December 6th, with the same experiences I had when I organized my first recital back in March of 2019: ongoing excitement and, quite honestly, giddiness. I find myself living vicariously through these students, and as a result I get the same feelings of accomplishment and euphoria that some of them do after they've walked on stage and performed for over 50 people. A huge advantage of having put together two recitals now is that the upcoming ones will probably be organized even more efficiently, since I have a richer understanding of what to expect, how early to start the process, and how to avoid any pitfalls (and there really aren't that many).

The beginner students played between two and three short songs each, and towards the end the advanced students played individual pieces that were between three and six minutes long. I was thrilled to hear how well they played, especially since some of the pieces were rather difficult to master (Chopin's E-flat major Nocturne and Rachmaninoff's C-sharp minor Prelude, to name a couple). Many people from the audience seemed amazed at some of the students' skills, and as a bonus everyone spent a good half hour mingling, chatting and posing for group pictures after the show.

I was also impressed by how nicely the venue was set up. Apollo Music and Arts is used primarily as a place to sell pianos (as well as teaching piano lessons) and I was able to rent that floor space for an evening. There was something very comfortable and intimate about having the recital there, and there's a good chance I'll use that venue again in the future.

I'm not sure if there's a short way to summarize the success of the show, but one thing is certain: the students are showing how far they can push their limits, and how far they can reach for their potential. That being said, I learned a host of other eye-opening concepts which, incidentally, came into light after spending several months teaching one of my adults students...


If you can play at Grade x, then you can work up to Grade x+1

I hope people will pardon the math-like expression above, but I wanted to make a point about the importance of realizing an individual's potential. All too often I hear people make comments like this: "I could never play like that", or "I'm just not cut out for music". I've also noticed that people who make these comments are often the same people who have never taken a lesson in their lives. And my immediate reaction is usually, "How do you know?" or, simply, "I seriously doubt it," meaning that I sincerely believe that most people do have the potential to play an instrument extremely well. But it doesn't happen magically, and to play difficult piece (like Rachmaninoff's prelude that was performed at the recital) one needs to spend years, yes years, training on a daily basis, practicing, putting in the hard work and effort, and persevering when it gets frustrating and/or really challenging, which it sometimes does.

I have argued for it before and I'll argue for it again: the success of playing an instrument skillfully stems from hard work and effort, not from some accident at birth that makes you "gifted". The myth that you "either have it or you don't" is one that I hear repeatedly and will continue trying to dispel. There actually isn't any such thing as a "music gene", although there are some genes that might make you a slightly better musician (e.g., your genes determine whether you have slender fingers, which may make you a tiny bit more apt to play a violin more skillfully). But this is a miniscule factor in determining whether you'll be a good musician. After all, there are plenty of good violinists (including famous ones) that have really fat fingers.

As far as the math expression goes, it comes from a system used by the ABRSM (Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music) where they categorize piano pieces into different "grades" of difficulty. "Grade 1" is assigned to songs that are the easiest to play, whereas "Grade 8" is reserved for those that are among the hardest. There are also pieces that fall in categories beyond Grade 8, termed "Associate" and "Licentiate" levels. The Licentiate level is considered the highest difficulty, and if you can play at this level you're basically a virtuoso, with an ability to play some of the world's most challenging pieces. The beauty of understanding this system is the realization that, given enough time and hard work, almost anyone could, eventually, advance to at least a Grade 8. Again, the ability to play at this level is not reserved for those who are just "gifted". Instead, it is attained by mastering Grades 1 through 7, one at a time, by putting in the hours, training, and receiving proper instruction from a good teacher.

Having said this, I should reiterate that mastering any musical instrument is never easy. It's meant to be challenging, which is also why it can be fun, inspiring and rewarding when it comes to achieving certain milestones. The formula describes the process beautifully because it's incremental; students will remain at "Grade x" if they don't practice. In order to advance from there, they need to acquire certain skills, (which they could learn in a matter of months, or sometimes over a year). The development of these new skills will result in Grade x+1, which  means, for example, that a student can move from a Grade 4 to a Grade 5. Repeat this process a few times and it's only a matter of time and effort before a student finally gets to a Grade 8, or even higher.

People tend to think that musicians playing at a Grade 8 level are somehow "magical" with their abilities, that they are endowed with some mystical gift that allows them to have this ability. Yes, some students learn faster than others, and some are more motivated (and therefore practice more) but, at the end of the day, it really amounts to how much you practice on a daily basis. It also helps to have a decent teacher to make sure you're being steered in the right direction.

There are, of course, a few exceptions, but they are rare. You could consider students with learning disabilities, for example, who might not grasp the concepts as quickly when learning an instrument. But I hardly ever see this. I've had students with ADD (as well as ADHD, or maybe both), although getting them to play the piano successfully seems more a matter of just getting them to sit still and focus, rather than it being any issue with physical coordination. I've had a couple of students with Asperger's syndrome as well, but it seem that in both of these cases it only sharpened their ability.


Revamping the Curriculum

I decided to pay more attention to this difficulty-rating system after talking to one of my adult students, and as a result I spent one of my weekends redesigning the curriculum I use in my instruction. I don't know if I should be embarrassed to admit it, but this was one of the most fun projects I've ever tackled. I think a part of it is that it gives me an excuse to learn a whole bunch of new pieces, since I have to teach a fair amount of songs from each grade.

I guess that means I'll have to practice the piano even more now. Darn. ;)